It is difficult to entertain the idea of a dialogue-less Shakespearean production being able to capture the original work’s tidal emotions. Shakespeare’s wonderful lines remain a fundamental part of our language, though their references are lost. However, wordless Shakespeare isn’t something new. “King John” was adapted into a silent film in 1899, and before that, ballet brought The Bard to new audiences worldwide.
The Pittsburgh Ballet’s newest production of Shakespeare’s “Romeo And Juliet” is backed by Sergei Prokofiev’s suite of the same name. I doubted if the idea could flourish in its own way, or if it would be limited to a derivative of the original play. Delightfully, not only does it capture the emotional tide of the original, but what it lacks in the puns and prose, it more than makes up for in its brilliant choreography.
The performers go to great lengths to realize the text and its transformation into dance. Their weightless flights across the stage paired with the music’s powerful crescendos nearly brought the audience to tears. The show somehow simultaneously told and withheld the story of love at first sight, as well as the star-crossed fate that follows. This is made possible through the artful choreography by Jean-Christophe Maillot — which portrays symbolic, sometimes primal, gestures — and enhanced by a score that elicits raw emotion from the audience. The warmth is almost tangible even from the audience, as one is invited to rethink their own life-altering moments of love.
This is culminated in a wonderful sequence cloaked in a deep ocean blue, where Romeo and Juliet fall into one another, gliding off into impressive physical stunts one cannot help but marvel at, ending in their embrace within their bedchamber. At least, we can perceive it as a bedchamber, as the set is a completely white-walled room with constantly shifting borders, shapes, and colored lights, accomplishing the “less is more” effect.
The skillsets of Colin McCaslin and Grace Rookstool, who play Romeo and Juliet, respectively, also work well together. More than once, I was compelled to jump up and join them, and would have if not for the security who would likely stop me. Their improvisational range is their best and most crucial skill. Even as the conductor and stage director would issue pauses and corrections to the production, the actors’ professionalism ensured that the audience would never know of their mistakes. Perhaps it’s the nerves of love that we relate to, as we reflect on our own mistakes in love while the tragedy plays out.
The material from the play is also never lost on spectators. I recognized the most memorable scenes and anyone — even one who has not seen or read the original source material — could follow along smoothly and be enthralled by the work. Mercutio’s death at the hands of Tybalt, along with Romeo’s vengeance, was one of the best stretches of the night. It was embellished by the symphony, whose music has been stuck in my head for days now. Blood and feud are realized poetically through a long red cloth, which contrasts from the colors presented on everyone’s clothes. It makes a statement about the familiar hue in all of us: that whether we are hated or loved, we all bleed the same. Tragedy is a tragedy no matter the origin. Perhaps it’s the attempt to get that point across which makes the story of Romeo and Juliet so over-told.
It is easy to roll one’s eyes at the synopsis of the play. Two teenagers fall in love, and within five days, they leave themselves and four of their relatives dead. Misunderstood, unheard, and mistreated, their decisions are scrutinized to make an example of the foolishness of the youth. That reading misses the entire point of the play. No matter the complaints held against it, the play will never change. The couple will never completely learn if they found true love or if their relationship was a three-day extension on their weekend fling. Their story is never given enough time to find an answer, and still, their cautionary tale does not lose its meaning.
To love is to live, or so it is said. Finding it rational to end life with the termination of a hardly-bloomed love makes for a fine example of poor judgment. In this case, it also makes for a great love story.
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