Love me do The timeless tale of Romeo and Juliet at URI BY BILL RODRIGUEZ

How odd that Romeo and Juliet has been staged around here far less often than other Shakespeare works. It got plenty of what used to spell commercial appeal on the silver screen, including sex and violence. Have Rhode Islanders gotten too jaded and sophisticated to appreciate old-fashioned romance, edgy darkness or not? A terrific production by URI Theatre (through December 11) demonstrates not only that the romantic classic is alive and well, but also that a talented college cast in seasoned directorial hands can bring the period tragedy, archaic diction and all, to vivid life.

In addition to director Peter Sampieri, the rest of the behind-the-scenes expertise pulls together to seamless effect: the polished scenic design by Cheryl deWardener, with the rooftops of Verona popping out of the background; the clever costuming by Marilyn Salvatore, with 19th-century upper-class finery of the American West, from top hats to floor-length skirts, decorating a milieu where tempers are hot and daily duels are fought with swords instead of six-shooters; and mood-guiding lighting and sound design by Christian Wittwer and Peter E. Nabut, respectively.

The fight choreography by Norman Beauregard might very well wreck the seating in URI’s Robert E. Will Theatre, as white-knuckled audiences grip their armrests. The swordplay is as hard-clashing as in any pirate movie (Beauregard has choreographed more than his share of them) and as intricate and varied as a modern dance performance.

That energy is of a piece with how Sampieri has gotten these young actors to intensely physicalize their roles. As befits the fury swirling around the feuding Montagues and Capulets, the characters are as animated as the emotional give-and-takes. An extreme but representative example is how Joe Kidawski handles Mercutio, Romeo’s mercurial and irascible friend, whose death in a duel detours events toward tragedy. Shakespeare wrote Mercutio’s early Queen Mab fairy fantasy as starting in antic humor and building to out-of-control hysteria that Romeo has to calm down. Kidawski later rides those manic and depressive waves skillfully, establishing a brooding background to Merutio so that he can understate the despair of the character when he receives his fatal wound from Juliet’s grim cousin Tybalt (Dan DaCunha).

The chemistry is good between this Romeo (Joe Short) and Juliet (Jillian Blevins). Short certainly holds the stage, providing a resoluteness of character that’s needed in playing a fickle young man who the day before was in love with another young beauty. The role of Juliet is more substantial — ironic for a 13-year-old — since she goes through more changes, as her father (John Messere) insists she must marry Count Paris (Patrick Poole). Blevins is riveting as the star-crossed lover, whether in joyful mode or lamenting. In the balcony scene before Juliet is aware that Romeo is listening, we hang on her every word as we watch conflicting emotions pull her this way and that.

There’s a good mix of genders among the squabbling houses, with even Romeo’s close friend Benvolio played by a woman (Randi Buchanan). The supporting cast is first-rate in every prominent role. As Juliet’s nurse, Erin Olson effortlessly handles the stretch from a jolly, joking companion to a furious protector who grabs Romeo’s shirt front as she badgers him to do the right thing. The director works nicely with the playwright to coax opportunities for humor out of the text.

Jordan Eastwood plays Friar Lawrence as not only helpful but also thoughtful: we better understand his going to outrageous lengths to help the couple because one moment the friar dismisses Romeo as childishly fickle and the next we see him inspired by the idea that a marriage can unite the two feuding families. Proper gravitas is given to the angry, law-giving Prince of Verona by Geoff Leatham, who is older than the students in the cast.

Like a soap opera or a writer who wants to extend a storyline through a season, Shakespeare stretches out the last half of the tale. (To maximize the emotional peak, the intermission interrupts a climactic scene, leaving Romeo to mourn the death of Mercutio and build his rage toward Tybalt while we sip Cokes.) But since even the first Elizabethan audience knew from the prologue that the young lovers would die, the story doesn’t so much offer suspense as provide time and opportunity to ponder consequences. URI Theatre makes that time go by quite rewardingly.