Romeo and Juliet | Updated and abridged

Regardless of whether you're madly in love, or frankly you've had enough of it this week, there's still something inherently appealing about the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet.

Squeezed into a running time of just one hour, the National Theatre’s interpretation sets a shortened version of the original text in a modern time. Occasionally we missed out on the edited dialogue (I could not help but pity the charismatic Mercutio, whose lengthy and elaborate monologue of Queen Mab and the fairies was cut rather cruelly short); however, this well-choreographed and dynamic production kept all the key scenes, succeeding in telling the story in an engaging and moving way.

Romeo Montague, initially besotted with an unseen Rosaline, is persuaded to attend a party hosted by Capulet, where his close friend Mercutio hopes Romeo will let his eye wander. Romeo, hoping that he will catch a glimpse of Rosaline, agrees, and the minimalist set is transformed into a vibrant party scene with streamers, lights, and balloons suspended from a netted canopy. Through a crowd of swirling and colourful costumes, Romeo catches sight of Juliet, instantly falls hopelessly in love with her – all feelings for Rosaline vanishing.

The young lover's first whispered meeting under the starry canopy seems all too brief, before Juliet is near-dragged away to be told that Romeo is the only son of her family’s worst enemy, Montague. Abruptly the conflict between houses stains the happy scene, and we start to notice the cultural differences between the two families. Juliet appears in a mixture of traditional Indian garments and 'noughties' neon, whilst Romeo’s local church features a gospel choir (complete with a rousing rendition of ‘O Happy Day’) led by Friar Lawrence’s female equivalent, Sister Lawrence, hinting at Romeo’s African roots. Though this difference is never directly addressed, the underlying clash of cultures provides an interesting context for the feud between houses, which Shakespeare leaves intentionally unexplained.

But the lovers prove us wrong, with Romeo swearing his love to Juliet as she sits on her balcony. The next morning the young lovers meet, and are secretly married by Sister Lawrence. It almost seems too good to be true when Mercutio and the love-struck Romeo come across Juliet’s fiery cousin Tybalt who’s ready to pick a fight. Never have I seen Tybalt played with such attitude – by a woman may I add – who’s knife to Mercutio’s chest sends blood-red rose petals flying across the stage. Chalk outlines drawn around the bodies of Mercutio and Tybalt turn the stage into a crime scene, and serve to remind the audience of the events which signal the beginning of the end.

With Romeo banished from Verona, and with her father planning her wedding to another man, Juliet desperately seeks the help of Sister Lawrence, who agrees to help her fake her death so that she can escape with Romeo. But in an unbearable twist he hears not of the plan but of her tragic death, and goes to see her body with a vial of deadly poison.

The ending was always going to be agonising, but I was horrified to see Juliet awake to witness Romeo take the poison. He realises that she lives, but it is too late – to her tormented cries he dies in her arms. Devastated, she takes her own life, and we are left wondering whether we should feel pained that they could never be together, or find some solace that in their deaths they proved that love could surpass the cultural and social boundaries imposed upon them. Leaving, we are asked: “What’s in a name? that which we call a rose/By any other name would smell as sweet” and we are left wondering if we can really answer it, hoping that in our modern world love can overcome such obstacles.