But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east and Juliet is the sun.
When I recently gave my Year 10 English class a selection of movies to choose from for their upcoming film study, I was surprised when the overwhelming majority of them (and not just girls) picked Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo and Juliet. So far in my teaching career I’ve steered clear of Shakespeare, mostly because I’ve found students struggle enough with the vagaries of contemporary English — without introducing the confusion of an archaic, four-hundred-year-old dialect.
My reluctance was borne out when after watching the film, the overwhelming majority of the class were of the opinion that they hated it.
“That was the dumbest movie I’ve ever seen,” said one student.
“Totally gay,” ventured another.
“I didn’t understand anything they said,” said several more. “Can we watch something else?”
High on Shakespearean love poetry, I was unsympathetic to their cause. “No! I gave you a choice. I warned you about the language and still, this is what you chose. It’s your own fault — we’re not going back now.”
So for the last couple of weeks we’ve taken a closer look at ‘the greatest love story ever told’. While I don’t think I’ve managed to turn any of the haters around yet, I’m fairly certain I’ve at least managed to increase the general level of understanding.
Anyway, I’ve enjoyed it, and that’s important (trying to teach content that you’re not interested in yourself can become very tedious very quickly). As an introduction to Shakespeare for the beginner, I highly rate Luhrmann’s version, released in 1996. It gets stick from Shakespeare purists because there’s nothing remotely subtle about it — Luhrmann doesn’t really do subtle — and the whole production is completely over the top.
For instance, if there was any doubt that all the guns that are waved about onscreen are supposed to be modern representations of bladed weapons, Luhrmann gives us close up shots of the guns with their model names engraved into them — Sword, Dagger, Rapier etc. — just to make sure the representation is painfully clear.
And to ensure there’s no confusion between members of the two feuding families, the differences between them are made blatantly obvious. The Montague boys are loud and raucous; dressed in unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts and driving a bright yellow convertible, their arrival is accompanied by grinding rock music.
The dark and sinister Capulets, on the other hand, wear tailored suits with waistcoats and fancy shoes and drive a dark blue saloon, their presence announced by fluid strains of Latino style surf guitar.
But that’s exactly why it’s so great for newbies. There’s no need to understand anything the characters say because all the other visual and aural cues make it clear what’s going on in the story.
It also helps that the acting is tremendous — Leonardo DiCaprio totally inhabits the role of Romeo, and while Claire Danes might be a little less convincing as Juliet, it’s only because Leo is so good. The performances of the supporting cast are also uniformly excellent. If you’ve never seen it, there’s plenty worse ways to spend two hours of your life.
Teenagers are a tough crowd though. Not even the tragic ending where Romeo drinks poison and Juliet shoots herself was enough to sway them. “Should’ve been more blood,” they all reckoned.
“Isn’t that what all girls want?” I asked. “A boy who’s willing to die for them?”
“What use is a boyfriend if he’s dead?” came the reply.
It’s hard to argue with that.
This week we’re getting up close and personal with the infamous ‘balcony scene’. Can one of the greatest romantic encounters in the history of storytelling melt the stone-cold cynical hearts of the type of people who routinely begin and end relationships via Messenger and who think that getting married to someone the day after you meet them for the first time is stupid?
I’m not holding my breath.
Poor Shakespeare. Love ain’t what it used to be.
Are you a fan of Romeo and Juliet? Why or why not? Let me know in the comments.
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