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.