An Ageing Tale, Finally Interrogated: 'The Taming of the Shrew' at the Globe, Explained

If one were to walk into Shakespeare’s distinguished Globe Theatre with no clue about what The Taming of the Shrew is all about, the comically large, white teddy bear with a goofy grin and outstretched arms straddling the stage would almost certainly leave one somehow more at odds than upon entry. Nothing to be taken aback by, though, given that recent comedies at the Globe have been characteristically odd, shooting off beautifully bizarre fireworks of eccentricity, glee, and roaring queerness through the open roof into the London sky.

I expected this production to follow the same vein; yet still, as I had once seen a touring adaptation a few years earlier that sadly fell short in pushing its lazy “modern” message, I went in wondering how this dated, patriarchal plot could be jazzed up with prismatic tights and a quirky set.

The company of The Taming of the Shrew. Photography by Ellie Kurttz and Helen Murray

The Taming of the Shrew follows a father to two daughters, Bianca and Katharina (anyone familiar with the cult classic 10 Things I Hate About You may be twitching at these names, and you would be right to) the former quaint, sweet, and agreeable, the latter headstrong, witty, and generally off putting to the male species. The men in the play all pine predictably and hopelessly for Bianca while scorning her souring sister, until the cavalier Petruchio (think Heath Ledger’s Patrick) for want of fortune in the form of her sizeable dowry, decides, in no gentler terms, to tame her. 

Despite being one of Shakespeare’s comedies, the themes and content are distressing at best, Katharina under Petruchio is subject to cruelty worthy of one of the Bard’s tragedies, being starved, publically humiliated, and verbally abused until finally she submits to playing the part of an affable wife. Knowing this, and seeing the faintly ridiculous plush set, I began to worry. I put my fears aside however to focus on enjoying the play, which painted on layers of eccentricity and amusement so well that just when I thought no skit or gag could make me laugh harder than the last, every whacky slapstick fight, trip off-stage to meddle with the audience, or new addition to the plethora of prancing puppets continually proved me wrong.

The company of The Taming of the Shrew. Photography by Ellie Kurttz and Helen Murray

So hysterical was the acting – in both line delivery and physicality – that it was easy to forget that the thematic undercurrents driving this story are less than comedic to the modern sensibilities of today’s audiences. It would have been a simple escape for the company to simply chalk the play's problematic nature up to the time period, accept its mislabel as a “comedy”, and perform it purely as such. But director Jude Christian did not settle for this flat, bygone interpretation. 

The play within a play archetype is not unfamiliar to anyone well acquainted with Shakespeare, and Christian utilises this technique from the original text excellently. We begin the performance with the actors being assigned their roles, introducing the characters of The Taming of the Shrew to us in turn. Upon realising that they are one player short of completion, they invite a young woman (Thalissa Teixeira) to join them from the audience; they hand her the slip detailing the shrewish character she will be embodying and sweep her backstage to exchange her jeans and jumper for a lavish, turquoise, silk dress that she does not quite take a shining to. 

The company of The Taming of the Shrew performing within the audience of Groundlings. Photography by Ellie Kurttz and Helen Murray

As Katharina moves through the dialogues, she presents a discordance from the rest of the characters that catches you out as you find yourself immersed in – and enjoying – the scheming exploits meant to break her down. At one point, she pleads with the audience to see through the glittering, farcical casing of the marionettes and mirth, to the gritty husk of her suffering at the hands of men. As the play progresses, there is a swelling tension between both the audience and characters, and amongst the characters themselves, as gradually – like a series of lights being switched on in tandem – everyone in the theatre feels a chilly awareness of the cruelty of Petruchio and the complicity of the participating cast, and us as watchers, in this emotional violence. 

It did not take long after, before we began to watch the foundations of the play-within-the-play collapse in real-time, as the night got darker and (perfectly timed in my case) rain began drizzling woefully through the roof. When, at last, the action ground to a halt at the finale, the penitent atmosphere in The Globe was palpable, heads hung and breathing suspended as Katharina finally lost all edge and submitted to the will of Petruchio. The cast of our fictional play, especially Gremio (Nigel Barratt), Katharina’s father, looked on in silent shock and nausea at the outcome their whims had led to. This grim mood of abetment clashed dissonantly with the plush and showy costumes and set that had initially provided unbounded jollity; the excessive rosiness of the cast’s cheeks made their downcast expressions all the more poignant.

The company of The Taming of the Shrew. Photography by Ellie Kurttz and Helen Murray

After hundreds of years of study and performance, it is not often that Shakespeare retains the ability to surprise you. The Globe’s The Taming of the Shrew however, captures attentions, floats them along on an ocean of hilarity, and then at its crux, hurls them overboard to flounder in the icy waters of its message. To be able to entertain, surprise, and impose a moral lesson on a 21st-century audience with a 16th-century work is a feat rarely seen executed with such success, and to be done with such vivacity and soul is further testament to this production’s excellence.

The Taming of the Shrew played at the Globe Theatre as part of its Summer 2024 season.