The Taming of the Shrew

Presented by Tennessee Repertory Theatre

Through March 23 at TPAC’s Polk Theater

Some people love the 1950s because the decade conjures a nostalgic sense of innocence. We like to believe that everything was great then: Suburbia was exploding with brand-new white-picket-fence homes, and American life was eased and enhanced by refrigerators, televisions and the developing interstate highway system. Of course, it was also the decade of Joe McCarthy, the Korean War and ugly incidents of Southern racism. Some films of the period, such as Rebel Without a Cause, tried in their way to alert the citizenry that maybe all was not perfect; yet eventually, retro artistic indulgences such as Grease and George Lucas’ American Graffiti helped affirm the common belief that the ’50s were simple—and maybe even wholesome.

Frankly, I find ’50s retro culture cloying, annoying and mindless, but that didn’t stop me from thoroughly enjoying Tennessee Repertory Theatre’s new production of The Taming of the Shrew. Playing on a simply dazzling set designed by the ever clever Gary C. Hoff, the Rep’s gifted cast takes director David Grapes’ workable concept to heart, as Shakespeare’s 16th century Italy becomes a 1950s American consumerist wonderland. The juxtaposition of the Bard’s language with this brightly colorized mise-en-scène would seem to clash, but it doesn’t in the least. If this collection of actors were performing a traditional version of Shrew, it would be at least nearly as successful, but the fresh paint job on the overplot breathes new life into a familiar tale.

The comic story remains the same. A man named Baptista has two daughters. The younger, Bianca, draws suitors with ease, but he won’t marry her off till he can find a suitable husband for her older sister, the renownedly shrewish Kate. While Bianca’s gentleman callers scheme various ways to win her heart, an engaging fellow named Petruchio comes to town looking for a wife of means. Kate will do, it seems, but not before he endeavors to tame her contrary spirit and the two settle into a union of happy, mutually acknowledged tension.

Petruchio in this telling is a glib-tongued golf pro, while Baptista’s daughters loll around a suburban patio that features a barbecue, pink flamingos and a wading pool. Meanwhile, the other players cavort in period costumes of polka dots, checks and plaids, while catchy rock ’n’ roll tunes back up the action. An onstage golf cart zips around in various scenes, designer Hoff flies in a few atmospheric set pieces, and the whole rigmarole is wrapped within a superimposed radio deejay gimmick, which functions as a loose narrative guide.

It works. The cotton-candy pastiche is fun to behold, yet the production leaves plenty of room for the audience to grasp the Bard’s sly lampoon of male-female relationships. The underlying message seems to be that a tamed wife makes for a happier life, though within the play’s context, one assumes that this idea has more to do with the benefits of making a good match than it does with misogyny or paternalism.

Excellent performances abound, with all the players thriving under the direction of Grapes and assistant director Denice Hicks, who is no stranger to Shakespeare after many years as artistic director of the Nashville Shakespeare Festival. Smart bits of stage business definitely enhance the humor, and a general sense of merriment rules the day.

In his Rep debut, Grant Goodman shines as Petruchio. He’s tall, handsome, clear-voiced, intelligible and witty. Anna Stone, fresh off her recent triumph in the Rep’s production of Proof, is Kate. Her work is up to the same high level of quality she demonstrated in that play:She moves with assuredness, she recites Shakespeare with meaning and she brings both fire and nuance to her character. Meanwhile, the always worthy Henry Haggard chortles winningly as Baptista, and Rep newcomer Missy Matherene acquits herself quite nicely as the frivolous, boy-crazy teenybopper Bianca.

Other strong contributions come from Brian Webb Russell, Matthew Carlton, Dan Matisa, Jason Heil and Miles Aubrey, who brings his guitar onstage and regales the audience with a little dose of three-chord rock. Finally, for sheer athletic achievement, a gold star goes to Keiana Nikole Richard, who seems quite at home wordlessly roller-skating to and fro across the broad expanse of the Polk Theater stage.

Family troubles

Uptown at the Darkhorse Theater, ACT I has mounted a production about a shrew of a different kind: the infamous Hedda Gabler. Henrik Ibsen’s 1890 drama continues to both mesmerize and revile with its portrait of a frighteningly intense, tormentedly manipulative Norwegian housewife who wreaks havoc with the minds of everyone in her domestic sphere. The interpretations of this play are many, and they span vast intellectual horizons of feminism and social criticism. Is Hedda an unfortunate byproduct of the constrictions placed on women in her society? Is she a martyr to the cause of females who found themselves forced to “marry well” because there were no other life options? Or is she simply a weak creature who should have known better than to have married the dullard George Tesman?

The ACT I production, which runs through March 22, is flawed. The actors’ characterizations, under Robert A. O’Connell’s direction, aren’t rendered with enough depth or edgy angles to probe the script’s multiple levels. But it is still a thought-provoking evening of theater and well worth attention.

Candy Potts as Hedda looks great in designer Pat Rulon’s period costumes, and while her performance isn’t anywhere near the necessary bravura level, she does maintain consistency in one of dramatic literature’s most challenging roles. Potts broods, schemes and shoots her pistols with commitment, and a good portion of Ibsen’s perplexing dialogue hits the mark. Deanna Glasser does nice work as the overwrought but goodhearted Thea Elvsted; Charles Howard brings a quirky presence to his brief portrayal of the wild-eyed, alcoholic genius Eilert Lovborg; and John Devine, as the fussy academic Tesman, has many convincing moments in a difficult role that is almost completely unlikable (and would be no matter who was playing it). Bobby Moore’s characterization as Judge Brack, seemingly right-on at first blush, comes apart as the evening wears on. His avuncular portrayal should become more deliciously lecherous as it progresses. Alas, it does not, and the play suffers because of it.

Even for the most accomplished theater company, Hedda Gabler is a tough mountain to climb. ACT I makes it to about the first or second rest area—meaning this production is certainly not without merit, but neither is it equipped to reach the top.