The Stage

Romeo and Juliet

Published Monday 22 June 2009 at 11:25 by Ian Barge

This Ludlow Festival 50th anniversary production takes anything but a reverential, bardolatrous approach to Romeo and Juliet.

Costume and setting evoke a feral, primitive world on the edge of anarchic collapse, reminiscent more of Mad Max than of quattrocento Verona. A steel spiral staircase dominates the stark, austere set - the music throughout is menacingly percussive, stripped of any lyricism or sense of ritual order. The Capulet ball, for instance, is more of an All Blacks haka than a dance of harmony. This reflects a dark and brutally reductive reading of the play - twinned helplessness in the huge tug of procreation, largely at the expense of courtly ceremony and poetic delicacy, both of which are integral to the play.

There are, admittedly, some gains. It is a production of testosterone-fuelled energy and athleticism. The street brawls and death duels are sharply choreographed. However, the pace is relentlessly frenetic, vocally and physically in a play that needs its contrasts of moods.

The cast seems intent on attacking the text as though on the deck of a North Sea trawler in the teeth of a force ten gale.

There are some commanding performances, notably Pieter Lawman’s self-satirising Mercutio and Charlie Anson’s fiercely loyal Benvolio. There is a touching raw vulnerability about Liam Bergin’s awakening Rosaline-free Romeo. But what dramatic or thematic sense is there in a Nurse devoid of maternal tenderness, discernibly no older than her “sweet Juliet” and as spikily aggressive as Lady Capulet?

Matti Houghton’s feisty Juliet lacks the virginal modesty and poetic sensitivity in what is a forceful but abrasive performance. Meditative devotional calm is the one key element eluding an otherwise compelling Friar Lawrence (Michael Jenn).

On balance, under Kate Saxon’s direction, this is an evening of intriguing perversities - not quite the birthday present Ludlow Festival deserves.