Review: Australian Theatre Live’s Taming of the Shrew is a muddled production
Originally recorded at Billie Brown Theatre, 2021, written by William Shakespeare, directed by Damien Ryan
Review by Clare Rankine
Usually, for a night out at the theatre I pick a cute outfit: pants comfortable enough to sit down in for three hours, a glittery top, a bold earring and some shimmer brushed across my eyes, cheeks, lips. I’ll meet with a friend at the theatre bar, order a wine that costs $26. In the foyer, we’ll run into theatre makers we know and give glittery outfit compliments, rush to the bathroom, sing out “see you after?” to familiar faces. We’ll take our seats, and that heady mix of a hundred sweet perfumes and pre-theatre chatter will envelop us as the lights dim.
Tonight’s a little different. I’m home from a long day at work. I’m in my pyjamas, fuzzy socks, a scrunchie holding end of day hair, and my face is bare. A cup of green tea close by, a hot water bottle pushed into my side. I’m on the couch with a blanket, my cat Crumpet leaps onto my lap and settles in. My housemate will poke his head in later, having never seen a work by Shakespeare. Tonight, the theatre is at home — thanks to Australian Theatre Live (ATL), a new streaming service and not-for-profit showcasing live recordings of a growing range of Australia's best theatre productions.
Tonight’s show is Queensland Theatre’s Taming Of The Shrew (Billie Brown Theatre, 2021). Director Damien Ryan adapts the original to an Italian silent film set in a bygone era. Suitors are lining up to woo movie mogul Baptista’s enchanting film star daughter, Bianca. But Bianca can’t marry until her elder sister, Kate, is wed. Enter Kate, and the last thing Kate wants is a husband. Enter Petruchio, the Navy captain, in need of a wife.
The backlot of a film is where our play takes place; already, this meta feeling of being let in on a secret world is clear. Adam Gardnir’s set and costume design is magnificent in all its minute detail — with multiple camera angles revealing elements I don’t usually get to see in the theatre. The camera circles the actors, I can see their sweat through their makeup, every ruffle on Bianca’s silk dress. I am startled when a wide shot shows a real life audience - light reflecting off glasses, and winking off an earring in the front row.
Parts of Taming are fantastic. Barbara Lowing is perfectly cast as the glorious Vincentia. Theatrical moments abound: a real, moveable spotlight handled by the actors moves over the set, capturing the painted fake sunset. Claudia Ware as Bianca sparkles in her Marilyn Monroe moment as she spins in red dress, captured by flashing light bulbs. Every movement these actors make is sharper and louder on screen. Footsteps are louder, the slam of a door nearly makes me jump out of my skin; the actors’ voices are so deafening it’s almost farcical.
My housemate wanders in with a bowl of noodles and sits with me for a while. For him, the text is sluggish and inaccessible. He even asks if we can put the subtitles on. He’s confused as to why the actors are sprinting around the stage — “there’s so much dancing,” he says, and I agree. There are multiple cuts between each camera angle, actors playing multiple roles flit across the stage, the set and props are always moving, rolling across the stage. Black and white films flicker in fast motion. Even though I’ve seen this play before, and we’re watching trained, brilliant actors, the story isn’t clear.
It almost feels like we’re watching a high school play because there’s no hiding the muddle of Taming on camera. When a joke lands, or a character does a funny dance of triumph, the audience laughs, but there’s a disconnect between watching at home and being there. I miss the hum of the crowd, the feeling of a full reaction to a joke, and the silence after a poignant passage. Away from the cavernous theatre experience, I’m just in my house, on the couch. My housemate takes out his phone.
Cate Blanchett said “theatre is all about foyers, and conversation, and digesting what you've seen.” This is what’s missing from the ATL experience of Taming of the Shrew, for me. Now that foyers are full, the bar stays open and everyone is keen to mingle, to rub elbows, and to digest, it feels strange to be watching from home. I’ll admit, it was fantastic to wear my pyjamas and cosy up to the cat while watching a play, and I’ve connected a little more with my housemate who otherwise wouldn’t have braved the theatre. ATL is a fantastic platform for those who live regionally, who have access requirements, are cautious about the health risks of large crowds, or those who may not be able to afford the notoriously high fees for Australian theatre tickets. Perhaps ATL could introduce a chat room for members to benefit from that feeling of connection, almost like a virtual foyer. Or encourage members to host viewing parties, to mimic the audience experience. For now, you can meet me in the real foyer. Chat to you after the show!
Taming of the Shrew is streaming now on Australian Theatre Live.
Australian Theatre Live hosts hundreds of hours of Australian theatre with new films added every four to six weeks. Subscribe here for $7.99 a month or $74.99 a year, with your first week free.
Images by Brett Boardman
Clare Rankine loves cry laughing at high octane comedy and her cat, Crumpet. She’s also a comedy writer, producer and performer with a sick website that has a sparkle emoji cursor you can find here.
We paid Clare $25 for this article.
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