The Taming of the Shrew

John Cleese in The Taming of the Shrew?!!!

That was my reaction, too. But I couldn't resist tuning in, and boy was I glad I did. I enjoyed Richard Burton's version and considered it the definitive take on Petruchio -- until I saw Cleese's. Simply magnificent. That acid wit of his was the perfect tool for taming Kate. Highly recommended.

I saw this when first broadcast on PBS. I have no idea where you would find it now. It was a bit minimalist in its setting and staging, but that was part of the wonderful effect. I believe (and hope I am getting this right) that Jonathon Miller said the goal was to very much represent what an Elizabethan playgoer would have seen if they had been to an opening performance of Bill Shakespeare's plays. I seem to recall John Cleese saying that it came to him some time into rehearsals that this was the official BBC version for the next several decades and that he was shocked that he had stupidly missed that point until later and also shocked that he had that much responsibility. He ended up hiring a tutor to run lines with him so he could get every word with 100% accuracy.

I wish I could find it to see again.

This production does for The Shrew what Zeffirelli's "Romeo and Juliet" did for that play: it makes clear the central meaning of the piece. By stripping away the usual thigh-thwacking, twinkle-in-the-eye, campy, vaudevillian action usually associated with this work, wherein the headstrong Katherine is brought into submission by the charming rogue Petruchio, we are able to see clearly what Petruchio's approach is: he shows Katherine her own behavior in reflection. Petruchio is holding up the mirror for her, showing her that she is the prisoner of her own negative emotions. And who would take the time, make the effort to do such work, if they did not care for the person in question? This Katherine and Petruchio are not combatants, they are soul-mates defining their understanding of each other. At their first meeting it is clear that Kate has never had a man of such wit and character endure her raging, out of desire for her; and in the end we see that Katherine is not broken (the famous last speech), but that at last she has stopped thinking only of herself, and gained insight and compassion for others. I've seen a lot of versions of this play (including Burton & Taylor, Julia & Streep, & Singer & Olster), and this is the most adult, the most understanding, the most human. And the funniest.

If you want a slapstick, obvious "Shrew," don't waste time, go directly to Zeffirelli's overstuffed, overdecorated jamboree of shtick. OTOH, this production is actually about people, who they are and why they act that way. The cast here may be less star-studded than the other version, but is uniformly funny and very much worth watching.

Director Jonathan Miller brings his background as a neurologist into play here to make sure that the characters are not mere eccentric puppets, but are psychologically well-grounded. Sarah Badel gets the palm as Katherina. She doesn't just play the anger and violence of sibling rivalry, she also shows the pain and bewilderment of living in a world where everybody loves her sister more. John Cleese starts off uncertainly, underplaying the verse and slow to abandon Basil Fawlty's tics as he establishes the character of Petruchio, but later he grows in the part and is quite warm and human by the end. In fact, the whole play closes with much greater love and humanity than usual.

The rest of the cast is never bad, and occasionally quite brilliant. Anthony Pedley's Tranio is beautifully done, as is John Franklyn Robbins' Baptista, and Frank Thornton's Gremio leaves "Are You Being Served?" completely behind. Jonathan Cecil knows that he has a funny face and tries a little hard, but his Hortensio never breaks context with the rest of the play. Sharp-eyed viewers will recognize Angus Lennie (Mole in "The Great Escape"), Joan Hickson (Miss Marple) and John Bird ("Barnaby Spoot and the Exploding Whoopee Cushion").

The beautiful but spare decor is BBC Old Masters. There are some bewildering moments when a Vermeer room is invaded by riotous brawling, but that's probably a good thing. Occasionally a gag misfires, for as Groucho says, "All the jokes can't be good." But the overall impression is very positive. Altogether recommendable.

Essentially, up until the last hundred or so years, women were property of their husbands and had little or no hope of having control over their own lives. But it does not follow that a woman in such circumstances would be docile by nature. Any woman can make a man happy or miserable depending on how she is managed. This play is a success story about how one man uses psychology to pave his way into a fortune and a prize wife. John Cleese is such an ingenious casting choice for the character of Petruchio in this still-relevant tale of the nature of men and women. Not only for his comedic dryness, but also for his advantage of size in portraying a blustery domineering character. If you admire him in his Python work and are afraid of Shakespeare, simply watch the first 10 minutes of this piece and if you are not captivated, scan forward to Cleese's powerful rendering of Petruchio's soliloquy. He ruins any other actor's chance at improving on his performance. On the other hand, ff you find Shakespeare to contain perennial truths and keen illustrations on the Nature of Mankind, then you will particularly enjoy the perfection of this version. The other actors don't ignorantly recite their lines, but truly convey their meaning through inflection and phrasing. Since Shakespeare often used artful and obscure language even by the standards of his time (this truth is mocked by the "knock me" sequence between Petruchio and Grumio), and gave no notes or stage direction to specifically instruct sarcasm or anger or cluelessness, it is a credit to the company when a Shakespeare play is skillfully revealed to a modern audience, as this one is. Further, the way this play is photographed is so masterfully fluid and economically managed it would not be difficult to fail to notice that the whole of the first 22 minutes is performed on the same 30x50 space.

As far as I'm concerned, this rendering of Taming of the Shrew is the gold standard by which all performances will be measured.