More on ASP’s “The Taming of the Shrew” …

The big question with any production of “Shrew” is how to do Kate’s final scene, in which, at Petruchio’s command, she gives a speech about the obedience women owe to their husbands. I saw a brilliant all-female production of the play several years back (the women played the male characters as men, just as in Shakespeare’s time, female roles were played as women, by male actors) in which this monologue was very dramatic and clearly very difficult for Kate, and during which Petruchio’s attitude went from a macho boastfulness, to embarrassment, to complete shame and horror at what he had done to this woman and incredible gratitude and humility in the face of her extraordinary grace. It was a deeply Christian reading of the scene, reminding me of nothing so much as Jesus washing his disciples’ feet.

Melia Bensussen, who also directed last year’s wonderful “Merchant of Venice,” took a much simpler tack with it, and yet one that I’ve never seen or heard done before. The three husbands in the room — Petruchio, Lucentio, and Hortensio — have all agreed to wager on their wives’ obedience. They send the servant Grumio to call their wives from the other room, and Kate is the only one who comes. (Given that it is well established that Kate hates her sister Bianca, and has already been gratuitously insulted by the other woman, her eagerness to join her husband speaks less of obedience than a wholly rational desire to escape the Mean Girls.) Petruchio then tells her to go get the other women, bring them into the main room, and TELL THEM.*

And here is the brilliant, obvious, perfect thing that Ms. Bensussen does: she puts the money on the table. This is a wager. The audience sees the pile of money, lying right there, and so does Kate. She knows the score. Does she believe what she’s saying? Oh, probably, partly. It’s hard for anyone, even someone as verbally dextrous as Katharina Minola, to lie convincingly and on the spur of the moment for 40 lines. But she’s doing it for the money — the same reason Petruchio married her. The fact that she swoops down on that pile of bills like the hawk she’s often compared to makes that clear enough. She and her husband jam the cash into their pockets and beat a quick retreat! (I must blushingly confess that this scene charmed me enough that I actually wrote Shakespeare fan fiction this weekend, imagining Kate and Petruchio on the way home to Verona, laughing at having pulled a fast one on their friends and family and deciding what to do with their winnings.)

So often, in productions of Shakespeare, the money is treated like a metaphor. Seeing Ms. Bensussen’s take on two of his most difficult plays — “Taming of the Shrew” and that which is often called “Taming of the Jew” — has convinced me that this is a mistake. It’s not a metaphor. It’s money. And people will do a lot for money. My God, what won’t they do for money.

More subtly, the production, though set in a vaguely defined present-ish moment, is staged with recurrent images of Queen Elizabeth — on the stage floor, on the cover of the pub’s dart- and gameboard. Which reminds those of us who know our Bard that he, too, was doing it for the money. Shakespeare, that great artist, was also a great mercenary. And he wrote by the leave and at the pleasure of a woman — his Queen — just as Kate speaks by the leave and at the pleasure of her husband. The Queen protected and supported him, too, as Petruchio protects and supports Kate. Shakespeare was no more free than Kate, and no more oppressed.

We all make compromises, which sounds very mature. We are all compromised, which sounds very dirty. But both are true.

*I’m delighted to report that the creator of the “Oh Snap!” flowchart, originally found here, bears the wonderfully improbable name Sharif Kellogg, and is a friend of a friend of mine. Say what you will, the internet can be a fun playground sometimes.