I t seems unfortunate to need to revert back to an old performance, but my schedule to this date has not allowed me to partake in any extra curricular activity. The names of many involved have escaped me, but their idealism of Shakespeare seems to continue haunting me to present. I am certainly no virgin to William Shakespeare; however I am not an expert either. I speak of one of the number of performances of Romeo & Juliet I have taken in, either through live performance or through one of many films directly or indirectly portraying their story. This rendition of the timeless classic has etched itself into my mind as being the reason I have not returned to Stratford in nearly two years. (I do admit I am beginning to miss it though.) There are a number of things that someone -- anyone -- should have told the director on his debut this sunny Sunday afternoon, not the least of them is that the object of a stage tragedy like Romeo and Juliet is to have the audience in tears by the end of the show, not your entire cast. But that's putting the cart before the horse, so first things first.

This particular directors take of Romeo and Juliet opened on the stage of the Festival Theatre, and the good news is it's set in the Verona of the Renaissance, which is just precisely what Shakespeare intended. Designers obviously had a field day with the elaborate frills and furbelows of the period, a fact that should utterly delight traditionalists. The good news, however, stops there, for under the direction of this buffoon, Shakespeare’s romantic tragedy goes terribly awry, offensively early in the production, even before the young lovers have set eyes on each other. In fact, from the first time Mercutio appears, one senses that things have taken a strange turn.

Although probably burned before crossing the border, I certainly wish I could find my program. To be