Bringing the classics to contemporary audiences presents the dilemma of trust. How much will the viewers remember from their high school English classes? How can a director insure that the meaning of the work is not lost to those whose eyes roll at the mention of "iambic pentameter?"
One popular method of dragging Shakespeare into our collective present is adapting his varied settings of 16th century Europe to a place and time closer to our personal histories. Unfortunately, there lies the gimmick. Dale Calandra's direction for this version of The Taming of the Shrew brings the play into an Italian neighborhood in 1950s America. Audience members not of Italian heritage or otherwise familiar with the Cold War era need not worry. This is the Cosa Nostra/loud, gum-smacking women/moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie version of Italian America. Hearing actors read Shakespeare's words, followed by "Capiche?," is an experience one only expects from Vinnie Barbarino of Welcome Back, Kotter.
The biggest problem with using this adaptation with this particular cast and crew is the waste of good talent that ends up drowning under a sea of cute references and unnecessary dance numbers. Susan Hart, as Katherine, and Ned Mochel, as Petruchio, the shrew and her tamer, respectively, do more for the audience in their first scene together ( one of Shakespeare's most poetic wordplays ) than all the drippy Mafia jokes combined.
Only Tony Dobrowolski's Baptista, father of Katherine, begins to integrate the goofy with the sublime. His proud papa musings are rendered with an easily believable "Italian neighborhood" accent which never gets in the way of the words.
The words of this play are the key to its magic. This is easily Shakespeare's most ribald sex farce, both a play on gender warfare and a questioning of desire itself. Settings can be changed and dumped, costumes and sets ( in this case, lovely ) can be rhinestoned and jimmied to in all attempts to dazzle, but these tricks are not always necessary when actors and directors understand exactly what it is that they are saying. It is mind boggling, then, that Katherine's final monologue, about women's duty to serve their husbands, is served here in a basically literal translation. The choice that she makes, to bow to Petruchio's ways, is not always interpreted as a vow of true loyalty and love. In this version, it reads more as a survival tactic, which is probably the most akin to the feelings of strong willed women forced into marriage in 1950s America.