Mercutio
I try to remember ...
oldest memory: we are in the park, blanket on the grass, Mom, Dad sitting, brothers rolling around,
is it Eden Park? or maybe we are in Boston, on the Commons? maybe I am 5, maybe I am 6
in the bandshell, ballet dancers
Later, Nutcrackers at Symphony Hall,
not an everyday place
back then, entering felt like an event
I mind-wander ...
random memory: sitting in the balcony, first row, leaning over the railing, orchestra level below,
more tiers above, a tall tall ceiling, we are dressed up, my mom, my cousin Kelley, my fidgety brothers,
dresses, sport coats, leather shoes ... there is a Swan Lake in there too
I looked forward to those nights, for the grandness of it all, and especially for the music
watching the orchestra in the pit, watching the pieces make that harmonious, hall-filling sound.
Yet the details of what happened on the stage have washed away, probably by all the Nutcrackers
and Swan Lakes since.
[It must have meant a lot to my mother. What did she give up to take all of us?]
I remember:
I am 13, in the 8th grade,
on a voluntary after school outing
with a small group of students
and Mrs. Williams, my music teacher.
Tonight we will see The Stuttgart Ballet
perform Romeo and Juliet
with music by Prokofief, a score I know
moderately well because of my mother.
We sit at orchestra level on the far left side,
but my line of sight is level with the dancers.
Something shifts.
It starts when Romeo, Mercutio, and their Montague crew
swagger into the busy street scene, energetic, rowdy.
It intensifies when the confrontation with the Capulets
breaks out into a stage-wide sword fight.
It solidifes during the ball, when the Capulet noblemen,
strong and slow and majestic, enter the hall
to Prokofief's heavy, dramatic Dance of the Knights,
low strings dragging the downbeat.
And then Mercutio's solo --
cocky, irreverent, joyfully showing off.
Romeo is passionate, handsome, dignified
(and what a leap)
but, for me, Mercutio is the star.
What was different about that night, that performance?
It was like other ballets I had seen -- except that band
of ballerinos, jostling and joshing, bounding
with energy demanding to be released -- they came from a different ballet,
one I hadn't seen before.
But the joshing and jostling, the bounding energy -- they were familiar,
something right out of boyhood:
playing war in the woods -- cowboys and indians, christians and romans;
wrestling on the turkish carpet, making up rules as we went along;
walloping those other guys until they went running, when the chestnuts fell in November;
sword fighting room to room with my brothers (epic until, inevitably, someone got hurt);
sitting in the grass, laughing, bumping, exaggerating, daring, plotting.
More stuff happens --
a tussle at the ball,
the balcony scene,
the secret marriage ...
And then trouble-seeking, tussle-making Tybalt corners Romeo at the carnival.
Although Romeo refuses to raise his sword to his newly acquired but secret in-law,
Mercutio leaps to defend his friend. Joyful even when angry,
as the two men engage, separate, and circle each other,
through his movements, Mercutio boasts, mocks, taunts, and amuses.
It's going so well,
but Romeo tries to pull Mercutio away
and then ...
and then Mercutio turns into Tybalt's thrusting blade
His vigor is ebbing, but not his lightness.
He jokes, he flirts, and he jaunts but with more and more effort.
It is a fatal wound.
A raging Romeo takes on Tybalt
no more swagger, no more bravado
powerful, hard, furious
there can be only one outcome
Romeo's revenge ends Act II
For me, that was the climax
We all know what happens in Act III
For me, that was the anticlimax
And years later, my memory of that act
is indistinct,
unlike the vividness of what came before.
Something shifted.
At 13, I didn't just see a reflection on stage
it was also a glimpse forward
although I couldn't yet say what I glimpsed
I left knowing that I wanted to be part of
that
A few years later, I worked at a garage
to pay for ballet lessons at the Conservatory