As the star-crossed lovers brood on opposite ends of the balcony, their families march on stage to stand beneath them. A man in black emerges to narrate the prologue, gesturing to backlit scenes of Verona, before donning his hat, announcing himself the prince, and stepping back to let violent sword-fighting begin in the Folger Shakespeare Theatre’s production of Romeo and Juliet, directed by Aaron Posner.
Clad in Victorian steampunk attire, Romeo, played by the delightfully melodramatic Michael Goldsmith, presents himself as an aspiring slam poet, perpetually clutching a black moleskin notebook and searching for anything to infuse his words with a semblance of emotional depth. His swoons are interrupted only by a scratching of his pen or a thumbing through his notes to find the words that once sounded right to describe his love. As the play progresses out of the initial stages of playful, familial teasing about love, he almost seems to be falling, not so much into love, but into a previously unknown sincerity.
Meanwhile, Erin Weaver captures Juliet’s growth from youthful insolence, gleefully flipping off her mother’s back and whining to her Nurse, even if her overwrought emotions never quite dissipate. The Nurse, portrayed in all her bawdy glory by Sherri Edelen, provides the perfect comic relief to the tensions of the Capulet house, ruled by an abusive alcoholic Lord Capulet (Brian Dykstra).
Posner succeeds in his development of Lady Montague and Lady Capulet, played by Michele Osherow and Shannon Koob, respectively, transforming them from stock characters with a handful of lines into fully-developed individuals with an emotional depth that belies their unhappiness. While Lady Montague pops pills in the background from the start, silently committing suicide after Romeo’s banishment, Lady Capulet drinks away the reality of her husband’s abuse, casting withering glances at his receding back with all the power she can muster.
Posner plays up the comic elements of this tragedy for the first three acts to the delight of the audience, presenting us with a stoner philosopher Friar Lawrence, captured aptly by the talented Eric Hissom, and a well-choreographed scene of lighthearted revelry at the Capulet’s ball. It was one of the only scenes in which Mercutio (Brad Koed) has the chance to display his schoolboy charm—an aspect that often disappears in Posner’s darker interpretation of the character. However, a shadow falls even within the playful Queen Mab scene as Mercutio and Benvolio (Aaron Bliden) unwittingly act out the very motions of the star-crossed lovers’ death in a description of what they deem an absurd impossibility.
From the overall comedic genius of the first few acts, the play takes a sharp turn toward tragedy with Romeo’s exile and his description and misinterpretation of the dream that foretells his own fated future. From this moment on, the deceased gather together in a macabre assembly on the balcony, motionless and silent, moving only to allow new bodies to join them, gazing down upon the actions of the young lovers as they propel themselves closer and closer to death.
Despite this beautifully moving depiction of death, Romeo and Juliet falls flat in the play’s most famous scene, as both Romeo and Juliet’s histrionics take their pain to the point of absurdity. In one final moment of redemption, however, Juliet’s last gasps of air peter out, leading to a beat of silence, then to one final collective sigh from the dead on the dais. The scene fades to black, bringing the audience back to the dark reality of the closing without granting us the words of redemption that the text provides.
