Phillyist reviews... The Taming of the Shrew

Apologies, first and foremost, to the actor behind whom I walked in last night. I know how jarring and distracting that can be, and you looked rather frightened when the door opened. It was unforgivable and unprofessional of me. All I can say is that I was absolutely certain that the play started half an hour later than what the curtain time actually was. I promise that that won't happen when I return tomorrow for Othello.

Meanwhile, it actually doesn't appear as if I missed too much of the Philadelphia Shakespeare Festival's production of The Taming of the Shrew (I know the play quite well; I walked in while it was still early in Act I)—and that's a good thing, because this is absolutely a production not to be missed.

Take it from me: it's easy to do bad Shakespeare. God knows I've seen plenty. I've even been in a few such productions. Fortunately, "bad" Shakespeare doesn't seem to be a part of the Philly Shakes' vocabulary: I've found their performers to be consistently entertaining, their comprehension of the subject matter more than fluent, and their mastery of the language and meter admirable. It goes without saying that Shakespeare needs to be cut to be performed today (unless you want the audience to hate you before intermission, but this adaptation of Shrew was seamless. Where cuts were made (or where Shakespeare just assumed that his audience would figure out the events happening offstage), director Domenick Scudera fills in the gaps with inter-scene pantomime, helping the audience see who's happy, who's mad, and who's getting married. The energetic and fast-paced show came in at just over two hours, and felt even shorter.

All of the actors in Shrew deserve commendation, both for their work within the ensemble and for their work as solo performers as well. Teresa Castracane and Christie Parker both did excellent jobs performing the two roles (Katherine and Bianca, respectively) that most female Shakespearean performers would kill for; Tim Gross played Tranio's charm and loyalty to a "t;" Dan Higbee's Grumio and Jim Bergwall's Gremio had everyone in stitches; Brian Anthony Wilson was full of Hortensio's bluster without being too over-the-top. The real star performer in my mind, though, was Damon Bonetti: never have I seen a more perfect Petruchio. He was cocky and charming and arrogant and, even at his most ridiculous or masochistic, somehow consistently likable. It's not an easy contradiction to pull off, yet it was, and with aplomb. If Shrew were real life and I were Katherine, I, too, would eventually find myself swooning for Bonetti's Petruchio.

Sure, Shrew is problematic. Katherine's famous monologue in the play's final scene instructs women to be always mindful and obedient of their husbands, a notion that today amuses some but offends most—it's a big reason that Shrew is rarely performed on college campuses. But, as is often the case, once you're able to overlook the machismo inherent in a five-hundred-year-old play (try reading the work of some of Shakespeare's contemporaries sometime!), you might find yourself actually really enjoying the piece.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need to get back in the kitchen. I hear that's where I belong.