The Iraqi National Theatre’s adaptation had its press night postponed from its first May visit to the RSC’s Stratford-upon-Avon base until the London leg of its British performances. (The inconsistency of such decisions puzzles me: if a production is considered unready for reviewers who receive complimentary tickets, why is it fine for the public who pay full rates?) Monadhil Daood’s version roots the story palpably in post-war Iraq, and also alters the focus of its tragic outcome so that it is more salient to its native audience.
    
In this version (which plays at around 90 minutes without interruption), the Montagues and Capulets are headed by brothers, feuding over the family pearl-fishing boat. Romeo and Juliet, moreover, have been in love but separated for nine years, and are merely reunited and their love reaffirmed at Capulet’s party. The families thus know of their feelings for each other, and both patriarchs arrive to interrupt the wedding celebrations. Paris, to whom Juliet is betrothed by her father, is a middle-aged mujahid who already has three wives, and is so hardline about the family feud and then on revenge for the Capulet blood spilt that in the end even Capulet himself expels him (to spontaneous applause from the Arabic contingent of the press-night audience). The role of Friar Laurence is split beween that of a secular, forward-looking Teacher who arranges the lovers’ marriage and a Christian priest who provides the crypt in which they finally take refuge before… well, suffice to say that throughout the evening the air is torn by the sounds of bullets and bombs, and that this play is a tragedy of love destroyed by the revanchism which, it is implied, continues to taint Iraqi society.
    
Fawzia Mohammed makes the previously insubstantial Lady Montague into a woman at least as strong as her husband, confronting Capulet with the truth behind the feud. A trio of musicians accompany the action (dominated by an oud, curiously uncredited in the programme). I cannot judge the Arabic text, but the English translation ranges from jokes such as “The only way to get asylum in London is to be an extremist” to the succinct poetry of Romeo on his beloved: “She is like Eid.” Daood’s production repays attention, but does not always command it.

Written for the Financial Times.