The RSC is back in London; and Gregory Doran's production of this notoriously difficult play shows exactly why it is has been missed. For what Doran has done is take a problematic play and look at it with totally fresh eyes.
The stock argument against The Shrew is that it is degradingly misogynist. But, instead of treating us to the spectacle of a bullying chauvinist quelling a sparky firebrand, Doran shows us two dysfunctional individuals redeemed by love. Even Kate's submissive final speech becomes a tactic in their erotic game rather than Shakespeare's last word on sexual relationships.
What is clear from the start is that both the principals are in need of help. Jasper Britton's Petruchio is an unkempt, unruly drunk clearly still in shock from the death of his dad; and when Kate describes him as "a mad-brained rudesby full of spleen" she speaks the simple truth. Even on his wedding-night Britton pays studious obeisance to his father's portrait; and there is something about Britton's over-elaborate justification of his taming techniques that implies the character is slightly unhinged. It is as if Petruchio has become trapped in the domineering role he has chosen to play.
But the real miracle of this production is Alexandra Gilbreath's Kate. She starts as the unloved daughter of a brutal father who suddenly meets a hare-brained man by whom she is attracted: the turning-point comes in the wooing scene when Petruchio talks of her "beauty", to which she reacts with a kind of awestruck astonishment. But Gilbreath, who has a Judi Dench-like ability to move instantly from laughter to tears, charts every stage of Kate's spiritual growth. And she gives us a woman who, rather than being browbeaten into submission, civilises her wayward husband.
This is not only the most psychologically subtle Shrew I have seen: it is also extremely funny. Ian Gelder's overbearing Baptista does a wonderful manic dance of delight when ridding himself of his unwanted daughter. Eve Myles as the pampered Bianca hilariously ogles Rory Kinnear's disguised Tranio, whom she clearly fancies as much as his master. And Paul Chahidi turns Hortensio into a moon-faced suitor deluded into thinking he has a Clouseau-like gift for impersonation.
But the core of this eye-opening production lies in its reminder this is less a play about brutal wife-taming than the therapy of love.
· In rep until March 6. Box office: 0870 890 1110.
