Young actress masters Juliet in debut performance

If it is possible to escape high school without having read or seen "Romeo and Juliet," it certainly is impossible to escape Princeton without paying dues to the Bard's classic tragedy.

Despite the certain appeal of recent film versions to the teenage viewer's appetite, there is no replacement for seeing this classic text performed live — especially at a Tony award-winning theater that is a few minutes away.

McCarter Theater's season-opener is a slimmed-down version of the play that eschews superfluous distractions in favor of the dramatic conflict between youthful lovers blossoming in a society driven by hatred.

It marks the Shakespearean debut of director Emily Mann, who is now in her 11th season as McCarter's artistic director.

Mann distilled the script, leaving almost a third of Shakespeare's poetry on the cutting room floor.

Her staging and choreography similarly lack excess extravagance, as does Neil Patel's minimalist unit-set design.

The white, open playing area effectively adapts to the myriad locations the play demands. The set refuses to steal focus away from the actors, who lie at the heart of this production.

The cast that Mann has assembled includes exciting young and veteran talent. It is wonderful to see David Cromwell back on the McCarter stage again after his endearing performance as Sir Peter in last season's "The School for Scandal."

His misguided but kind at heart Friar Lawrence takes full advantage of his genius for comedic impulse and is a joy to watch.

Joe Wilson Jr. as Tybalt also stands out both for his strong command of the language and for his well-executed swordplay.

As the drama unfolds, the ensemble's acting strength serves to enhance the separation of Romeo and Juliet from the society determined to use them for their own purposes.

Juliet, played by an absolutely stunning Sarah Drew in her professional debut at age 20, faces grief piled upon grief, as bad news is continually delivered from those who closely surround her.

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Her isolation and pain escalate to the point when her father and mother threaten to disown her for her refusal to serve the familial interests of animosity and power before her own love's passion.

Drew's Juliet convinces us of the purity of her sexual awakening upon first glimpse of Romeo and in illustrating her own helplessness within the dysfunctional social climate that tries to force apart their attraction.

Her character's journey, particularly through the second half of the play, achieves a level of truth and desperation that draws the audience into an almost uncomfortable empathy for her final actions.

Jeffrey Carlson's portrayal of an older and more experienced Romeo, however, does not provoke similar feelings of sympathy and sadness.

Perhaps this is because Mann's edited script shows so little of the societal pressures placed upon him. Lord and Lady Montague appear just twice in the play, and the roles of Mercutio and Friar Lawrence have been drastically cut as well.

Perhaps it is because he appears to be closer to 21 than 16, causing his character to lose the youthful innocence that the exploration of a true love affair feeds off.

Whatever the case, when the situation explodes and his clumsy attempt to stop the fighting results in Mercutio's death, Romeo's assertion that he is "fortune's fool" comes across more as a statement of self-pity than as a moving cry of helpless despair.

Despite Romeo's few shortcomings, the production succeeds in honestly and humbly communicating Shakespeare's hopeless story.

But the result is almost too humble. The production lacks a specificity of concept that Mann's recent directorial efforts have boldly articulated, in favor of a more broadly traditional approach to this classic. In the past two years, she has directed Arthur Kopit's "BecauseHeCan" and Anton Chekhov's "The Cherry Orchard."

Through Mann's skillful use of period-neutral costumes, complex script editing, and sparse set design she ultimately creates a production that emphasizes the purity of a singular message.

The tragic prologue's claim is proved correct: that only the loss of their children could remove their parent's rage. And even that is uncertain.

At the end, Mann cuts the final "golden statue" lines that underscore the superficiality of the peace that is brought by these death.

However, her direction of the final tableau — with the fathers looking down in anger and the mothers clasping hands for support around the flowered bodies of their children — leaves no hope of closure.

It is indeed a gloomy peace.