The Words and Images of Romeo and Juliet and The Genius of Baz Luhrmann.

Baz Luhrmann made an interesting choice when he transported the classic story of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet to a modern setting yet kept the original language. I'm glad he stuck to the old script - reading the play has made me appreciate the beauty of Shakespeare's words so much more. I wasn't sure that it would work with a modern setting when I was first told about the movie, but walking away from it I realized that the themes of this story are still present and will always exist, and it turned out I had barely any trouble interpreting and understanding the story at all, regardless of the old-fashioned language. So was it necessary for Luhrmann to change put the story in a current setting? If I had seen this in its original state, time period and costumes intact, would I have understood it as well?

Baz Luhrmann's directing style is very distinct - you could watch two of his movies, Moulin Rouge and Romeo + Juliet, and immediately be able to identify the intense visual aspects that they have in common: fast, choppy cutting, overly-saturated colors, an overall energetic and dizzying way of presenting a story. Even without watching his film interpretation of R+J, by just reading the play you can see the importance of images, settings, and personalities and the way they add a subtle, deeper meaning to the story. Baz does something very smart by utilizing these powerful bits of the story and amplifying them by making them much more obvious to the viewer and putting a modern twist on them.

R+J is not only a play, it's a work of art - in the literal sense, too. It's not enough to just read about it, but you have to see the play to experience the subtle imagery of the two houses, the warlike allusions they sprinkle throughout the story, and just the all-powerful image of the two authoritative, violent, passionate houses. The entire story is based upon image: the beauty of Juliet, the grandeur of the lives they live, and the general basis of teenage love in this story, which "lies not in their hearts, but in their eyes". This story was written for the stage; it was written for people to look at and experience. Shakespeare's other plays seem to include this intense imagery as well: the powerful image of the African king Othello, the ghost of Hamlet's father and Ophelia's fateful beauty, the fanciful and imaginative characters of A Midsummer Night's Dream. It's all visuals.

It's pretty clear why BL wanted to put this story in present time - to make it more appealing to the masses and give a classic story a new twist. But it's the images he uses that really set this movie apart from other film interpretations. The close-ups of the Montague's cowboy boots in the very first fight scene, the "Wherefore L'Amour" sign that he shows in several scenes, the costumes that R and J wear at the party (Juliet as an angel, Romeo as a knight. Could you make it any more obvious, Baz?) He takes Shakespeare's images and uses them to create a passionate, romantic film while still sticking to not only the script, but the way that Shakespeare writes. In his little behind-the-scenes sheet, he even says "Martin and costume designer Kym Barrett drew on all sorts of imagery, giving completely different looks to the Capulets and the Montagues. The Capulets became Hispanic, adorned with very Catholic cultural icons. For the Montagues they wanted something far more Anglo; hence the "GI Joe" imagery" of the Hawaiian shirts. With such distinctly different wardrobes the two opposing gangs become easy to understand and follow". Isn't this exactly what I was talking about?

Now, I'm not going to pretend that I know much about Shakespeare. I'm not a drama student, but I'm an art student, which gives me an eye for visual details in film like color or camera angles. And Baz Luhrmann's film gave me a whole new idea and perspective on this play - that just as much as clever and beautiful writing, the story contains subtle images that make it especially intense, and BL uses those images to create a movie that is truly a work of art which both gives credit to Shakespeare's gorgeous words and includes smart, thoughtful, and modern images that symbolize thought-provoking deeper meanings throughout the story.

The Allure of Pictures and The Printed Word.

Capacity by Theo Ellsworth is by far the most beautiful book I have held in my hands, read, looked at, pondered, understood, not understood. A squarish, thick graphic novel that I stumbled upon in my favorite comic book store. Looks like any other little-known, arty book in the store. Upon closer inspection, the pages contain a marvel in the world graphic novels. Capacity. A freakish, fantastic world illustrated in back-and-white pen drawings, meticulously detailed, each square inch of intertwined, cross-hatched flat space a world in itself. An audacious attempt to illustrate the images that appear so frequently in the author's head. Characters banter mischievously throughout the pages of the book, among the myriad of dots and dashes that come together to form a congested mass of wildly imaginative scenery and action. Hand-written words that are so natural you can tell they just came out of someone's notebook. It's not condescending; it's simple. Language that has earned plaudits from journalists, writers and artists alike. You could spend hours deciphering one of the pictures, the beautiful universes that muddle together into an image that looks like a winding, lopsided dream. The book begins with a strange, robotic illustration, also featured on the cover, that the author describes as "the reader". You are immediately placed (gently) into this story as a creature that fits in, so when the giant, ever-changing friendly beast places you on the chair he has so thoughtfully strapped to his antlered head, you don't feel so strange. The author does what many seem to forget - he makes you a character in the tale, and frequently interrupts the story to apologize for the strangeness, saying things like "Oh, by the way, are you still doing okay? Thanks for sticking with me through all of this! Here, have some more imaginary tea!" The author presents himself as someone who is hospitable, friendly, and perfectly human. We grow to like the author. This is really what sets Capacity apart from other books of its kind. You are not merely thrown into the world of fantastic creatures, mysterious cities, dark streets, and cryptic wizards offering you magic glasses. You are told the author's story in such a way that you forget about the insanity. He switches on and off from telling the true stories of his abandoned projects and his experiences of living out of a car. He then goes back to his dream-like histories, a welcome break from his somewhat lonely and obsessive life. The book is a like a Russian doll, a story inside a story inside a story. You would be confused if not for the author's frequent check-ups.

I was trying to pick a book out at Bergen Street Comics that day. This was before I had laid eyes on Theo Ellsworth's book. There was one I'd been eyeing for a while, a beautifully illustrated, wordless hardcover called Weathercraft. But, as I always do, I decided I would keep looking for a bit before making a big decision. I was a little bit put off by the fact that there was no dialogue or narrative in the book. While the illustrations were stunning, the experience of "reading" the book was like being

blindfolded, then dropped out of a plane and into a forest where there's lots of squirrels and stuff. You can sort of get a gist of what's happening by piecing together what little information you gather from your surroundings, but there's really nothing there to relieve your maddening curiosity and awkward misplacement. Capacity has a certain allure because of its conversation-like narratives and totally unpretentious descriptions, with an equally amazing supply of intriguing pictures. Sorry if I'm over-using corny analogies, but reading Capacity is like eating a chocolate bar with nuts in it or something else kind of chunky. Every bite of chocolaty sweetness is broken by a textural freakout of something else. A perfect balance and equilibrium between chocolate and nuts, words and pictures. Both are deliciously enjoyable, and this is what makes Capacity an incredible book.