The Taming of the Shrew is perhaps one of Shakespeare’s most controversial and polarisingly interpreted plays. From misunderstood love story, to a comedy that profits of women’s suffering, to a feminist critique on society’s maltreatment of the ‘fairer sex’, no critic can agree on exactly what Shakespeare’s intentions were behind this play. Aubibert’s 2019 Royal Shakespeare Company production, however, adds an entirely new layer to this discussion. Instead of a traditional, true-to-text exploration of patriarchal powers and the expectation of subservient women, the vast majority of characters are gender-swapped. Naturally, for the play to logically follow, the very fabric of 1590s Italy (for the production is still, in an aesthetic sense, staunchly loyal to its creation) is rewritten, forming an absolute matriarchal society and subjecting men to the same marginalisation faced by generations of women. This enables Audibert to exert a unique influence on the audience. On one hand, it could preserve the play as a comedy – viewing the hardships of a world so foreign could reinstate some of the comedy experienced by authentic Tudor audiences. On the other hand, it creates a viewing experience more inclined to careful consideration and reflection of one’s own socially constructed views on gender and maltreatment. However, the fundamental issue of this production is also in its audience reception. The key issue here is Digital Theatre’s description of this take as one of “female empowerment”, undermining the much more nuanced balance between retrospective consideration and progressiveness that Audibert creates. Ultimately, this production is a “fresh perspective” on Shakespeares work, but should not be celebrated as a triumph of ‘girl power’, and instead appreciated for its messaging about equality and oppression.

This inverted, matriarchal world is immediately established in the dance number that opens the show. The women enter first from all wings, confident and imposing. Contrastingly, the men are paraded in as one group, immediately lacking the autonomy the women are afforded. It could also mirror a wedding procession, which invokes connotations of men being ‘given away’ to be property of their husbands in this matriarchal society. It is not only the social standings of each gender, but also the power balance between them that is quickly made apparent when the dance starts. The women clearly lead, and one motion in particular, when the women grab their male dance partner by the wrist and walk them back and forth, acts to foreshadows the control and violence against who, in this world, is the subservient sex. Katherine’s interaction with this world is also visibly portrayed using this dance. He stands alone, arms crossed and glaring, while couples dance around him. This establishes how, although he refuses to partake in this strictly sexist world, he still cannot escape its influence and his inevitable fate as a husband.

Make-up and costuming is also used to set Katherine apart from this world. The men who comply to this society’s expectations of them have much more feminine appearances, most notably Bianco. He has long hair and quite a female silhouette to his clothing, with breeches voluminous enough to appear like a skirt. This decision shows a marked diversion from traditional views on gender in our persistently patriarchal society – historically it is femininity most prized in women, not their similarity to the ruling gender in masculinity. This could have been done to present a different take on one gender dominating the other. Instead of complete polarisation between genders, with staunchly separate ideas of what is masculine and feminine, this matriarchal society values assimilation. In turn, this emphasises Katherine’s removal and later forced acceptance of ‘the way things are’. As the only male character with short hair and Arkley standing as the tallest actor in the cast, he is immediately set apart from the others in how he refuses to comply with established expectations, and instead more closely reflects the traditional stereotypes of men in our world. This symbolism returns in Act 2, Scene 1 when he threatens to cut Bianco’s hair. On one hand, this could be an expression of frustration at the societal norms that Katherine feels trapped in, and therefore an attempt to attack them in any way he can. However, this could also be interpreted as him carefully selecting the thing that would hurt Bianco most – his hair is a reflection of how he fits into this world and reaps the benefits of that, something Katherine does not, or doesn’t allow herself, to want. Furthermore, perhaps the second most significant turning point of Katherine’s character (that of his wedding in Act 3 Scene 2), is depicted through the use of make-up. Here is the first point at which he can be seen to be complying to what of is expected of his gender, through marriage. Significantly, it is also here that he is most ‘feminised’, and therefore most assimilated into gendered expectations of appearance that were constructed from the moment the male cast entered the stage.

