Romeo and Juliet review – Rebecca Frecknall’s propulsive Almeida production

For years, when thinking about Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, I’ve joked that I much prefer the ballet.  Fewer words.  A more propulsive drive towards its tragic conclusion.  And Prokofiev’s overwhelming score.

Now it appears that director Rebecca Frecknall feels the same. Her new version of the play, starring the exciting pairing of Toheeb Jimoh and Isis Hainsworth as Romeo and Juliet, cuts great swathes of text, and adds long sections of Prokofiev and expressive dance.

The result is a fascinatingly concise interpretation, with the weight falling most heavily on the tragedy.  A play of many moods is suddenly sculpted sharply into a two-hour drama of waste, caused by bad decisions and braggadocio, which traps the young lovers in a cycle of doom.

It opens with the famous preface “Two houses, both alike in dignity” not spoken, but beamed onto a towering sandy coloured wall which the cast then push over so that it forms the playing area of Chloe Lamford’s set. The actors are dressed in a mixture of smart suits, cropped trousers, and swagged and ruffled shirts, spanning all eras and none. They’re lit with shadows, spotlights and smoke by Lee Curran.

Straight away, we’re thrust straight into the fighting between the rival houses of Montague and Capulet; there’s no text until the Prince separates the combatants and tells them to stop.

There’s no Rosaline and Juliet’s suitor Paris is reduced to a bit part. Mercutio (a wonderfully louche Jack Riddiford) gets his Queen Mab speech and a staggering death, but not a lot else. But the play is not just cut, it’s shaped. Friar Lawrence, played with surprising humour and bite by Paul Higgins, becomes a central figure; so does Jo McInnes’s world-weary and ferocious Nurse. Jyuddah Jaymes’ Tybalt shimmers with menace and intent, a leader intent on defending his honour, but he’s barely there. Yet the scene where Jamie Ballard’s Capulet tries to force Juliet to marry Paris becomes a sudden and terrifying explosion of rage and patriarchy which leaves even his wife (Amanda Bright) shocked.

The choreography, presumably by Frecknall with fight director Jonathan Holby, carries a lot of weight, creating a seething, pulsating society.  When not speaking or moving, the cast often lie prone on the stage, shooting upright or leaping to their feet, at the metallic sounds that punctuate the action in Gareth Fry’s evocative sound design.

It’s intelligent and enthralling, and certainly fulfils Frecknall’s aim of making us see the play afresh. As Juliet stirs in the midst of Romeo’s suicide, surrounded by walls studded with lit candles, there were gasps of horror. The sheer senselessness of the lovers’ deaths is all the more poignant for how painful and unwanted it is.

What goes missing in this approach, is the poetry of their love. Their early encounters are so rapid that we don’t quite get to feel the power of their passion for each other before they are overtaken by events.  Which feels a shame because Jimoh (who found fame in Ted Lasso) and Hainsworth are so thrillingly good.

He projects an open innocence, a graceful charm; he really is a gentle Romeo, a man made to be loved, and he speaks the lines with a tender understanding.  His exuberance – he chucks his boots off when they get into bed – is matched by Hainsworth’s open-hearted Juliet, shyly delighted at the overwhelming effects of love, strong in her resolve, shaking her head in little gestures of both defiance and fear as she acknowledges the terrors it will force her to endure.

Her playing, like the entire production, Frecknall’s first run at Shakespeare, has an originality and intensity that sweeps all before it.