The two characters’ feelings for each-other form the basis for the whole play (somewhat inferred in the title); and a close analysis of the metaphors used in their contact reveals Romeo to be the most passionate, comparing her to a jewel (‘doth enrich the hand of yonder knight’); the sky’s earring (or the moon); ‘for earth too dear’; and, finally, a divinity (‘if I profane with my unworthiest hand’), while Juliet imagines the former as a flower (‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’); (‘bud of love’). Alternatively, Juliet could be the most realistic of the pair, less inclined to exaggerate, with Romeo retaining some of his Rosaline-induced immaturity. This is further established when Juliet undertakes a much more painful and daring suicide than Romeo, requiring extra guts and a stronger depression at the loss of her partner (we don’t know if Romeo wouldn’t have done, though). Conversely, this contrast in romantic language could be a result of the character’s genders – flowers more womanly than divinity (Christianity pretty much universal in England, their deity usually personified as a man; women don’t usually get the best treatment in scriptures) either by Shakespeare’s stereotypes or tailored to the audience’s.
The category of ‘dastardly fiend who gets it in the neck in the end’ is filled by Tybalt, Juliet’s cousin and Romeo’s arch enemy. Every good drama has to have a villain, providing a necessary relief for the men in the audience, who may tire of all the adoration. This role gets all the best pantomime lines (‘come in spite’, ‘solemnity this night’) and is a bit of a caricature, although the distance from the audience required a more exaggerated sense of expression as gestures were obscured. Rhyme may have served the same purpose – the predictability of lines preventing misinterpretation when scarcely audible.
No effective drama can be produced without tension built from contrast, and there is plenty of this in Shakespeare. Firstly, there is a deliberate variation in scene length (which is quite drastic considering this was four-hundred years before the process was facilitated by television) in the play, for example in the first act there is a clear pattern of two long scenes (14 pages, 16 pages) followed by two roughly half their length (5,8) and back (18). The acts are opened by prologues – another method of varying section durations. The effect of this is to prevent the audience foreseeing the action – if all the scenes take up roughly the same amount of time spectators will guess with a reasonable degree of accuracy when a significant event will take place (not usually in the middle of a Scene).
Another way in which Shakespeare achieves contrast is by changing the mood – not always relevantly. He does this at the beginning of Act one Scene 5. The aforementioned Scene commences with a busy and exited comic interlude involving the servants of Capulet – the attempt at humour is not as obvious as in Shakespeare’s typical interludes (the porter in Macbeth, for example, which seems rather immature for our revered bard) but in itself is an effective piece of drama; how relevant this scene is in the context of the tragedy is debatable however: it does dilute the atmosphere somewhat, but you have to sell-out a bit to fill the cheap seats I suppose. Anyway it’s not that funny, the skiving dishwasher with the amusing name (‘where’s Potpan?’) the furthest it goes; the variety and colour, along with the insight into the party take priority as far as dramatic continuity is concerned.
The foreshadowing used in this play is not exactly up to Arthur Conan-Doyle standard, although in act three scene five there is an ironic comment spoken by Juliet about wishing Romeo poisoned (‘if you could find out but a man to bear poison I would temper it that Romeo should upon receipt thereof soon sleep in quiet’) but this is almost pointless: the events are revealed immediately in the prologue. Instantly this seems like a dismal disappointment; but it allows the audience to concentrate on the more subtle messages of the play: marriage in those days was more of a ‘business proposition’ than a joining of lovers, and the fact that Juliet is willing to leave everyone she knows to marry someone she is affectionate towards rather than a rich and handsome set-up (‘it is an honour I wish not of’); but the fact that Pride and Prejudice was still making the point two-hundred years later says something about the influence of literature. Yet any sort of social comment could make you a cocktail stick in Shakespeare’s day.
