"Romeo & Juliet, On Motifs of Shakespeare"
Mark Morris Dance Group
The Rose Theater
New York, NY
May 17, 2009
copyright © 2009 by Lisa Rinehart
Let's get something straight -- there are no soaring lifts in Mark Morris' "Romeo & Juliet, On Motifs of Shakespeare," no stage loads of sword clanking nobles, no fat bumbling nurse. There's not even a tragic ending. But bring fresh eyes to this elegantly spare production of everyone's favorite love story and you won't be disappointed.
With a characteristically gutsy nod to history , Morris uses Sergey Prokofiev's ballet score in its original 1935 form. Prokofiev, along with Soviet dramatist, Sergei Radlov, re-shaped Shakespeare's tragedy into an idealized Soviet morality story where the lovers don't die at the end. Radlov described it as, "a struggle for the right to love by young, strong, and progressive people battling against feudal traditions and feudal outlooks on marriage and family."
Cue Komsomol and Red Army marching band.
But although the ending is not as baroque and passion-pumped as we may want, it's real. And that's the complexity behind Prokofiev's lushly dissonant score and Morris' intricate and earthy choreography.
Using his familiar vocabulary of weighty, full bodied movement for crowd scenes, Morris fills the stage with artfully syncopated circles of folksy claps, stomps and finger snaps. The Montagues and Capulets insult each other with graphic finger flips and crotch grabs. Things escalate until dancers are rolling on the ground punching, kicking and pulling hair. Ugly, but real.
Morris tempers the steps for Romeo and Juliet so that low, long arabesques, simple turns and gently entwined arms capture the thrill of first love. But Morris' ideas for the lovers go further than the sweet and chaste. A passionate stolen kiss in the ballroom leaves Juliet reeling as any first-time-kissed adolescent would. The lovers roll nearly naked in the sheets during the bedroom scene. Romeo, buttocks bared to the audience, opens his arms and arches back in an exhultant one-legged kneel in front of Juliet as though to say "It's all yours, baby." Kind of awkward, but endearingly so. Morris gives it to us clear and straight.
After a year of performances since the work's premier at the Fisher Center for the Performing Arts at Bard College, however, much of the credit for the impact of this production goes to Morris' dancers. Theirs are some of the finest danced characterizations to be seen. Amber Darragh, sidelined by pregnancy for the New York performances, is marvelous as a sexy and dynamic Mercutio. (Yes, Morris uses women in male roles, but they are impressively believable) and Julie Worden is larger than life as the hot tempered Tybalt. Lauren Grant makes a vivacious Nurse and Bradon McDonald a refreshingly thug-ish Paris.
The two casts of lovers have different strengths. Petite Maile Okamura and boyish Noah Vinson bring a welcome delicacy to their roles, but Rita Donahue and David Leventhal have a depth of interpretation that is riveting. Leventhal, a graceful, more balletic dancer than is usual in Morris' company, gives Romeo an impassioned impulsiveness. And Donahue, a lovely dancer, but an even better actress, may be one of the best Juliets I've ever seen. Every glance has meaning, every step is weighted with purpose. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
Finally, aside from Martin Pakledinaz's brilliantly colored and perfectly modernized Veronese-esque costumes and Allen Moyer's set of sleek blond wood panels that open like giant louvers, the lynch pin of this production is conductor Stefan Asbury's flawless rendition of Prokofiev's score. Played by the Orchestra of St. Luke's, the music is breathtaking.
I've tried not to gush, but of the several danced productions of Romeo & Juliet in evidence this season, this was the one to see.