William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet

William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet (1996), directed by Baz Luhrman

Humorist Pat McManus has written about the need many of us have for life preservers. No, not personal floatation devices, but things that will actually preserve our lives. If I had a life preserver, it would prevent me from seeing the worst of film. It would look like a vest, but under certain conditions of danger, arms would spring out of it and flail wildly, while speakers inside the vest would broadcast the message, "Warning, Dale Abersold, danger!" In case I ignored that warning, the preserver would then block my eyes with peril-sensitive sunglasses, thus preventing me from seeing any movie with a "Friends" cast member, any movie by Michael Bay, and any movie based on a literary source bearing the author's name in the title.

Why the last condition? Because the most self-indulgent films seem intent on sullying the name of an unwilling, long-dead collaborator. Take Bram Stoker's Dracula, for instance. Better yet, take every print, negative, and video of the film and chuck it into the oblivion it so richly deserves. Okay, so Francis Ford Coppola wanted to make a stylish vampire movie without buying the rights to an Anne Rice novel. Fine. Just don't call it Bram Stoker's Dracula, when it is clearly Francis Ford "Simultaneously Suffering from Career Malaise and Male Menopause" Coppola's Dracula.

Which brings me to the film at hand. Having used all my venom on Coppola's worthier victim, let me just say that Luhrman's film isn't terrible. It at least had the conviction to go whole hog in updating Shakespeare's play, rather than setting it in an archaic/modernistic never-never-land like so many stage productions. And the production and costume designs, while obvious attempts to cover all kitschy stylistic bases, were a visual treat, at least admirable for camp value.

So much for that. What of the players? Claire Danes is a lovely, dewy young actress. Leonardo di Caprio is, if anything, even prettier than her. As thespians, however, the pair are about as interesting as drywall. But let's face it, this movie isn't about a pair of star-crossed lovers: it's about unkempt hair and constant exposure of Di Caprio's nipples.

Most of the cast is equally incapable of dealing with Shakespeare's poetry. I mean, Paul Sorvino and Brian Dennehy in Shakespeare? An episode of "Law and Order," maybe, but not Shakespeare. John Leguizamo and Harold Perrineau as Tybalt and Mercutio, respectively, hector violently with their parts, but at least they make an impression. Don't even get me started about M. Emmet Walsh as the apothecary.

Not surprisingly, the best actors are not American: Pete Postlethwaite makes a grave Friar Laurence, while Miriam Margolyes ("Blackadder" fans will remember her as the Infanta of Spain) captures the spirit of Juliet's cranky nurse. Of the Yanks, the best is Vondie Curtis Hall, as a seething "Captain Prince."

Baz Luhrman, an Australian, has been known to opera fans for a while as a director more interested in the visual than the dramatic. His La Boheme production (aired on PBS and available on video) is also updated, but with a cast not entirely equal to the demands of the old warhorse (a mural of the words "L'amour" in Romeo + Juliet is a direct nod to his Boheme production). In his Shakespeare, Luhrman seems intent on being hip at all costs. Quick cuts, jokey sound effects, it's all a bit much. What works in the film can be more attributed to Shakespeare than to Luhrman.

Finally, a plea to motion picture producers everywhere: we appreciate the constant need for new blood among directors. But not every new director has to do everything MTV-style. Many of us do prefer, say, a Kenneth Branagh over a Simon West or a Baz Luhrman. Just a little suggestion.

Two stars