IMAGE: Samuel Taylor as Hortensio, Jay Whittaker as Petruchio, and Melisa Soledad Pereyra as Katherina. Photo by Michael Brosilow.
The Taming of the Shrew at the Court Theatre is the most innovative and engaging take on Shakespeare that Chicago audiences will see this season. Director Marti Lyons has set the bar for modern interpretations of the Bard’s most problematic plays, laying out a blueprint of meta-theatrical commentary which tackles the societal disgust for a drama dripping with misogyny. Without mincing words and without waiting for you to read further, Taming of the Shrew is a must-see for Shakespeare lovers, not to mention those who wonder if it is still worth producing his plays in today’s world.
The Taming of the Shrew is one of the more recognizable plays in Shakespeare’s canon (thanks in large part to the popularity of adaptations like the musical Kiss Me Kate and the movie Ten Things I Hate About You), but its plot centers on Petruchio (Jay Whittaker) and his “taming”—or abuse—of the proud and headstrong Katherina (Melisa Soledad Pereyra). Having traveled to Padua to secure a wife and, more importantly, her dowry, Petruchio sets his eyes on Katherina (Kate), the daughter of the immensely wealthy Baptista (Mark L. Montgomery). Upon arrival, Petruchio and his servant, Grumio (Alex Weisman), reunite with an old friend, Hortensio (Samuel Taylor), who warns him that Kate’s independence and wit make her ill-suited for marriage. This complication compounds the plot because Baptista has forbidden his younger daughter, Bianca (Netta Walker), from any betrothal before Kate is married and Bianca has several suitors vying for her attention. Lucentio (Nate Santana) and his manservant, Tranio (Ryder Dean McDaniel), hatch a scheme to switch identities so that Lucentio can act as Bianca’s tutor while Hortensio disguises himself as her music teacher. Another suitor, the older Gremio (Dexter Zollicoffer), also seeks Bianca’s hand in marriage and gets into a bidding war with Tranio (masquerading as Lucentio). Ultimately, Baptista decides that Tranio may marry Bianca once Katherina is married to Petruchio.
Once married, Petruchio treats Kate with increasingly gendered misanthropy as he works to disabuse her of her independence and agency. Petruchio enacts upon Kate a training regimen of harsh psychosexual debasement ripped directly from the pages of today’s manosphere playbooks comparing women to livestock in need of domestication. Kate’s expression of her gender is shaped according to the Shakespearean misogyny espoused by the men in his play and their hold on the social constructions of courtship, marriage, and sexuality. At each turn, Petruchio gaslights Kate by treating everything she says in the opposite—and performance follows suit. When Petruchio asks Kate to explain the light in the sky, she identifies it as the sun. Petruchio disagrees, telling her it is the moon, and the lighting darkens (design by Maximo Grano De Oro). Petruchio also denies her food, hammering home that her body is his property. And when she finally relents to his ridiculous requests, he covers her in cake—signaling his belittlement of her body as a mere confectionary delicacy meant solely for his consumption.
At the same time, the plan of Lucentio and Tranio to secure Bianca’s affections for the disguised Lucentio almost backfires when their scheme is uncovered. But she is taken enough with him and, upon having secured payment for her, Baptista agrees to their nuptials. At the wedding, Petruchio, Hortensio, and the newlywed Lucentio make a wager to determine whose wife is the best “trained.” Each of the women are sent for in succession—told that their husband requests their presence immediately—and only Kate obeys without resistance. Declared the winner, Petruchio gloats by promoting his methods and their obvious outcome. The game of marriage won; his shrew of a wife tamed.
Shakespeare scholars debate the play’s treatment of gender and whether its fierce misogyny reflects the sincerely held feelings of Elizabethan society or a satirical reframing of those sentiments designed to be instructive for the audience. Lyons’ direction makes clear that The Taming of the Shrew presents its female characters as puppets contorted by a sexist dramaturgy. But the brilliance of her direction (with production dramaturgy by Tanya Palmer) takes shape before the plot commences. Shakespeare opens the play with an induction scene which frames the entire performance as a “showing” for a fellow seeking distraction from his wife. In the Court Theatre’s interpretation, this scene is expanded into “The Shrew Experience,” a meta-theatrical layer placed on top of the performance involving five “guest” actors: Lord K (Montgomery), Lady K (Pereyra), Lord B (Santana), Lady B (Walker), and the aforementioned Chris Sly (McDaniel). The Shrew Experience crew follow the lead of their theatrical guide, played by Monica West, who shows them how to execute a stage slap and other choreographed violence. The Shrew Experience functions as a critical framework for the play à la Bertolt Brecht, piercing through the play’s most troubling sentiments. During the scene where Katherina is refused food at dinner, Petruchio throws his servants into chaos—another manifestation of his control over his household—eventually slapping the servant played by Lord K who, despite his readiness for a stage slap, receives Petruchio’s full palm across his face. His confused shock is visible and Lady B, who has been watching the scene, audibly gasps then mouths the words, “What the fuck?” to her theatrical guide. In slapping the non-actor Lord K, Petruchio pierces the Shakespearean façade and violently dismisses our feelings about his actions toward Kate and the misogynic masculinity he represents.
Lyons and the production team deserve high praise for their unambiguous treatment of The Taming of the Shrew as the product of a time when women’s agency was bounded by parameters held in place by men. The production’s powerful commentary about society’s enduring misogyny takes place in the meta-theatrical layer, bridging the historical gap between Shakespeare and ourselves. We must wrestle with Petruchio’s charmingly humorous affect and the monstrous acts he perpetrates against Kate. Whittaker perfectly melds a modern “rizz” with outmoded masculinity—becoming the character we love to hate. Pereyra’s Katherina is no wilting flower. She brilliantly blends Kate’s stalwart individuality into the palpable and resilient strength needed to endure Petruchio’s trials. And the ensemble cast floats between roles and layers of theatricality with incredible aplomb. Lucentio and Tranio’s relationship, as captured by Santana and McDaniel, takes on additional layers of sexual tension as their Shrew Experience characters share several moments of intimacy together. Alex Weisman brings wit and an expert timing to his delivery and physicality as Grumio and, later, as Lucentio’s father. Overall, the performances magnificently deliver on the brash and upfront characters so beloved by Shakespeare while filling all the cracks and crevices of the play with the minutia of their characters in the meta-theatrical layer, making for a truly spectacular experience where every place on stage drips with meaningfulness.
The Taming of the Shrew at the Court Theatre is highly recommended. Performances fun through December 14th and tickets can be purchased online at CourtTheatre.org or by calling the box office at (773) 753-4472.