[In the following review, Smith praises the way in which Lindsay Posner's production of The Taming of the Shrew was not afraid to depict the play's dark elements, such as domestic violence. Additionally, Smith notes that the play's central problem remained unresolved, and that Sly's closing of the play made the ending seem “futile” and “empty.”]

The Taming of the Shrew, directed by Lindsay Posner for the RSC, The Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 23 December 1999, front stalls.

While Lindsay Posner's Shrew never sought to avoid the darker tones and the horror of domestic violence, it nonetheless, in its final scene, attempted to ingratiate itself romantically with its audience. This of course is an awkward balancing act and Posner, despite some interesting local readings never succeeded in resolving the central difficulties of this most awkward of comedies. One reason for this was the sheer brutality of Stuart McQuarrie's Petruchio. He assaulted, kicked, pinched and twisted the ears of his feeble servants. Having knocked Grumio to the ground in I.2, he set about stomping on him including a running kick between the legs. He roughly tousled the tailor's hair and towered threateningly over the haberdasher. Monica Dolan's diminutive Katherine was obviously no match for this violent presence and frequently he would simply pick her up and walk offstage with her over his shoulder.

The opening Induction was played in modern dress. Sly (also played by McQuarrie), a drunken Scottish reveller wearing a bomber jacket, jeans and trainers, was ejected from a night-club and lay prostrate as the hostess railed at him. Dragged off by the lords, he was wheeled back in a bubble bath and waited on by the servants. His sheer panic and his desperation for ‘a pot of small ale’ (Induction 2.1) which he downed in one as soon as he grasped it, were well conveyed and McQuarrie was an affectionate mixture of comedy and pathos. Having got out of the bath, he made his way to a luxurious study complete with desktop computer and logged on to a pornography site to do with sexual domination (a thoughtful updating of the First Lord's ‘wanton pictures’ (Induction 1.44))—the images on his monitor were projected on a large screen upstage. The Taming of the Shrew was part of this site and as he began to run the film, so the play proper began with Lucentio and Tranio (in full Renaissance costume) trotting on horseback towards the screen. As they arrived, they burst through a door in the middle of the screen and the performance began in earnest.

Much of the early part of the play was conducted (rightly) at a furious pace. There was plenty of slapstick and exaggeration in the acting styles. Shrew is a play that thrives on rapid activity and the mingling of accents and the filling of the entire stage with bustle seemed well placed. Dolan's Katherine was disappointing though. As Baptista and Petruchio secured the dowry arrangements, she fumed and squinted angrily but the response was cartoon-like and, in general, she lacked the capacity to portray the profound horror the character must be feeling. The decision to have her spit fully in her father's face as she flounced out was too easy. Again, as Petruchio entered for the wedding in a long red dress (Grumio backed him in a corset and long purple skirt), she stood, her eyes screwed up with fury but really only had one expression which was used yet again during the exchanges over the sun and the moon. However, as she suffered the starvation and deprivation of Petruchio's household, she visibly faded and seemed about to faint. Only here did she really succeed in soliciting our empathy.

The first half ended with Petruchio's soliloquy in which he challenges us to provide him with a better method of subjugating his wife: ‘He that knows better how to tame a shrew, / Now let him speak; ‘tis charity to show’ (IV.1.197-8). Following the delivery of these lines he coolly looked round the audience (on all three levels) and, being greeted with silence, smiled smugly and exited. This arrogance reappeared during the final banquet scene. As Katherine entered, following the wager, pushing before her Bianca and the Widow, Petruchio in a cocky gesture, looked at his wine and slurped it before gargling and swallowing ostentatiously. Nobody could say a word until he was ready. The fact that this Petruchio was so unsympathetic made Katherine's crucial set-piece on wifely obedience seem like just another bit of brainwashing. It was therefore totally at odds with the production that, at its conclusion, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him passionately before he carried her off to bed. Charlotte Randle's Bianca was distinctly unimpressed and tossed her drink back defiantly in a mock toast to her husband.

There were several notable supporting roles. Colin McCormack was a fruity First Lord, patting the buttocks of his exiting butler. He doubled as an exasperated Baptista—less patriarchal bully and more hen-pecked father. Louis Hilyer's Tranio was refreshingly down-to-earth while Ryan Pope's impish Biondello was brassy and insolent despite being almost continually on the end of somebody's boot.

The closing frame found Sly back on the streets being mocked by two office girls from the Christmas party (with crowns of tinsel). As Sly resolved to go home and see to his wife, he pointlessly flicked them a V sign—they had already exited. He stumbled drunkenly off stage and the production closed. There was something futile and empty about such a perfunctory ending.