Another World

EVER SINCE CONTEMPORARY SPEECH ceased to resemble Shakespeare's glorious language. every Shakespearean production anywhere-regardless of setting, costumes, or American accent-has unfolded in its own particular fantasy world. No extremity of stripling down or jazzing up can create the illusion that a Hamlet or a Romeo and Juliet takes place in the modern world; on the other hand, only the most through and scholarly accumulation of historical trivia can even hope to transport the audience back to the actual world the Bard wrote in. Between the two extremes fall the infinite ways Shakespeare is actually played-each in its way imaginary.

Which is one reason, at least, why Bill Rauch's style so effectively transforms this Romeo and Juliet in to a massive but vitally exciting production, a weird semi-suburban epic that often lumbers but almost never drags. Rauch's main talent lies in evoking an intricate, extensive, wholly believable world from a few strategically placed details. He does it so surely and imaginatively that, in this instance, the viewer occasionally becomes a trifle dizzy at the overlapping vistas. More to the point. Rauch stumbles on his own inventiveness when a device or a setting draws too much attention to itself, rupturing the smooth unity imposed by the over layer of Shakespeare

Such missteps are rare. The bulk of the show-bulky indeed at three and a quarters' hours running time-is authoritative despite a setting and idiom which differ emphatically from the Shakespearean, the modern, or anything yet between the two. This Verona, though at times unsubtle suburban in tone, also glitters with an extra vagina sense of the exotic.

On a stage reduced to one endless stretch of carpet-portions of which move up and down throughout-the inhabitants of this world stalk about in clothes ranging from a blood-red kimono to assorted feather boas and beaver caps. Their manners are peculiar, but their props and other accoutrements seem designed to inspire total familiarity.

For example. Miriam Schmir-who turns in a capable and convincing performance as Juliet's nurse-carries a gigantic qualified carryall overflowing with blankets. Messengers wear camping rack stacks. Juliet, Lady Capulet and the nurse confer across what appears to be an infinite breakfast table. formed by a portion of the stage which rises up under the plates.

Seated so far apart, at the distant points of a triangle, the Nurse chatters away while Lady Capulet (Thania Papas) conveys all the glamorous awkwardness of a pampered preppie mom, and Juliet Claudia Silver) sits in gawky adolescent silence.

One of the themes Rauch pursues most vigorously is the generation gap motif; he has said he can't shake the radical impression that if the young lovers had only appealed to their families for help, unexpected understanding might have Everett the disaster. And whether any invention of the sort comes from the script or not-presumably not-it comes through clearly when played. Both lovers appear awkward and withdrawn at home. becoming human and open only to each other.

WHAT HOLDS ALL THESE revolutionary approaches to gather is consistently superb line reading not only on the classic soliloquies but even during the endless stretches of desultory verbal fencing. He even incorporates the rarely heard second second-act prologue which summarizes the lovers developing plight.

While this purist attitude strains the cast and audience endurance to the limit, it somehow manages not to spill over. With the unfortunate exception of Romeo's sidekicks Benvolio and Mercutio (Kate Levin and Jeannie Affelder), almost everyone -- even the servants saddled with endless forced Elizabethan puns --manage to speak in natural tones. Silver as Juliet stands out particularly in this respect, somehow projecting both the terrified innocence of a thirteen-year old and, gradually, the woman's depth of commitment and tragedy Few Juliet's have matured so convincingly.

Nick Wyse as Romeo supports her admirably, as does Benjamin Evett as a surprisingly young and hip friar Lawrence, who appears to function essentially as Romeo's freshman proctor. (In one of the show's nicest and most economical touches. Romeo, visiting Lawrence's cell grabs a Coke from the fridge before settling down on the bed to confess.) Rauch occasionally requires this thoroughly alert crew to do something odd--kill one another with picnic cutlery, for instance, or mutely clutch miscellaneous blankets and bedding around their shoulders in mourning for Juliet's initial "death." But the cast tends to rise to even the most arbitrary occasion, and delivers without breaking the illusion.

IN ONLY TWO SPOTS does Rush trip over the illusion he has created--and in each case the self-consciousness of the directorial gesture, not its content, spoils the effect. Before the play starts, a spotlight focuses on the stage's real rolling un Shakespearean tones what the audience's curiosity as to "what's behind the curtain," game show style. Far bit for this reviewer to reveal what in Fact happens when the curtains part later on. But if the admittedly stunning effect is intended to be integral to the production, why bill it to all intents and purposes as separate? And if one ruling idea is to paintRomeo and Julietin an entirely different light while preserving its completeness, why reroute attention from the product back onto its adapter?

A similar tendency towards the personal trademark mars Rauch's enigmatic final scene, as one mute autumn leaf flutters slowly out of the overhead grill. But interestingly, a Mercutio and Benvolio, and their depiction as Romeo's childhood pals--avoids this tendency altogether. The women succeed, despite occasional awkwardness, precisely because their gender attracts no notice and the audience soon responds in kind.

Not surprisingly the play survives these intrusions. As the company gains momentum and finishes adapting to the language. Rauch's elaborate conception loses its oddity and begins to work like another part of the technologically miraculous set, whose pieces and extensions metamorphose into beds, bathtubs or starry summer nights without detracting from the matter at hand. Likewise as long as Rauch uses his endless vision as a tool and keeps it out of the foot lights, he can work miracles on stage.