A Funny Thing Happened After Saying "No, I Won't See Romeo et Juliet"

Down the rabbit hole of obsession / enchantment / possession / all that delicious jazz we passionate extremists love

Dear Beautiful Friends,

I’ve been down a rabbit hole of an obsession-possession so beautiful, I must share.

It started with my mom’s invitation to see the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s production of Romeo et Juliet.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’ll go see the contemporary program in June.”

I attend a lot of dance performances, but stopped seeing fussy classical ballet decades ago. My friend Anne and I went to see Swan Lake years ago and had to leave early because we were snorting with laughter at how silly and frilly it was. (The gals behind us were laughing too, which didn’t help.)

And then—

Last fall, I drove my mom and her friends to see PNB’s “Prodigal Son.” As a chauffeur, I was given a ticket. This production exalted my senses so unexpectedly, I had to rethink all my classical prejudices. Which I did; then promptly forgot. Contemporary dance only.

But here’s the thing: Since my mom moved to Mercer Island over two years ago, I’ve been attending more classical performances that “I don’t like.”

Sometimes I like what I “don’t like”

Take, for example: Mahler, Wagner, Balanchine (haven’t we seen enough Mr B?). Because it’s fun to have my mom back in town, and coming out of covid hibernation unleashed an unusual appetite to be out in the world, I’ve been saying YES more.

Some of these YESES (always preceded by a strong “no”) have blown my mind & expectations to smithereens.

For example:

Seattle Symphony’s performance of Mahler’s Resurrection was the most exciting musical performance of my life; Seattle Opera’s steampunk production of Wagner’s Das Rheingold—with the orchestra on stage🤯🤯—was radical, and had me on the edge of my seat, drop-lipped and gasping.

Have my tastes changed? Is this my new post-midlife palate? Whatever this widening capacity for modern classical, I’ll take it!

The second time my mom asked to see Romeo et Juliet, I remembered this particular PNB production was modern, not the frilly, silly ballets of yore.

“Yes, why not?” I said, and off we went, a week later, to a Sunday matinee.

Romeo et Juliet, choreographed by Jean-Christoph Maillot, of the Ballet de Monte Carlo

This R et J was the most modern, contemporary ballet I’ve seen: Set design, choreography, music (Prokofiev was a punk rocker of classical music). Romeo was performed by Lucien Postlewaite, the same dancer I saw as the Prodigal Son. I follow him on Insta, and met him through my friend Jeanette. At forty-one, Lucien physically and emotionally enters his characters so fully and artfully, I’ll see anything he dances. For short clips from the ballet and more, check out Lucien’s Instagram page.

The role of Juliet was performed by Clara Ruf Maldonado. The dancers discuss what it’s like to prepare for and dance these roles that involve some heavy-duty acting chops, here.

THE MUSIC❣️

For the next week, I played Prokofiev’s “Dance of the Knights” about 845 times. “Do you mind if—” I asked Steve.

“Go ahead,” he nodded, after 400 requests. “I like it too.” I married someone who also puts his current favorites on Replay. He gets it.

Prokofiev’s music is sweeping, big and bold, romantic and twitchy. Beautiful and impatient. It’s not music I listen to. I bucket him with Stravinsky, Mahler—the discordant moderns. But apparently, my “taste” is shifting and growing.

“Dance of the Knights” — what do I say about this piece? If I had to marry a song, I’d commit myself to this one.

For days, like a love-sick Juliet, I kept thinking about the ballet, listening and humming away, imagining the moodiness of the set, the modernism.

So what’s a girl in post-show longing to do?

GO AGAIN!

I went with my friends Jeanette and Will. It was a Saturday night. I loved it as much, maybe even more. The music, increasingly familiar, felt like a new friend I wanted to get to know, in that way you fall in love with some people and want to see them all the time.

Here’s a thing:

I can’t read or watch anything Romeo-and-Juliet-ish without holding up to the Zeffirelli production of R+J. Like many of my generation, my eighth (ninth?) grade class went on a field trip to see this movie. Everything about this lush 1968 film scooped and seduced my 14-year-old romantic heart: that youthful, sweet-tart idealism of Great Love, the requited/unrequited yearning.

Olivia Hussey! Star-crossed love!

Something about that movie version of R+J plunked itself down inside my DNA/cells/human conditioning, and made a home. Lines and scenes still return to me, almost 50 years later. “… let lips do what hands do.” Uh, yes please!

The next day, I found the movie on one of our streaming platforms and rewatched it after god-knows how many decades. I savored every romantic, schmaltzy, ribald, feisty, overdramatic second of it. I was unable to experience the movie objectively. Don’t ask me to recommend it, I’m unable to.

Michael York as Tybalt, and his eyebrows, good god.

The wonderfully dirty-minded nurse, who still seems “old” to me, was 36. Romeo and Juliet so perfectly cast—at 16 and 17, they were just about as young as we middle school field tripsters were as we sat in the theater spellbound.

Today we might call this “screen scratching,” but when in Verona..

Perhaps the poultice/antidote during challenging times is tending to a visiting obsession-enchantment.

Try a few of these: