The Taming of the Shrew (1967)

Franco Zeffirelli’s 1967 adaptation of William Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew is a riotous, visually extravagant, and unashamedly theatrical film. Starring Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor at the height of their volatile real-life romance, the film turns the Bard’s problematic comedy into an electrifying battle of the sexes, a lush Renaissance spectacle, and a showcase for its leading couple’s magnetic chemistry.

Despite its controversial gender politics and interpretive liberties, this adaptation remains one of the most vibrant and entertaining Shakespearean films ever made—precisely because of the passion, humour, and controlled chaos at its core.

Plot Summary

Set in Padua, Italy, the story revolves around the wealthy Baptista (Michael Hordern), who declares that his beautiful, sweet-tempered daughter Bianca (Natasha Pyne) cannot marry until her elder sister, the sharp-tongued and headstrong Katherina (Elizabeth Taylor), is wed. The problem? Katherina, or “Kate,” has scared off every suitor with her fierce independence and volatile temper.

Enter Petruchio (Richard Burton), a fortune-hunting gentleman from Verona who sets out to “tame” Katherina and win her dowry. What ensues is a whirlwind courtship full of verbal sparring, physical comedy, deception, and domination. As Petruchio breaks Kate’s resistance, the question looms: Is this the subjugation of a spirited woman—or the awakening of mutual understanding in disguise?

Performances

Richard Burton as Petruchio

Burton’s Petruchio is brash, bawdy, and absolutely magnetic. He barrels through the film with swagger, arrogance, and gleeful physicality, playing Petruchio as a self-aware caricature of masculinity. Yet Burton infuses him with charm and nuance, suggesting a man who’s performing just as much as he is pursuing.

His voice—deep, resonant, and classically trained—delivers Shakespeare’s verse with clarity and vigour, though he seems to revel more in the earthy comedy than poetic subtlety. Burton’s Petruchio is not just a tamer, but a man amused by the wildness he’s trying to contain, and occasionally seduced by it.

Elizabeth Taylor as Katherina

Taylor delivers one of her boldest screen performances as Kate. She throws herself into the role physically—clawing, kicking, snarling—and emotionally, making Katherina less of a shrewish stereotype and more of a wounded, intelligent woman reacting to a world that tries to box her in.

Taylor brings a regal beauty and sharpness to the role, and she transforms Shakespeare’s often cringeworthy heroine into a fully formed character. In the infamous final monologue, where Kate seemingly accepts her husband’s authority, Taylor delivers the lines with layered irony and ambiguity—leaving viewers to question whether Kate is genuinely subdued or playfully playing along.

Together, Burton and Taylor are electric. Their real-life marriage bleeds into their performances, adding a delicious meta-theatrical edge to every glare, kiss, and thrown object.

Direction and Visuals

Franco Zeffirelli, a maestro of operatic staging, directs with energy and visual flair. Every frame bursts with colour and texture—tapestries, vineyards, lavish feasts, and crowded piazzas fill the screen in painterly compositions that evoke Renaissance masters.

Zeffirelli emphasizes physical comedy, often pushing the film into slapstick territory. Food fights, pratfalls, and brawls are staged with choreographed chaos. It’s broad, bawdy, and intentionally over-the-top—a Shakespearean farce served with theatrical gusto.

Yet beneath the slapstick lies a director who understands the subtext. Zeffirelli doesn’t shy away from the play’s uncomfortable power dynamics but tries to balance them with warmth and humour, making the film more palatable to modern audiences.

Themes and Interpretation

The Taming of the Shrew is one of Shakespeare’s most controversial plays, particularly for its treatment of gender roles. The idea of a man “taming” a rebellious woman has understandably raised eyebrows for centuries.

Zeffirelli and his stars offer a dual reading of the text:

On one level, it plays as an outrageous comedy of dominance and submission.

On another, it becomes a knowing satire—a game between equals, where Katherina and Petruchio are not oppressor and victim, but performers in an elaborate courtship ritual.

Taylor’s performance is key to this interpretation. She plays Kate’s final speech with subtle irony, suggesting that she may have learned to “tame” Petruchio in her own way. The film ends not with triumph or submission, but with a lingering, ambiguous glance—a moment of mutual recognition that complicates everything before it.

Score and Sound

Nino Rota’s musical score is both joyous and mischievous, underscoring the carnival-like atmosphere of the film. The music amplifies the humour and passion of the scenes, though it occasionally competes with the dialogue. Still, it’s a fitting complement to the film’s energetic, operatic tone.

Conclusion

The Taming of the Shrew (1967) is a raucous, sensual, and visually splendid adaptation of one of Shakespeare’s most debated plays. It is not subtle, nor always politically comfortable, but it is alive with theatricality, personality, and interpretive daring.

Led by two titanic performances from Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, the film transforms a difficult comedy into a fiery, complex battle of equals. While its treatment of gender remains contentious, Zeffirelli’s version invites reinterpretation and critical engagement, making it as fascinating today as it was when first released.

A vivid, flamboyant, and gloriously messy Shakespearean spectacle—fuelled by real-life passion and cinematic bravado.