Love’s labours lost

>> Gordon McCall gives Romeo and Juliet cell phones and iPods, problems ensue

by Amy Barratt

If Shakespeare were writing Romeo and Juliet today, the 13-year-old heroine’s goodnight to her lover would go something like this: “Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall text message you ere tomorrow.” Gordon McCall’s updating of the classic story has cell phones, iPods and video projections.

R&J is one of, if not the most produced of the Bard’s plays. It has been filmed literally dozens of times, including the modern-day Quebecois version that’s still in theatres. The last local theatre company to tackle the material was Gravy Bath, in last summer’s Gayanashagowa.

Where Gravy Bath’s native/non-native take on the story got rid of nearly all of Shakespeare’s language in the interest of accessibility, McCall’s version keeps almost all of it in, with the result that, by the time things reach their climax in the Capulet tomb, more than three hours have elapsed and sleepy audience members can only envy the star-crossed lovers’ chance to stretch out and close their eyes.

In the program, McCall is coy about his concept. Is this a Muslim Juliet and a Christian Romeo? The production occasionally hints that that is the case, but doesn’t carry through. A reference in the director’s notes to war-torn Kosovo and catchwords like “violent extremism” suggest that he wants to say something about current world politics, but he never does.

As is so often the case, this updating of Shakespeare causes more problems than it solves. Central to the plot is a written message sent by Friar Laurence to an exiled Romeo. In a production where everyone carries a cell phone, why would anyone entrust life-and-death information to the post?

Like Gayanashagowa, this production has to figure out how to do swordfights in a setting where people don’t carry swords. Gravy Bath gave the actors sharpened blocks of wood, a most unlikely weapon; McCall’s R&J gives them crowbars, implements which could undoubtedly do some damage if applied to the back of the skull, but which the actors proceed to use exactly as if they were swords. Details like this make the characters alien in their own time and, despite the contemporary soundtrack, in ours as well. Costume-wise, they have gone for basic black uniforms dressed up with white jackets, shoes and accessories. The only colour that appears is red and only the two leads get to wear it. The clothes are nicely made, but this “colour-coding” has been done to death and, at this point, insults our intelligence. Also, why does one character complain of summer heat and another appear in a fur-lined coat?

As for all those local actors, most are wasted here in roles with little or no dialogue. Among those with a great deal to say, Yan England is a merely serviceable Romeo. Michel Perron refrains from acting the village idiot as Friar Laurence, and there is no suggestion that he is growing weed under those ultraviolet lights in his “cell.” Too bad: being slightly stoned could have explained some of this character’s problematic behaviour.

Brett Watson as Mercutio brings the early scenes to vivid life and, against the odds, makes us feel for him as he bleeds invisibly from a crowbar-inflicted wound. But the reason to see this show is Anthousa Harris as Juliet. This recent Concordia Theatre grad is physically plausible as the young teen, and manages to play her sweet without being saccharine or silly. She is a likeable, utterly believable Juliet.

ROMEO AND JULIET RUNS THROUGH
APRIL 1 AT THE CENTAUR THEATRE
(453 ST-FRANÇOIS-XAVIER),
$20–$42, (514) 288-3161