After Fall, Winter

This is another take on "Romeo and Juliet". Prokofiev did it as ballet. Bernstein did it as musical. Zeffirelli and Luhrmann did it as movies. Tim van Dammen has filmed it as New Zealand rock opera.

Gypsy curse, very Shakespeare. Sharp combinations of alternating poignant tenderness and cynical exploitation, very Globe Theatre. Pixie-faced Lizzie Brochere with the huge eyes, very Juliet. So where are the warring families, the Montagues and Capulets? They are America and France, different ways of seeing life. They are the English language and the French language, different ways of expressing life. And they don't need to be anywhere out there, because they are inside us. From the moment of our conception, from the moment of our birth, we start accumulating individuality and baggage, individuality and baggage that are going to make love impossible - or at the very least, difficult. We are all star-cross'd lovers.

The problem with living more than four hundred years after Romeo first delivered the line: "If I profane with my unworthiest hand..." is how to make a doomed love credible, how to make us the audience care about the lovers and what they feel and what happens to them, and how to make it all look original, how to make it look archetypal but at the same time new. This film succeeds.