Set in 1960s Verona, this fast-paced new take on Romeo & Juliet reimagines Shakespeare’s classic as a thrilling, cinematic love story filled with passion, danger, and style. Directed by Benjamin Kilby-Henson and featuring Theo Dāvid and Phoebe McKellar in their ATC debuts, this striking production explores the many faces of love against a backdrop of fashion, faith, and fatal rivalry.
Auckland Theatre Company’s bold new staging of Romeo & Juliet, directed by Benjamin Kilby-Henson, launches Shakespeare’s most iconic love story into the glittering chaos of 1960s Italy; a world of rebellion, colour, lust, and inevitable loss. Reimagined as a high-octane thriller, this interpretation had the audience in hysterics through much of the first half, thanks to its riotous humour, confident pacing, and vividly drawn characters. But for all its flair, the production cannot escape the weight of the tragedy at its core, and by the final act, the tonal imbalance becomes difficult to ignore.
From the outset, Kilby-Henson sets a different tone. Rather than beginning with the street brawls of Montagues and Capulets, the production opens on a somber note;Juliet’s tomb soliloquy delivered in near isolation, a haunting prologue that warns us of what’s to come. Death is not just a looming threat here; she is personified and ever-present. Played with unsettling charisma and operatic drama by Amanda Tito, Death becomes a physical part of the world; a figure that flits among scenes, watching, influencing, and at times appearing to orchestrate the fate of the characters with a theatrical wink.
What follows is a whirlwind of rapid scene changes, layered projections, and a soundscape that propels the story forward with the urgency of a suspense film. The pace is relentless. The language remains Shakespearean, but it’s delivered with a distinctly Kiwi rhythm, grounding the characters in a more modern emotional reality. Hearing the text spoken in strong New Zealand accents initially feels unexpected, but quickly becomes part of the production’s charm, adding a rough edge to a polished world.
Set and costume design work overtime to support the reimagining. Daniella Salazar’s wardrobe paints Verona in bold prints and mod silhouettes. It’s a visual feast, with every character draped in carefully considered fabrics that reflect their emotional temperature and social standing. The set, designed by Dan Williams, is spare yet versatile, playing host to parties, duels, intimate moments, and death scenes with minimal changes, often relying on lighting shifts and props to suggest new settings. A pool table becomes Juliet’s bed, wedding stage and tomb, a trolley becomes her balcony, and candles appear in multiple scenes with shifting symbolism. At times this reuse is clever and symbolic; at others, it feels unnecessarily abstract.
Theo Dāvid’s Romeo is all heart and impulsive charm. Dāvid, known to television audiences from Shortland Street, brings youthful energy and sincerity to the role, bounding across the stage with wide-eyed optimism and romantic urgency. His Romeo is not the brooding, melancholic lover seen in more traditional renditions, but a modern young man overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings. Opposite him, Phoebe McKellar’s Juliet is poised and present, though at times her performance lacks the emotional nuance needed to carry the more tragic beats of the role. She shines in her lighter scenes, but the weight of the final act feels more forced than felt.
Among the ensemble, several performances stand out. Courtney Eggleton as the Nurse is an absolute highlight; her comedic timing razor-sharp, her physicality bold and expressive. She manages to ground the chaos with a warm, deeply human presence, often bringing the audience to laughter with just a look or an exasperated sigh, though she does threaten to steal the limelight from our leads. Ryan Carter as Mercutio takes time to settle, but eventually unleashes a fiery, provocative energy that suits the production’s tone perfectly. His speech is transformed into a feverish tirade, complete with flirtation, frenzy, and explosive gestures. Miriama McDowell’s Friar is recast with maternal strength; no longer a neutral religious figure but a protective, almost parental presence in Romeo’s life. It’s a reinterpretation that works, though it does shift some of the story’s internal logic.
This willingness to rewrite relationships is both a strength and a limitation of the show. By eliminating or changing certain plot points; Friar John is notably missing, and Benvolio dies mid-play, only to reappear later; the production leans into a surreal, dreamlike atmosphere. Scenes bleed into one another, with actors remaining on stage after their scene, even after their character’s death. While this creates striking visual moments, it risks confusing the narrative. Audience members unfamiliar with the original text may find themselves scrambling to keep track of who is alive, who is dead, and why certain events unfold as they do.
Despite these choices, the first half is an undeniable success. The audience is swept up in the show’s verve, its innuendo, and its daring reinterpretation of the text. There are moments of brief nudity, a playful embrace of same-sex attraction, and constant flirtation woven into the staging. It’s cheeky and alive, and for a while it feels as if this production might succeed in turning the tragedy into a celebration of love in all its messy, passionate forms.
But as the second act begins, the tonal shift is stark. The pace slows, the humour fades, and the shadow of Death looms larger. What was once electrifying becomes ponderous. The play’s commitment to the original ending (the double suicide, the grief, the collapse) feels somewhat at odds with the vivaciousness of the world built around it. The tragedy is inevitable, yes, but here it feels slightly out of place, like a different play has begun. The energy dissipates, and despite the strong cast and powerful design, the emotional payoff does not land with the weight it should.
Still, there is much to admire. Robin Kelly’s subtle and atmospheric sound design is paired beautifully with Rachel Marlow and Bradley Gledhill’s lighting, which helps orient the audience within time and space as the fast-moving story unfolds. Moments of quiet are punctuated with birdsong, echoes of church bells, or whispered breaths, each chosen with care. The production is technically sophisticated, and that craftsmanship underpins even its wilder creative risks.
ATC’s Romeo & Juliet is a production of contrasts: thrilling yet uneven, hilarious yet heartbreaking, joyful yet ultimately constrained by its own source material. It is a celebration of love, certainly, and of theatrical experimentation. The standing ovation on opening night was well deserved for the cast’s commitment and the production’s sheer ambition.
But as the final stage lights dimmed and the lovers lay still, there was a sense that something had been lost in the transition from comedy to catastrophe. The show gave us glitter, humour, and desire; but when it asked us to feel heartbreak, the laughter hadn’t quite cleared from the room.
Auckland Theatre Company' presents Romeo & Juliet at the ASB Waterfront Theatre from 15 July to 9 August 2025. You can purchase tickets here.