Juliet & Romeo Parent Guide

Did you know William Shakespeare didn’t write Romeo and Juliet?

No, I’m not engaging in one of those weird alternative authorship theories. And yes, Shakespeare wrote the play, but he didn’t come up with the plot; he adapted a story that had existed long before he set his masterful pen to it. We still love doing that: Movie studios think that if we liked the last 80 or so Spidermen, we’ll love another one, and they’re largely right. This is the Age of Adaptations, Remakes, Sequels, and Reboots. There’s nothing wrong with turning an already-great story into something new.

But boy, oh boy, is there something wrong with this movie.

Promotional material about Juliet and Romeo mentions that it’s based on the source story rather than on the Shakespeare play. That’s a good thing, because these two hours and two minutes’ traffic on our screen consist of completely different dialogue, a wildly different plot, and a whole lot of songs. But it can’t distance itself entirely from comparisons to the Bard, partly because this screenplay keeps borrowing little phrases such as “A plague on both your houses,” I am fortune’s fool,” and “What’s in a name?” from the Elizabethan tragedy.

Those “borrowings” are as close as this screenplay comes to greatness. Screenwriter (also director) Timothy Scott Bogart apparently aimed for cool, modern dialogue that would appeal to young viewers. I don’t know about cool, but he certainly made it modern, with lines like “Are you okay?” (One description I hope he wasn’t aiming for is “vapid,” and yet Bogart hit it like Robin Hood striking a bullseye.) “I love kissing you” is about as soaring as this prose ever gets. He also wrote some nutty anachronisms into the characters and storyline: At the start of the film, narration by Friar Lawrence (Derek Jacobi) makes a point of telling us the year is 1301 and that the context of the story is a struggle between a prince and a pope. Then the film goes on to feature things that wouldn’t have the slightest chance of happening in the 14^th Century: Juliet (Clara Rugaard), daughter of a nobleman, has been away at a school for years and likes reading Dante. She appears in trousers and throws knives. She is shocked that her father would presume to arrange her marriage. She wants Romeo to tell her she’s “a good kisser.” Do you see the problem? If you’re going to set it in 1301, set it in 1301. (The screenplay commits worse sins later, but more of that anon.)

This is not the first time a Shakespeare concept has been turned into a musical, of course, with Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim showing the world just how well it could be done in West Side Story. I wish I could say the songs in Juliet and Romeo were as successful. Great show tunes are varied, communicate deep emotions and ideas, move the plot, and are so memorable they become earworms. Juliet and Romeo’s songs are more or less interchangeable, are superficial (with such delights as “Falling in Like”), are mostly detours from the actual story rather than vehicles for great acting, and, although cloying, are so forgettable I can’t think of a single tune as I write these words.

There’s so much more to tell. I’d like to go into detail about strange departures from the plot we know, such as the couple’s marriage taking place before the masked ball finally happens. I’d like to tell you about the weird lighting and the nonsensical costuming. I’d even like to tell you about its few redeeming qualities, such as veteran greats Derek Jacobi and Jason Isaacs (as well as relative newcomer Nicholas Podany) turning in performances as strong as they can be given the material. Spoiler: But I need to save room for this:

Juliet and Romeo has a “happy ending.”

I’m not kidding. Timothy Scott Bogart springs a they’re-not-dead-after-all surprise at the end of this film, after which the titles suggest there’s going to be a sequel.

It’s going to take me a long time to get the bad taste of that out of my mouth.

This film has all the gravitas of a Bollywood B-movie cast entirely with K-pop stars. Please don’t see it.