Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Minna Gillett

Associate Direction by Marina Funcasta

Tickets from £8.00

The Taming of the Shrew holds a peculiar reappearing position amongst full-blown productions and grassroots community theatre. Odd, given the bleak finale and grinding boot of submission this play entrenches itself. It’s a tale in which the titular ‘shrew’, Katherina, is gas-lit, abused, and berated into subordination in a deeply morose and unpleasant stain on Shakespeare’s collective. It all stems from her father’s ambition to see the argumentative and uncontrollable daughter wed, refusing others in the household to marry until Katherina does so herself.

Attempts to alter the comedy by stripping out the misogyny often lead it to fall flat, thriller-inspired attempts at magnifying the atrocious behaviour often work, and strict re-tellings usually find a few raised eyebrows and uncomfortable seat-shifters. This isn’t the Edinburgh University Shakespeare Company’s first go at the show though – not by a long shot, but it does succeed in areas most would only dream of.

Though it isn’t an entirely re-gendered production, a canny move from director Minna Gillett (with associate direction from Marina Funcasta), emboldens and reinforces the choices made without watering out the impact. For a story that, admittedly, modern audiences often find tough to stomach, the Edinburgh University Shakespeare Company are off to a commendable and impressive start. And really, it only gets better.

Taming of the Shrew has unquestionably been crafted by those with a firm comprehension of Shakespeare’s style as a poetic playwright who wove words with a near-spoken-word quality. Gillett and Funcasta direct the production with a rhythmic sense of clarity, with plenty of chaotic energy to enhance some of the more obstinate (and frankly, droning) moments, lifting them higher than many directors manage to do. Alexander Levin turns the brutish Baptista Minola into a smash-hit performance of the evening, taught and rigorous in comedic delivery, enunciating to the letter in flowing language, and even with flashes of the character’s more traditional rage played for laughter. 

It isn’t carried through to all players on the stage, and really, the only notable shortcoming is the reluctant commitment to going all out with the comedy, though the reservations to do so are perfectly understandable – too much one-way, and there’s a risk of ending arse first in that fancy swimming pool the play themes itself around. It does occasionally lead to some indistinguishable line deliveries through a combination of lowered projection, but for a fast-paced production renowned for its considerable girth and length, the team do a rather sensational job at making so much of the comedy and the ludicrous characters effective and authentic in delivery.

A mixture of sharp direction, and the understanding of their player’s strengths and potential shortcomings, Taming of the Shrew benefits from some of the societies most entuned and emotive performers, Maria Wollgast’s gender-swapped Petruchia has a cacophony of (self-induced) woe, energy, and a few too many spritzers maintain an erratic and powerful leading presence to joust with Ted Ackery’s petulant Christian (affectionately called “Kit” after Katherina). Sullen with the attitude suitable for a rich and inconsiderate chap from well-to-do means. Ackery and Wollgast are capable leads for others to circle and tie together the shows gender-swapping neatly.

In swapping genders and tackling the source materials, where unbalanced and problematic depictions of comedy collide with a deep misogyny rooted in the narrative, this new take is sobering. By restructuring the play, removing outdated elements but maintaining the core structure, Gillett’s production offers a sobering realisation of just how much undertext is available once authors and creatives move past the (seemingly) unscalable boundary of gender. It enables some terrifically over-the-top performances to tackle gross wealth and status from Ali Lakhany, Mia Clayton, and Gorrav Bains performances, with special mention to Fraser Murray’s Bambi-through-Hollister Tranio a foppish, and endearing charm – especially when paired with their master Lucentio, dripped in so much eighties nostalgia by Eric Parker that it borders on vintage. 

Decked in a pristinely organised and sourced costume design from Izzy Hodgson continue the aesthetical nature of the show perfectly – as we shift into the exuberant wealth and luxury of Northern Italy, soaked in the credit-rich material lustre of the eighties. Émilie Noël adds that final flourish for the set, boldly painted by Matilda Bull and Ruby May with striking, though still muted palettes to offer some sunshine, and just enough to reflect the chaos and confusion of the onstage antics. All brought to life with some quick prop and furniture changes (with stagehands dressed as resort staff) and an Italo disco soundtrack to set the mood nicely. 

Even those who may not have the most investable of time on the stage make each moment their own; Eliana Kiakide’s Hortensia, and a hilarious turn from Anna Yarwood’s Grumia all shine out amidst the large cast, deserving of their applause and commendation for carrying out these roles performing aside such strong characters, especially when bread-rolls are launched around the place. Gillett and Funcasta utilise a larger cast with tremendous understanding and gusto – knowing which avenues of aggression (such as Hugo Donnelly’s Vincentio) or comedy (Greta Abbey’s Bianca, Georgia Thomas and Aaron de Verés) to use at the precise moment. 

A bold production, which wields a sombre understanding and purpose with as deft a control of comedy, The Taming of the Shrew knows precisely what to adapt and alter to provide – not only a more tasteful but delightfully conceived production while even offering to maintain some of the production’s lesser performance elements. Performed and heralded by a creative team with a firm comprehension of the rhythmic nature of Shakespeare, but unafraid to re-structure the titans of British theatre for audiences, some may grow tired of the tale, but this shrewd production offers a renewed thirst for more of a similar ilk. 

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