Trouble remembering in which country Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers cross paths? Branagh’s panting paean to Fellini will sort you out. Stylish as a monochromatic Vogue spread, and as self-consciously Italian as Bruno Tonioli guzzling lasagne in a gondola, it’s not exactly a triumph of cultural nuance. Capulet is a sharp-suited mafia don who makes an affected entrance sipping espresso, the Prince is a fascist enforcer, al-fresco dining is interrupted by fiery gesticulation, and every loss is met with operatic wailing.
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- @mrCarlWoodward @TheDukesTheatre Congrats! 9 hours ago
- Hurrah twitter.com/exitthelemming… 13 hours ago
- @CazCronin Aha! That makes more sense. Also love how half of Twitter was all 'MORE GAY REPRESENTATION' and apparent… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 22 hours ago