One moment in the Auckland Theatre Company’s 2010 production of Romeo and Juliet

Juliet, her mother and her nurse have been discussing the prospect of Juliet marrying the eligible Paris. Juliet and her mother have been standing in front of an invisible mirror, studying their own and each other’s reflections. Lady Capulet in this production is a Russian trophy wife, wearing very high heels and a tight strapless dress, full of erotic appeal in a strong, defined way. Juliet, in a light, simple knee-high frock with thin straps, tries poses which emulate her mother’s, only more exaggerated and flowing - Juliet has a girlish, fanciful, daisy-chain-wearing way of carrying herself. She puts out her arms and her hands make graceful curlicues. As the nurse chatters away, Juliet’s mother stands behind her daughter and lifts her chin evaluatively, tucks her skirt up to look shorter, slips the girl’s shoulder straps off to see how she looks with bare shoulders. Her nurse helps Juliet put on red stilettos. At the end of the scene, Lady Capulet has left the room, and Nurse is waiting for Juliet as she stands in front of the mirror one last time before the party. “Come, Juliet, and seek happy nights to happy days!” she says, alluding to her impending planned marriage, since she has agreed to meet Paris tonight and hopefully fall in love with him. The music rises and Juliet, still staring at herself in the implied mirror, raises her arms, beautifully, and swivels her shoulders to begin a series of graceful turns towards the door, where she leans against the doorway for a moment, gazing into the audience, into the future, before exiting. She carries herself in a way which tells us: I know everything, I know nothing. And this is a girl who is about to fall in love; an iconic, legendary love. The potential for this intensity of passion lies in her, and we see it first in this scene, in her movements, her grace.