At the ballet begins, the two warring families, Capulets and Montagues — each one all huff and puff — collect stage right and left.
Pater Lorenzo, the Bard's Friar Laurence lies prostrate centre stage like a monk taking ablutions, but them draws a chalk line the whole depth of the stage between the two groups. Framed by towering Doric columns and a huge single-paned window, the hall also features a high walkway as the requisite balcony. A few scattered platforms serve as chairs, gangways and marriage bed throughout, each of them, for the most part, scuttled into position by the dancers themselves.
Expanding that potential into movement, his work is marked by sustained sequences of spinning, bending and an unparalleled degree of athleticism. There were contortions — hands and feet bent backwards, unexpected angles — but Spuck just as readily gave us sinuous, highly fluid work.
Indeed, no space around a contour, no emotional charge went unexplored. Indeed, the many complex and space-constricted sword fights in this production repeatedly kept the audience on the edge of their seats. For where Lady Capulet was cold, the Nurse was loving. Romeo and Juliet themselves were convincing and touching as first lovers. Finding his Juliet unresponsive in the tomb and assuming she is dead at the end of the ballet, his long and wrenching scream was like that of a fierce animal, and its pain left us shuddering.
Finally, as Juliet, Giulia Tonelli was sheer perfection, the true mainstay of this performance. While she epitomised the innocence and spunkiness of youth, the magic of her love for Romeo was palpable enough to have many in the audience break out in tears in the final scene.
