By Elise Jantz
Pistols crack. The scent of gunpowder floats through the air. Scarlet blood spurts out to stain our fearless leader, Professor Solomia Soroka, and we stand witness as Romeo murders Paris, then himself. Welcome to the Verona of the American Wild West!
Seeing Shakespeare in the Globe is an intensely immersive experience. The stage juts out into the circular theater, raised about five feet off the ground, where ‘groundlings’ such as ourselves lean against the sides to gaze up at the unfolding story. For over 500 years, the groundling tickets have been the cheapest seats (“We are peasants!” Solomia cheerfully reminds us), because there are no seats. Despite the aches that came with standing still for nearly three hours, I wouldn’t have it any other way. We hastily cleared a path for Romeo to hide among the audience while Mercutio and Benvolio searched for him, stood face-to-face with Mercutio as he lay dying at the front edge of the stage, and when Juliet rolled in on her raised platform we were at the center of the action, our eyes snapping back and forth like at a tennis match to watch the famous balcony scene.
At intermission, we sat on the ground, discussing what we’d seen. It was enticing to be so close, and we raved over the way Mercutio had almost kissed someone standing next to us in the front row and Juliet’s surprisingly fitting cowgirl personality, then debated which actors were most attractive (Mercutio, by majority vote, although I count myself among a strong minority for Romeo). Night fell in the open roof above us, and I became increasingly disturbed as the story wound towards useless death. It was an experience like no other to stand where people have for centuries and let the Globe pull us into another world.
Professor Solomia Soroka is splattered with Paris’s “blood”.
Arts-in-London students before the Romeo and Juliet show at the Globe.
