THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. To 16 November.

Edinburgh

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW
by William Shakespeare

Royal Lyceum Theatre To 16 November 2002
Mon-Sat 7.45pm
Runs 2hr 25min One interval

TICKETS 0131 248 4848
Review Timothy Ramsden 10 November

It's funny and it's serious; at times it's seriously funny.It opens fearfully, with one of those cleaned-up streetscenes beloved of old British films: all nannies, flowersellers and gentry. But Tony Cownie's production goes on to match wit with a study of repression.

In gracious Edwardian Edinburgh Baptista (Scottish cityscapes run alongside Italian names) brings his twin daughters up in identikit Edwardian manner:the same dresses, the same expectations. Both have inherited a similar spirit, but whereas young Bianca matches it with maidenly decorum, her fiery older sister suffers the horrific damnation of the repressed.

Early on, she howls and screams: but education then hadn't caught up with the young person's inner nature, and still enforced conformism. She should be seen to smile sweetly and not expect to be heard.

The result is the series of howls we get from Meg Fraser's Katherina in the first half: cries from a young woman no-one allows to speak or stops to hear.

It can't entirely draw the sting of later scenes: starvation and sleep-deprivation remain torture. They don't become palatable even at the hand of loveable Jimmy Chisholm: an actor whose persona is to reason, not command. The production further detoxicates the cruelty by Steven McNicoll's servant, responding with philosophic humour to Petruchio's outbursts.

Amazingly, Katherina finds a new freedom with her enforced husband: acceptance of something outside her own bad temper will bring a relationship with more space than the deadening conformism that was all her father's household could ever encompass. Her non-conformist nature's clashed against her upbringing, determining her motivation: 'I see a woman may be made a fool, if she hath not a spirit to resist.'

So it's when she's kitted out in laddish garb for bike-riding home that the smiles and winks begin with the husband she realises isn't a chip off the paternal block. You could call it The Education of a 'Shrew', except that there's self-realisation for Petruchio too. For all his public confidence, Chisholm's character has a way to go. His opening gambit with her is so feeble, Fraser's Katherina makes to walk out in contempt. When they get down to battle, though she may bark louder, both show a literal capacity to bite: she in bitterness, he as a mix of playfulness and improvisation.

Humour's never far away with Chisholm, but the final test of the three wives is truly touching. This Petruchio's still not sure of himself. Understandably: Crawford Logan's offer of a second dowry is delivered with a fully-realised amazement that his daughter's reborn in this marriage, while the entire company rises in sahock to stare when Kate extends her hand to place it under her husband's foot.

But once the offer's made, Petruchio's kneeling to return his often-repeated 'Kiss me Kate' injunction with a kiss to the hand she offers is the sign of a deep love.

Tony Cownie's production places Kate centre stage here in a vivid pink dress (a resolution of the cake-icing pink forced on her scowling body at her wedding). Surrounded by the wedding groups, there's a nice irony: the speech may be about submission but it places her centre-stage and makes everyone, for the first time, her audience.

The production's packed with comic detail: there's a neatly-varied gag about foreshortened grief at bereavement, and even in disguise as his master Lucentio, Ronnie Simon's valet Tranio can't resist giving Baptista's young servant a lesson in deportment on the side.

Yet, with all its verve, company spirit and Gregory Smith's elegant settings, this Shrew's heart lies with its central pairing. Chisholm has an established place in the first division of Scottish players. Fraser already shows great promise in understanding and physical expression of character - see the squared shoulders ready for the conflict she's come to expect life to be, still not entirely vanished as she squares up to the other women at the end.

All that limits the characterisation is the early tendency to shout - it's full-pelt from line one, and that generalises the character. Cownie should have worked more with her on that. Once her vocal flexibility matches the rest of her performance, Fraser will be a leading player in Scotland's theatre.

Petruchio: Jimmy Chisholm
Katherina: Meg Fraser
Baptista: Crawford Logan
Grumio: Steven McNicoll
bianca: Eve Dallas
Gremio: Finlay Welsh
Hortensio: Mark McDonnell
Lucentio: Greg Powrie
Tranio: Ronnie Simon
Biondello/Tailor: Jordan Young
Vincentio: Michael Mackenzie
Pedant: Matthew Bill Boyd
Servants: Ben Clifford, Michael Argyle, Nicola Roy

Director: Tony Cownie
Designer: Gregory Smith
Lighting: Jeanine Davies

2002-11-10 18:45:31