Teach me to forget

The Verona project, part XXI, Tromeo and Juliet

Mind, I was eager to see this, and annoyed when Netflix repeatedly denied it me, but I never would have imagined it as an appropriate finale to the project. In fact, though, it's among the handful of films among the 21 that I might ever choose to watch again. If you don't know Troma, I should explain that it's a low-budget studio dedicated to making the best gore/softcore shlock comedies around, and this is an apt example: plenty of squirm (let's see: fingers chopped off, at least one eye poked out, a head injury that leaves the skull exposed, an arm and later a head lopped off [same victim], and other assorted mayhem--not to mention an up-close-and-personal consensual piercing [only time I've ever seen a stunt nipple included in the credits]), plenty of flesh (including, surprisingly, a bit of genuine eros), and plenty of laughs (some of them convulsive--and some, of course, in response to the over-the-top violence).

Another surprise was the extent to which the film tracked R&J. Wouldn't want to overstate that, but much of the story is present, and occasionally they even break out a few apt lines from the play. All in all, a very pleasant surprise--and certainly one of the most fetching Juliets I've seen. Fetching: that's a word we should all use more often.

But let's face it: the project has not been remotely as successful as last winter's Elsinore Project. Hamlet is a better play, no question about that--but I wouldn't say it's an easier play to penetrate and present persuasively. I mean, come on: young love doomed by strife--should it be that tough? But with the single exception of the sublime balletic version, nothing I screened transported me, and I handed out more one-star Netflix ratings than I had given to all the films I'd rented in the 5½ previous years.

Without question, the best straight production of the play I saw was the obscure Joan Kemp-Welch-directed PBS version from 1976; easily the worst is William Woodman's wooden 1982 production.

Who (how old), when, how long? Will Keenan (?) and Jane Jensen (28), 1997, 1¾hrs.

What sort of R&J? He, a softcore Manhattan punk; she, a surprisingly well-adjusted victim of paternal terror.

Seriocomic scale for first scene? There's no direct equivalent, but the scene in which Murray (Mercutio) whacks two of Sammy Capulet's (no equivalent) fingers in a paper cutter is pretty droll; 5?

"Wherefore": do the filmmakers know what it means? No, and the line is delivered by Tromeo's father, Monty Que.

Carrion flies? No.

Body count? Well, two or three among the six who die in the play: Murray and Tyrone Capulet for sure, and London (get it? major European capital?) Arbuckle a defenestrated probable. There is no Mrs. Que, but if I tell you why, you'd probably guess the big surprise ending. Also, Cappy Capulet gets his fatal comeuppance, as does another Capulet henchman. I may be missing somebody, but you get the idea. The titular two survive to make babies in Jersey.

What (else) is missing? Oh, let's just . . .

What (else) is changed? . . . leave these . . .

What (else) is odd? . . . alone.

End-of-the-play exposition? Well, yes, but it improves on WS's in that it's not recapitulation (recapuletation?) of what you've already seen or heard. Though you're pretty dense if you haven't guessed.