An editorial in Theatre Notebook spoke of ‘revelation’, The Observer of ‘revelation, even perhaps a revolution’, and Theatre World of excitement, ‘unity of presentation’, and a ‘reality which lifted one inescapably back to medieval Italy’. These are examples of the enthusiastic reception which has kept Franco Zeffirelli’s production of Romeo and Juliet in the repertory of a London or touring company of the Old Vic from 4 October 1960, into 1962, bringing them a greater success than they have enjoyed for more than a decade. Yet on the morning after its first-night, the critic of The Times spoke coldly of the performances, and in The Sunday Times Harold Hobson described a failure: to his disenchanted view, Romeo was ‘well-spoken’ but ‘pasty-faced and sulky’, Juliet flapped ‘her arms about like a demented marionette’. After its season in London these conflicting reactions seem less remarkable: it was a production of unique and consistent achievement which exchanged a number of conventional virtues for others which are not often found in our presentations of Shakespeare. And it was effected with such intelligence, sympathy and authority that we can now take stock and ask how important these unusual virtues are for this play and, perhaps, for others.