Caught in a Bard Romance

Pennsylvania Ballet's Romeo and Juliet

by Janet Anderson

Candice DeTore

When Pennsylvania Ballet last presented Romeo and Juliet in 2005, the leading roles were performed by Zachary Hench and Julie Diana. During the run, Hench used his curtain call to drop to his knee and place an engagement ring on the finger of a surprised but thrilled Diana. Five years later, the married couple are back in those familiar roles.

Choreographer John Cranko's vision of story ballet lets dance truly tell the tale. PAB's opening-night performance of Romeo and Juliet was so vivid, you could practically hear Shakespeare's words as the performers acted out sword fights, ballroom dancing and marketplace frolics. The great Prokofiev score, with its wailing discordant undercurrent, hints at tragedy even in joyful scenes.

At this point, Hench and Diana own their roles. They bring the full confidence and bliss of their own personal relationship — not to mention their significant talents — to this tragic love story. Diana became virtually boneless, bending backward in her suitor's embrace; Hench replied physically with lusty, powerful leaps and turns.

Sergio Torrado was outrageously elegant as Tybalt, in command of the stage whenever he was on it. Jonathan Stiles and André Vytoptov gloried as Romeo's lighthearted buddies, Mercutio and Benvolio, respectively. Gabriella Yudenich turned her role as Juliet's nurse into a fine example of dance acting, while Amy Aldridge transformed her cameo as Lady Capulet into a small piece of stage perfection. Jermel Johnson's unbelievable flexibility suited his jester, while in-house stage manager Tony Costandino once again very nicely portrayed Lord Montague.

This is not some old charmer about swans or dolls that come to life. Once the curtain rises, the storyline unfolds in a clear, easily understood manner. Creating graceful transitions, dancers enter and exit from a simple, stunningly lit set of arches that begin as a marketplace and eventually morph into Juliet and Romeo's final resting place. It's beautiful melancholy, just as Shakespeare intended.