Some slight psychological connotations can be found in the text. The famous quote ‘what’s in a name’ can be associated with the ideas on stereotyping by sociologists such as A. H. Halsey, and the inter-group relations of the two families also fit into this category. Another point worth mentioning regarding the significance of the play (however I’m not sure if it’s relevant) is that in the book I Claudius Robert Graves names two Gods, Roma and Julius, in pairing. It’s probably a coincidence, seeing as Roma (Romeo) represents the female soul of the Roman Empire; Julius (Juliet) is a proposed God for Julius Caesar - but you never know. They both got knifed.
The is an apparent rarity of stage and set directions in this play (for example, throughout this Scene the only directions in attendance either dictate the movement of actors on and off the stage or the recipient of a line (‘[To Juliet]’), with the exception of one notice, instructing a dance to kick off; in terms of set descriptions, a typical short sentence (‘the street, beside the gardens of the Capulet house’) is given) could be said to exhibit a blasé approach to dramatic impact. Conversely, it seems to me that he’s shrewdly facilitating the endurance of his work: barring the language, the play has a fairly anonymous date to it – most of the themes are pretty universal: love, death, fate, conflict; although another one, religion, has lost some of its power nowadays. The lack of instruction for speaking lines (e.g. ‘aggressively,’ or ‘with a lisp’) means that the play can be performed completely differently every time (the scene with the servants alone could be anything from slapstick to brutality); this means (like Beethoven’s 5th) the same theatre-goer can watch the play many times and be assured of a different and interesting performance. With the timeless set descriptions (‘the street, beside the gardens of the Capulet house’, could be set anywhere between 900ad and a hundred years in the future) the play can be adapted in almost unlimited ways –set in a gang-dominated beach town, for example (B Luhrman, 1996).
Shock techniques form an essential part of any drama (or at least ITV ones, anyway), and these age quicker than most things (why some of Shakespeare can seem so tame nowadays); and the religious metaphors used by the flirting youths come into this category, the comparisons drawn between teenage love and love for God (‘if I profane’, ‘if saints have hands’…) were then almost blasphemous. Not that I’m comparing Shakespeare to Bernard Manning – I think he shocked for a reason, in this case to broaden the plot a bit: not just any teenage attraction, a fate-driven (star-crossed lovers), almost holy romance (not your average chick-flick).
Studying the language used when discussing love a strange pattern emerges – seemingly innocent and sincere expression turns out to have a second meaning, usually a sexual one. Obviously the innuendoes would be clearer to audiences in Shakespeare’s day, but I like to think they were more subtle (the ‘world’s best playwright’ stooping to the level of late afternoon American sitcom isn’t an attractive notion). For example, ‘raise a spirit in his mistress’s circle’ contains three insinuations, and even the nurse is at it (‘for her sake rise and stand’).
Shakespeare has a command of his language however, and there are some pretty dominant implementations of poetry into the script (for example the prologues are sonnets), the most obvious of which is the recurring use of sonnets to suggest love, sometimes even dividing them between two characters in duet form. In the several poems of Act 1 Scene 5, where Romeo declares his love for Juliet, the language is considered even for Shakespeare – the two lovers striving to out-hyperbole (‘the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing but love’: Francis Bacon) each other (I suppose that’s all they could do before marriage), Romeo compares her to a jewel (‘doth enrich the hand of yonder knight’); the sky’s earring (or the moon); ‘for earth too dear’; and, finally, a divinity (‘if I profane with my unworthiest hand’…). This (melo)dramatic communication of love continues throughout the play, carried by the running metaphors of light, faith, and the stars (a perfect example occurs when Juliet uses ‘Phoebus’s lodging’ to signify the west, where Romeo is situated, referring to a sun god: a symbol for light, divinity, and a star).
I’m dubious as to whether the heavily considered use of speech makes for an effective piece of drama, for even when reading the play many of the phrases can be almost incomprehensible. Admittedly four-hundred years is a long time and many of the expressions spoken in Elizabethan times will have long since died (e.g. the word die used to have a sexual connotation) but the lack of visual stimulation (props, lighting…) coupled with the lower average intellect of the audience in Shakespeare’s day (no reality tv) makes you wonder what the people in the cheap seats gained from the performances except a hangover (the men usually drank beer there), and the social intercourse.