Although Shakespeare’s work was originally intended for the masses, for the past few centuries the theatrical elite, whose interpretations of Romeo and Juliet have above all revelled in the language, have claimed it.

Last night’s production at the ADC brought the word ‘bawdy’ to the forefront of the stage. Director John Haidar states in a film promo that he does not want his production to be ‘archaic or inaccessible’. It is arguable that Romeo and Juliet is neither of these things anyway, but just to make sure, not a ‘cock’, ‘sword’ or ‘prick’ was allowed to go undisturbed. Any innuendo that could be constructed, intended or otherwise, was celebrated alongside illustrative hand gestures and thrusts. And whilst such literal interpretations are hardly plumbing the depths of Shakespeare’s words, or challenging the audience, this was a conscious enough decision by Haidar and his team to ensure that it was thoroughly enjoyable. The laughs came easily in the first act, with Abi Tedder’s Nurse one of the most comedically successful depictions I have seen. The supporting cast were far from simply satellites orbiting about the star-crossed lovers, with the Montagues and Mercutio (Joey Batey) providing much of the afore-mentioned thrusting entertainment. However, this device turned sour at points, and the sense of threat that pervades most successful productions of this play was somewhat neglected. We were offered something close in the form of Batey, whose Mercutio was dogged by madness, death and an erotic interest in Romeo and most of the other characters on stage. His death scene was truly moving, and went some way to establish the tone of the second act with its slow spiral towards tragedy. Unfortunately, the lewdly funny tone of the first act made it difficult to adjust.

This was embodied in a scene change that took place every time the audience was transported into Juliet’s chamber. Two doors at the back of the stage would be opened by a comedy butler, and a bed would be carried to the front. In the context of the first act, this worked well – intentionally funny or not, the audience laughed. By the second act, it had happened far too often, and served only to slow the pace. When we were witness to Juliet’s entombment, and the same action was repeated, with a tattered sheet to indicate a shroud, it was positively cringe-worthy. A quicker, less conspicuous scene change at this point would have far better served this production. Similarly baffling decisions were taken throughout the final part of the second act, including piano notes overlaying Romeo’s (played by Nick Ricketts) final monologue. This was a travesty. Ricketts was superb in his elegy to love, and whilst some seemed to enjoy this decision, for me it was utterly distracting. Whilst the music in itself was startling in its starkness, beautiful even, it seemed incongruous and a pointless addition to the beauty of Romeo’s words and Ricketts’ delivery.

Not all musical additions were ill-advised: the decision to have Juliet (Phoebe Haines) sing was highly effective in heightening the tension that grows between the two lovers. Although her voice was perhaps too suggestive for the thirteen year-old girl Shakespeare has written, it certainly makes clear the reasons for Romeo’s sudden passion. Haines was bewitching throughout, though at times too self-possessed and aware of her womanly charms, particularly in the first act. This detracted from Juliet’s essence - that she is a child, elevated by love, yes, but still a child - a joyous aspect of the character that would have gone unnoticed were it not for Haines’ scenes with Nurse. However, in the second act her self-assurance was an asset, and ultimately Haines proved herself a strong and artful Juliet. Ricketts was the embodiment of Hazlitt’s assertion that Romeo is ‘Hamlet in love’ – lending his portrayal of the lover an emasculating edge of despair and self-pity. Their performances were wonderful, tender and evoked a convincing and devastating passion.

Casting decisions were generally strong, and amongst these performances were several interesting and original interpretations of character, including a well-pitched and funny Capulet (Andrew Brock). Peter (Jeff Carpenter) was wrung out for all his camp worth, and rewarded with manic laughter from sections of the audience. Hugh Wyld as Benvolio provided a steadying presence upon proceedings, but the highest plaudits are reserved for George Potts, who was by far the best Friar Laurence I have ever encountered. He moved with an authority, spoke with conviction, and successfully realised Haidar’s desire for his adaptation to ultimately speak to a modern audience, and achieved it without resorting to palpable means. He stole the show.

Haidar’s Romeo and Juliet is funny, accessible and well performed, but the overriding sense of sadness and inevitability that pervades the script was sometimes jeopardised by strange directorial decisions. The zombifed Tybalt and Mercutio as shadowy witnesses to the final tableaux was too obvious and undermined earlier subtleties. Haidar’s vision of the play as realised through the lens of Italian cinema was an interesting and largely successful one. I would’ve enjoyed the filmic elements more if they were consistent – the lighting was used to great effect but a film reel at the end felt saccharine.

This was a robust ensemble piece that carries the stamp of a promising director, who unfortunately undermines the production’s strengths with some very bizarre decisions.