Playwright: William Shakespeare, with additional material by Neil LaBute. At: Chicago Shakespeare Theatre at Navy Pier, 800 W. Grand. Phone: 312-595-5600; $55-$75. Runs through: June 6
What do you do when your indispensable classic violates the principles that your audiences hold dear ( publicly, anyhow ) ? Why, you frame it in a juicy contemporary scenarioa stratagem that not only forestalls spectators becoming seriously involved in the problematic dynamics, but fosters their patience with assurance that the offensive parts will soon give way to more engaging themes. Hey, it rescued The Comedy of Errors two years ago, so why shouldn't Chicago Shakespeare Theatre once again rely on the same device?
The frame, this time around, is contributed by playwright Neil LaButethe antichrist of the feminists, but here seeming to be having fun for the first time in his contentious career. It proposes the meltdown of a lesbian marriage during tech rehearsals of The Taming of the Shrew. One of the sapphites, you see, is the director whose "concept" for her project is to revel in the story's sexism, and the other is the lead actress, who suspects that this stylistic choice is a response to her own refusal to adopt a monogamous rings-and-babies lifestyle.
Thusly are Shakespeare's observations on marital accord rendered subordinate to the backstage dramadid I mention the scheming brat playing Bianca and the surprisingly sensitive bear-boy taking the role of Petruchio?supplying our primary subtext. Having been safely absolved of its political agenda, the play-within-the-play can then plunge into full cartoon mode, replete with circle-chases, a groom in peekaboo bridal drag, an ingenue gowned in Disney princess froufrou ( with matching dog ) , codpieces in the Aristophanean fashion ( i.e., big and elaborate ) , offstage cries and crashes, giddy Neapolitan tunes bridging the scenes and a marble nude that inevitably loses its arms in the course of Matthew Hawkins' slapstick skirmishes.
Ian Bedford and Bianca Amato's Pete and Kate salvage an astonishing measure of dignity despite their looney-tunes universe ( even as Mary Beth Fisher's faux director forfeits hers with every whining spousal entreaty ) , flanked by a team of seasoned troupersamong them, the venerable Mike Nussbaum, still well-shaped in tightsdisplaying the clearest enunciation ever heard on the ChicagoShakes stage. And if discerning ears in the "invited audience" detect occasional stumbles or slow spots ( that old incognito-suitor gag gets quickly tedious ) well, isn't that to be expected at what real-life director Josie Rourke's conceit proclaims to be only a practice session?