A modern setting for classic love tale
Outdoor rendition captivates with love and community spirit
KRomeo and Juliet Performed by the Circle of Fifths cast in Campbell Park, Paekā kā riki, from March 1-3, as part of the NZ Fringe Festival Directed by Shona Violin Produced by Nicola Horwood. Reviewed by Steve La Hood .. .. .. .. .. ā piti glows in the waning sunlight as the Paekā kā riki community take their seats around the skateboard park above the glittering sea. A big crowd. We all know one another — it’s a village.
And so begins this most cherished story of the star-crossed lovers, this everlasting tale of woe, of Juliet and her Romeo.
The play’s the thing.
In minutes, the audience is spellbound. It might be their kids playing Balthasar and Mercutio and Benvolio as a girl gang fighting with skateboards. It’s likely their nextdoor neighbours who are playing the Capulet and Montague parents. Quickly, though, the power of Shakespeare’s “box-of-tissues” masterpiece transcends that familiarity and we are holding our
community breath as the events grind to their inevitable conclusion.
The audience moves from the skateboard park to the children’s play area. The Capulet mansion is the climbing-house structure. We all dance on the lawn with the overhanging pō hutukawa and the stars above. Romeo and Juliet meet each other on the swings. Friar Lawrence’s cell is the bottom of the slide under the trees. The lighting is surprisingly subtle and a wee bit “fairy glen”. It feels so right.
This is not a review. It’s an affirmation.
I enjoy Juliet as a crabby, entitled tween. She certainly matches
inconstant Romeo and his/her variability. The Nurse is adored by all — it’s the best part, let’s face it. Mrs Capulet is excellent as is Capulet himself. What a bastard he is. Friar Lawrence, Tybalt, the Prince and poor, mistreated Paris are all — what’s the word? — real. In the moment.
The performances are varied in skill, but none lack enthusiasm or understanding. At times, though, the scene requires gravitas, not witty interpretation. Actions are broad because we are outdoors without microphones and, in a way, that’s probably how it was played under Shakespeare’s direction.
As the play comes to its awful
conclusion as we knew it would from the start, there’s not a peep from the audience. I see a mum consoling her child. I hear sighs. And then that earth-shattering summation from the Prince of Verona: “See what a scourge is laid upon your hate.”
He tells it like it is … in this performance, in our hearts and minds, in this divisive and dangerous world we’ve created — yes, even here in Aotearoa. Did William Shakespeare already know what 2024 would look like?