Romeo and Juliet

Hello and welcome. Just imagine me speaking in a Polish accent at this point because yes, it is your ruler of all fairly frequently occurring Poles, Soffski Stamskov.

Romeo and Juliet:

The film begins, of course, with a fairly strange poem. Let’s suppose we haven’t analysed to the point of analytical self destruction, and assume this poem’s a load of old Willy Shake’s (now don’t jump the gun you rabid sheep humping porn lovers – that’s William Shakespeare informally) hut hmm, old Willy Shake’s archaic tosh.

It’s standard.

So there’s these two badass families that are utterly minted – yep, they’re rolling in it. The idea is they hate each others asses, and the storyline is: they beat the shit out of each other whenever and wherever possible, so a few centuries later intellectuals like you and I can shove this all in new edition books and call it highbrow literature.

            There’s the first bunch: sulking wimp Romeo, who’s completely besotted with this other girl (assuming he’s not met Juliet yet) so that just makes him a whining slut boy. Then there’s his dude friend Mercutio, some Jerry Springer character called Benvolio, a bunch of servants and the old hairy parent generation that no one really gives a monkey’s about. The other nasty lot are the Capulets, of which no one distinct comes to mind except that Tybalt character who just pisses the audience off. And Juliet. She’s the Elizabethan answer to Jordan . Sorry ladyviewers, this one’s written from the depth of Willy’s yearning for sexual fulfilment, so expect material aimed at the male audience. (Unless you rather fancy the *cough* heartthrob Romie) – but have some console in the fact that some poor skinny prepubescent bugger probably pulled it off as Juliet in the first performances of this epic.

            I’ve already summarised the storyline as a bunch of bratty twenty-somethings running around ripping each other new ass-holes, but alas, my analytical comrades, there’s more! Baz Lerman’s version features a cross dressing Mercutio, a must see for all… well, cross dressers. Pick up some tips, eh? Then you’ve got some great skirmishes going on – with the entire Veronan populace joining in with brawling (so that’s about 7 of them) – and you thought Lord of the Rings demonstrates breathtaking computer generated militaristic imagery!

            Then some people snuff it, which is always quite fun too. Mercutio obviously possesses no further significance to the story line after his rather exuberant feminine flamenco fiasco, and conks it. Romeo’s obviously pissed of by this cause he butchers Tybalt. There’s complex relationship issues with Romeo and the Jordan bird concerning balconies, swimming pools and bed sheets. There’s the famous parting scene – a hasty pick up after some steamy bonking. Nice. Then there’s a mess up with the local drug dealer, who (like most of the stoned buggers) gives Rom way too much white powder, or needles or something, and the snivelly little snotball  thinks Jordan’s dead. But Jordan ’s not dead, dammit, and at this point let’s remark on the fact “ Jordan ” is such a masculine name. That must be the reason Romie wants to kill himself – Juliet is a man. But she/he’s not dead, stupid noggin, since there’s all these complications with the messenger and his mule. That’s right, William, blame it on the mule – a great well thought out plot, mate, now that’s why you’re the greatest master of literature the world has ever known because the entire story works on the principals that mules are ugly long eared creatures who waddle very slowly and don’t deliver messages on time. Stuff the star-crossed lovers, the real moral to be learned here is never trust the mules.

            So Willy messes the audience about here, people die and und-die then they find out the other one’s dead, so they die anyway, and that’s pretty much the most tragic, heart wrenching, beautiful tale ever written.

            I now hope you’ll go and see it again and remark on stuff you haven’t already analysed to utter despair, causing yourself to spontaneously transform into a giant blob of the resultant substance in the process of egestion. Just remember the mules, my friends, and you’ll be alright.

Goodnight from Poland and its nice pleasant Poles,

Soffski Stamskov

P.S. Don’t despair. Macbeth rocks.

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