It was 1966, and the world’s most volatile couple was about to tackle Shakespeare. Most people remember The Taming of the Shrew Richard Burton starred in as a loud, boisterous, and strangely meta-commentary on his own marriage to Elizabeth Taylor. It’s hard to separate the art from the gossip. You’ve got Burton, the classically trained Shakespearian powerhouse, and Taylor, the Hollywood queen who had never touched a verse play in her life. People expected a train wreck. Instead, they got one of the most commercially successful Shakespeare adaptations ever put to film.
Honestly, the chemistry wasn't just acting.
Franco Zeffirelli, the director, took a massive gamble. He didn't just want a movie; he wanted a spectacle that felt like a 16th-century Italian riot. He cast the "Burton-Taylors" because their real-life drama—the drinking, the diamonds, the screaming matches in Mediterranean villas—mirrored the combative energy of Petruchio and Katharina. It was a marketing masterstroke. It was also a massive risk for Burton's reputation as a "serious" actor.
Why Petruchio Was the Role Burton Was Born to Play
Burton didn't just play Petruchio; he inhabited the guy's skin with a sort of rugged, drunken charm that felt dangerously real. You have to understand that by the mid-60s, Richard Burton was already a legend of the Old Vic stage. He knew the text inside out. But in this film, he strips away the stuffy, declamatory style of the theater. He’s dirty. He’s sweaty. He’s loud.
The opening scenes show him as a man driven by gold, looking to "wive and thrive" in Padua. Burton brings a physical heft to the role. When he chases Taylor across rafters and through wool-shearing rooms, it isn't choreographed like a ballet. It’s a brawl.
Critics at the time, like the legendary Pauline Kael, noticed that Burton seemed to be having the time of his life. He wasn't just reciting lines; he was baiting his wife. There’s a specific glint in his eye during the wedding scene—where he arrives late, dressed like a lunatic, and proceeds to humiliate everyone—that feels like Burton poking fun at his own public image as a hell-raiser.
The Taylor Factor: More Than Just a Pretty Face
Let’s be real: Elizabeth Taylor was terrified. She was a film star, not a stage actress. She didn't have the lung capacity or the iambic pentameter training that her husband possessed.
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Burton reportedly coached her. He was her mentor on set, but he also had to deal with her immense star power, which often eclipsed his own. Interestingly, Taylor ended up giving one of her most nuanced performances. While Burton is the loud engine of the film, Taylor provides the soul. Her final speech—the one that drives modern audiences crazy because it seems so submissive—is played with a subtle wink.
If you watch her eyes during that final banquet, she isn’t a broken woman. She’s a woman who has found a partner who is just as crazy as she is. Burton’s reaction to her speech is equally telling. He looks surprised, almost humbled. It’s a rare moment of onscreen vulnerability from a man known for his iron-clad ego.
The Financial Gamble of 1967
The movie cost about 4 million dollars. That sounds like pocket change now, but in 1967, for a Shakespeare film? It was huge. Most studios thought Shakespeare was box office poison.
- The Burtons put up their own money. They waived their usual massive salaries for a percentage of the profits.
- The location was Rome. They shot at the Dino De Laurentiis Studios, creating a lush, Technicolor version of Padua.
- The costumes were heavy. Taylor famously complained about the weight of the velvet dresses, which added to her irritable, "shrewish" demeanor on set.
Zeffirelli’s Vision vs. The Text
Zeffirelli took a lot of heat from purists. He cut a lot of the dialogue. A lot. He replaced Shakespeare's intricate wordplay with physical comedy. Slapstick, basically. There are scenes where Burton is literally falling through roofs or throwing furniture that aren't in the original script.
But it worked.
It worked because it made the play accessible. For many people in the late 60s, this was their first encounter with the Bard that didn't feel like a homework assignment. Burton’s booming voice made the verse sound like natural speech. He had this way of making "I come to wive it wealthily in Padua" sound like something a guy would actually say at a bar.
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The Controversy That Won't Go Away
You can't talk about The Taming of the Shrew Richard Burton version without talking about the "misogyny" problem. Modern viewers often find the story repellent. A man "breaks" a woman like a horse? It’s a tough sell in the 21st century.
However, the Burton-Taylor version adds a layer of complexity. Because we know they were madly in love (and madly in conflict) in real life, the "taming" feels more like a private game between two equals. It’s a "it takes one to know one" scenario.
Burton himself was once asked if he felt the play was cruel. He sort of shrugged it off, suggesting that it was a farce about two people who were too big for the world around them. In his view, Petruchio wasn't a villain; he was the only man brave enough to handle a woman like Kate. Whether you agree with that or not, it’s how he played it—with a strange kind of begrudging respect.
Behind the Scenes Chaos
The set wasn't exactly a zen garden. Burton was drinking heavily during this period. There are stories of him needing a "booster" between takes. Yet, his professionalism was such that he never missed a cue. He could be half-shuttered with gin and still deliver a monologue better than anyone else on the planet.
Taylor, on the other hand, was dealing with various health issues, which was a recurring theme in her life. The production was a circus. Paparazzi were constantly trying to get shots of the couple fighting. The irony is that the more they fought in the trailers, the better the scenes were on camera.
Why We Are Still Talking About It 60 Years Later
There have been plenty of other versions. Cyril Cusack did one. John Cleese did one. Even 10 Things I Hate About You updated it for the high school crowd. But none of them have the sheer gravity of Burton.
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Burton brought a Shakespearean "rock star" energy to the screen. He proved that you could be a high-brow actor and a massive movie star at the same time. He didn't look down on the material, and he didn't look down on the audience.
The film remains a masterclass in screen acting. Watch the way Burton uses silence. For a man with one of the greatest voices in history, some of his best moments in The Taming of the Shrew are just him watching Taylor with a mix of exhaustion and adoration.
Key Takeaways for Film Lovers
If you're going to watch it today, don't look at it as a documentary on 16th-century gender roles. Look at it as a snapshot of the most famous marriage in the world.
- Watch the eyes. The looks exchanged between Burton and Taylor aren't always in the script.
- Listen to the rhythm. Even when Burton is shouting, he never loses the beat of the verse.
- Appreciate the scale. The production design is a lost art. No CGI, just massive sets and thousands of yards of fabric.
- Note the ending. It’s much more ambiguous than people give it credit for.
Final Thoughts on Burton's Legacy
Richard Burton’s Petruchio is the definitive version for many because it captures the character’s inherent contradictions. He is both a mercenary and a lover, a bully and a teacher. Burton’s ability to walk that tightrope without falling into pure villainy is why the film still holds up.
He didn't make Petruchio a hero. He made him a man. A loud, drunk, charismatic, and ultimately lonely man who found his match. That nuance is what separates a "content" movie from a piece of cinematic history.
To truly appreciate the performance, you have to look past the velvet and the screaming. Look at the way Burton holds himself. He’s a king in his own mind, and by the end of the film, he’s found his queen. It’s messy, it’s loud, and it’s perfectly Burton.
Your Next Steps for Exploring the Burton-Taylor Legacy:
- Watch the 1967 film side-by-side with the 1980 BBC version starring John Cleese to see how the "physicality" of Burton's performance changed the character's perception.
- Read "The Richard Burton Diaries" (edited by Chris Williams) to get Burton's actual thoughts on the filming process in Rome; he was surprisingly self-critical about his performance.
- Compare this to "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" (released just a year prior) to see how the couple used their real-world dynamic to fuel two completely different types of "marital warfare" on screen.