Romeo and Juliet

Lamos's Romeo and Juliet sneaks up on you. While his production is refreshingly gimmick-free, its presentational style and slightly uncomfortable Elizabethan trimmings (at first the Prince Valiant haircuts, billowy shirts and court-jester tights invoke more memories of Spamalot than a sense of the Old Globe) don't seethe with the white-hot passion or the blood-red intensity we associate with one of the most feverish stories ever written.

But then something happens. Coffey, whose cascading head of Shakespearean hair seems to be as vital to her work as a pair of tap shoes is to a Broadway hoofer, delivers one of Juliet's many speeches with both articulated poise and flushed-faced radiance so inconspicuously that you don't even realize you're listening to a famous soliloquy until she's almost finished. Then Steppenwolf's Reed, in a robust performance that will be talked about for quite some time, tears into the role of Juliet's nurse, playing her part mother hen, part drama queen, as if it were the greatest part the Bard ever penned. And, perhaps the most welcome surprise of all, Steve Hendrickson takes the brief scene in which Lord Capulet insists Juliet marry Paris instead of Romeo, and plays it with such violent, macho lightning that it makes us understand why some romance is best kept secret.

Though the production never really swoons as much as its titular lovers, these resonant performances, along with some smashing fight sequences, make it work just the same.—Christopher Piatt