Because everyone loves a good story
Ready for a deep dive into some themes from a cinematic masterpiece? I know I am. Call me nerdy, but this is the kind of stuff I get really excited to talk about. Join me, won’t you?
Last time we contrasted the dramatic forms of comedy and tragedy. If you were even semi-conscious in high school literature class, you probably remember which category the story of Romeo and Juliet falls into. Even though it’s a tragic tale, there’s still great benefit from studying the play and, yes, even a masterfully-directed film adaptation like Baz Luhrmann’s.
Two of the most pervasive motifs in this movie are religious icons and water. Today we’ll ask the question, “What kinds of religious imagery did Luhrmann use, and why on earth did he use them so much?” Later we’ll see how he uses water to highlight the ideas of strife, death, and peace.
So what are religious icons, and what’s a motif? Glad you asked. A religious icon is a picture or statue of someone like Jesus, Mary, or the saints. Some religions use these images in worship, so an icon is basically a focal point for religious devotion.
Now, a motif is a recurring idea that adds depth of meaning throughout a story. It keeps popping up—sometimes so subtly that you don’t even notice it—but when you think about it later, you realize that it was underlining the theme the whole time. In this movie, for example, the constant barrage of religious icons is a motif that highlights the role of the stars—or Fate—in the tale’s tragic trajectory.
The original story of Romeo and Juliet is set in Renaissance Verona—a hotspot for Catholic tradition. Luhrmann catapults the story into modern-day Italy, setting the film in late-1990’s Verona Beach. The city is much more secular, and religion isn’t overtly valued anymore, but religious vestiges remain.
And Luhrmann makes sure these remnants stand out. In fact, he crams every transition and clutters every scene with holy pictures, statues, shrines, and candles. The movie starts out with a view of the city, focusing on a giant statue of Jesus between the opposing skyscrapers of Capulet and Montague. Another looming statue features Mary overlooking the city. Much of the music is religious, too—a children’s church choir blesses the union of the young lovers, while “Requiem Aeternam” haunts the death of Mercutio. Even the title foregoes “and” in favor of “+” in the shape of a cross: Romeo + Juliet.
The characters themselves—especially the Capulets—also put a high value on religious icons. Juliet’s room features a shrine with dozens of saints and candles. At the foot of her bed is another collection of statues. Ironically, several of the characters’ pistols are adorned with pictures of Mary or Jesus, and some have little golden crosses dangling from the bottom. Tybalt’s vest is emblazoned with a gigantic picture of Jesus, and the priest has a massive cross tattooed on his back. None of this is remotely subtle.
And to make the religious motif as pointed as possible, Juliet attends her family’s costume party dressed as an angel, and Romeo arrives dressed in knight’s armor. When he gets a chance to speak to Juliet for the first time, Romeo kisses her hand and launches into an elaborate analogy of a pilgrim kissing a shrine at the end of his pilgrimage. I’m telling you—wherever Luhrmann could possibly squeeze in a religious image, he made sure to do it.
But why all the religious icons in every nook and cranny of the movie? Because Luhrmann recognized Shakespeare’s theme of fate. One of the major ideas of the play is that Romeo and Juliet are “star-crossed lovers.” Because they’re from warring families, their love was never meant to be. Even in Shakespeare’s day, some believed that the stars you’re born under have a direct influence on your destiny. Geminis shouldn’t marry Virgos, Aries should steer clear of Taurus, and Romeo should have left Juliet alone.
But Luhrmann didn’t interpret this as modern-day astrology and horoscopes. Instead, he interpreted Shakespeare’s fate, fortune, and stars as today’s religious saints. The one arranging matters behind the scenes isn’t an ancient Greek god or an astrological sign. Rather, God himself is Fortune.
We see this theme in several key lines. The prologue begins by telling us that Romeo and Juliet are “star-crossed lovers,” showing a torn picture of their wedding band over those same words. The camera immediately flashes to the statue of Jesus between the warring houses’ skyscrapers.
In a rapid montage of clips, the movie establishes the rampant violence and destruction between the families and intersperses close up shots of the Jesus and Mary statues. Those figures are just as prominent as the rest of the characters throughout the movie. So the stars—or the saints—are blamed for the eventual deaths of the young lovers right at the outset.
Romeo also blames fate for two more deaths that precede his own. After Tybalt kills Romeo’s friend Mercutio, Romeo is blinded by rage and a desire for revenge. He chases Tybalt to the center of the city, where Luhrmann shows Romeo shooting Tybalt in the heart repeatedly with Tybalt’s own gun. As Tybalt dies, his arms stretch out in the shape of a cross, and he falls backward at the foot of the towering Jesus statue. Romeo drops the gun, and the camera zooms in on a picture of Mary on the pistol’s grip.
As the weight of his actions sinks in, Romeo screams up at Jesus, “I am fortune’s fool!” He’s fortune’s toy or plaything. God and the saints have rigged events for his destruction, and he feels like a puppet in their hands. Despite his accusation, his only answer is a thunderclap and a downpour of rain.
For this murder, Romeo is banished to the dusty wasteland of Mantua where he waits to hear from the priest, who had promised to help reunite the newlyweds. Instead, his manservant arrives and informs Romeo that he’s just seen Juliet stretched out dead at her own funeral.
Romeo’s shock quickly turns to fury. He falls to his knees, turns his face to the sky, and screams, “Then I defy you, stars!” He will no longer be fortune’s plaything. He’s going to be with Juliet if it’s the last thing he does.
And, of course, it is. Romeo, enraged at being the puppet of fate, decides to end the game by ending his life. Next time we’ll see how Luhrmann styles this scene to bring his motif of religious icons to a resounding crescendo. You won’t want to miss it.
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