And so this matriarchal world is carefully constructed and examined, both in its parallels to our society and its diversions. It is the shift in how this is received by an audience, however, that is most prominent. Possibly, it could allow the audience to revel in the comedy of the play in a way much more similar to viewers of the time. Instead of being shocked at the maltreatment of women and laughter being tampered by a reminder of generations of ridicule and abuse, we are able to appreciate the humour of a fantasy world. This in turn could create a more authentic viewing experience, one where its absurdity detracts from the veins of tragedy that run through this comedy.

Our own understandings of the society we live in and its roots, however, infinitely impact the viewing experience of this production. When Arkley’s Katherine is introduced, he is arguably not awarded the same sympathy that female Katherine would be, and is instead met with a more considerable reaction of dislike or even fear. A direct comparison can be drawn here between this 2019 production and the BBC’s 1980 film adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew. In the first scene, where Katherine berates Gremio/Gremia and Hortensio/Hortensia, the two actors incorporate very similar actions, for example throwing food and shouting directly into the others’ faces. Sarah Badel, who plays Katherine in the BBC production, arguably takes it further, slapping Hortonesio in the face (not particularly hard, but still with conviction), and entirely pushing to the ground a man for blowing her a kiss as she exists. It should be considered, however, that these parallel scenes do not typically invoke the same audience reaction. To have an imposing male character shout and threaten as Katherine does typically carried associations of the very real problem of male violence against women, possibly positioning him in our minds as a threat and not a character to be pitied. Badel’s Katherine, however, although not necessarily likable, comes off much more comedic to those around her, a pest not a genuine threat, and perhaps more desperate to be seen and listened to. The audience, however, are forced to reckon with these inherent expectations in Audibert’s production through its very graphic and extreme breakdown of Katherine’s character. By Act 4 Scene 3, he is entirely deconstructed. He enters barefoot and filthy as he pleads with Grumio, still tall but seeming small and lithe in the absence of shoulder-padding and pleated breeches. This could encourage the audience to reconsider their first impression of Arkley’s Katherine, reminding that this world is not, in fact, our own society or an accurate one of Early Modern Italy, and therefore should not be treated as such. On stage is no longer an angry man, but an individual who has been denied both his autonomy and humanity by someone more powerful. This constructs the sense that, no matter what, a society that values one characteristic (in this case gender) so supremely over the other will always have its victims.

Ultimately, what Audibert’s matriarchal take on The Taming of the Shrew showcases is not, as Digital Theatre terms it, one of “female empowerment”. Instead, the gender-reversed, faux-Early Modern setting of this controversial play serves to emphasise the importance of equality, and how we should strive to create a society where no single group holds all of the power, as this inevitably creates unbalance and causes suffering for both individuals and entire groups that lack a singular desired characteristic.

This piece was submitted to the Betty Haigh Shakespeare Prize 2025

Primary Sources

Shakespeare, William, The Taming of the Shrew, Mowat, Werstine, Poston, and Niles eds., (Washington, DC: Folger Shakespeare Library) (Available at: https://www.folger.edu/explore/shakespeares-works/the-taming-of-the-shrew/read/).

Audibert, J. (Director), The Taming of the Shrew, Royal Shakespeare Company, 2019 (Available at: https://edu.digitaltheatreplus.com/content/productions/the-taming-of-the-shrew-rsc?start=4193&end=4250#about).

Miller, J. (Director), The Taming of the Shrew, BBC, 1980. (Available at: https://edu.digitaltheatreplus.com/content/productions/the-taming-of-the-shrew-bbc-studios#about).

Additional Reading

Costa, M., The Taming of the Shrew: ‘This is not a woman being crushed’ (The Guardian, 2012) (Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2012/jan/17/taming-of-the-shrew-rsc) Accessed 05.09.25.
Oberauer, A. T., Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew: Sexist or Subversive? (The Collector, 2024) (Available at: https://www.thecollector.com/shakespeare-battle-sexes/) Accessed: 05.09.25.