Theatre in Review: Romeo and Juliet (Richard Rodgers Theatre)The next time I start to complain about some oddball high-concept Shakespeare production, I will think of David Leveaux's Broadway staging of Romeo and Juliet; that will shut me up. This one is a real head-scratcher -- not because its intentions are so obscure, but because it seems to have no intentions whatsoever. It opens with a nerve-rattlingly discordant burst of music that suggests we are in for a rough, raw, violent night of it, but the action that follows is surprisingly sedate. The Capulets are played by black actors and the Montagues are exclusively white, but if anyone intended to make a statement about race, it was lost in the rehearsal room. The action unfolds in a contemporary setting, apparently so Romeo can make his first entrance on a motorcycle, a gag that reminded me not of Shakespeare's tragic hero but of Conrad Birdie cruising into Sweet Apple, Ohio. From time to time, portions of the set burst into flames, but little else catches fire at the Richard Rodgers. The lack of excitement extends to the production's leads, neither of whom demonstrates any skill at speaking iambic pentameter verse. As Romeo, Orlando Bloom has fashioned a kind of drawl that swallows whole sentences, leaving behind little more than a loose collection of vowel sounds. In contrast, Condola Rashad, his Juliet, often speaks her lines in a rush, fighting their natural rhythms to a standstill. Line for line, Romeo and Juliet may be one of Shakespeare's most-quoted plays, but an alarming number of them slipped past me unheard. Bloom, of course, is best known for the Pirates of the Caribbean and Lord of the Rings films; Rashad has made a name for herself in the work of contemporary playwrights such as Lydia R. Diamond and Horton Foote. It isn't clear from their program bios if either actor has had classical training, but, on the evidence, I'm guessing they haven't. If nothing else, this production should be a cautionary tale for stars looking to tackle verse drama; if you're new to this challenging style, Broadway may not be the ideal place to start. In addition, neither Bloom nor Rashad provides much in the way of emotional variety. Bloom has a single attitude for all occasions, an awe-struck, declamatory style matched with looks of happy astonishment or stern disapproval as the occasion demands. Rashad has a mildly flirtatious, but generally placid, manner; she never begins to suggest a young woman experiencing for the first time the destabilizing effects of passion. Leveaux stages their first meeting, at the Capulets' ball, with them instantly taking part in a prolonged kiss, a cute bit that has an authentic touch of adolescent discovery about it; still, you wonder why Juliet's parents -- who are shopping her, matrimonially speaking, to the gentlemanly Paris -- aren't having a conniption over their daughter's necking in public with a stranger. The balcony scene is cleverly staged, with Juliet standing on a walkway that extends out over the stage and Romeo hanging from the edge of it, but it comes off as not much more than a promising first date. And when tragedy intervenes and both Romeo and Juliet must face an escalating list of woes, including separation, exile, and death, it is surprisingly late in the evening before either Bloom or Rashad seems more than a bit miffed. But the performances of a wildly uneven supporting cast strongly suggest that Bloom and Rashad are not alone in being at sea on stage at the Rodgers these nights. On the plus side is Jayne Houdyshell's Nurse, which, in addition to being blessedly audible, is a rich and robust conception, whether she is striking a servile pose ("I am the drudge and toil in your delight"), postponing a vital bit of news by dramatically opening a little metal box and daintily extracting a mint, or frantically trying to convince Juliet to pragmatically abandon Romeo (who is by now her husband) and make a marriage with Paris. Christian Camargo's deadpan, yet deeply insolent, Mercutio is an original creation that might work better in a different production. Conrad Kemp's eminently well-spoken Benvolio makes a strong impression, powerfully conveying his dismay as Romeo slides toward disaster. (Then again, when Benvolio is a dominant presence in Romeo and Juliet, something is definitely not right.) On the other hand, Chuck Cooper and Roslyn Ruff as Lord and Lady Capulet are superficial creations, while failing to get at the emotions hidden underneath their lines. (Neither of them seems particularly upset by the death of their kinsman, Tybalt, making their rash decision to marry Juliet off to Paris seem unusually callous and unfeeling.) Brent Carver, a regular at Canada's Stratford Festival who has offered electrifying performances in the Broadway musicals Kiss of the Spider Woman and Parade, all but walks through the role of Friar Laurence, his lines all too often vanishing into the large volume of the Richard Rodgers. The audibility problem is exacerbated by David Van Tieghem's sound design, which delivers his original music so loudly that any unamplified human voice that follows suffers mightily in comparison. Much better is Jesse Poleshuck's set, which is dominated by a wall, broken into three parts and featuring a medieval fresco eroded by time and industrial pollution; it's an imaginative and striking idea that evokes the right contemporary note. David Weiner's lighting, aside from the ball scene, in which everyone downstage is mysteriously left in the dark, is otherwise marvelous, creating a series of pitiless sunlight looks combined with icy moonlight washes. Fabio Toblini's costumes -- jeans and t-shirts for the young men, flowing "timeless" gowns for the ladies, and, oddly enough, a leisure suit for Lord Capulet, never come together to make a coherent statement. Mysteriously, Friar Laurence is dressed so as to suggest that he runs an ashram; stripped of any clerical garb, it becomes all the more difficult to understand his privileged place in Veronese society. The best thing about Leveaux's staging is its rapid pace, which is aided by the simplicity of Poleshuck's set design. But really all this Romeo and Juliet offers is a quick bus tour of Shakespeare's text plus a bit of stargazing. Missing in action are the text's moonstruck poetry, any sense of a society riven by violence, or an appreciation of the tragic twists that destroy two promising young lives. If anyone had any thoughts about this all-too-familiar classic, they remain, like so much of the script, hard to make out.--David Barbour 
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