It was 1966, and the world’s most famous, most volatile, and most expensive couple decided to take on Shakespeare. People thought they were crazy. Or at least, the "purists" did. When Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton signed on for the 1967 film adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew, the skepticism was loud enough to rattle the windows of Cinecittà Studios. Taylor wasn't a classically trained stage actress. Burton was, of course, the prince of the Old Vic, but Taylor? She was a movie star. A "personality."
But honestly, that was exactly why it worked.
Director Franco Zeffirelli wasn't looking for a dry, academic recitation of iambic pentameter. He wanted fire. He wanted the kind of chemistry that could burn a hole through a cinema screen. And in Elizabeth Taylor's Taming of the Shrew, he got exactly that, wrapped in a production that cost roughly $4 million—an astronomical sum for a Shakespeare flick back then. Most of that went to the Burtons’ salaries, but the result wasn't just a movie; it was a cultural event that blurred the lines between the characters on the page and the scandals in the tabloids.
Why This Version of the Shrew Still Bites
You’ve probably seen the play before. Or maybe you saw 10 Things I Hate About You. The plot is, frankly, a bit of a nightmare for modern sensibilities: a headstrong woman named Katherina is "tamed" by a boisterous suitor named Petruchio through psychological warfare and sleep deprivation. It’s a tough sell in the 21st century. However, Elizabeth Taylor didn't play Kate as a victim. Not even close.
She played her with a feral, terrifying energy.
Taylor’s Kate wasn't just "mean." She was a woman trapped in a world of mediocre men who only valued her sister’s docility. When Burton’s Petruchio arrives, he isn't just a conqueror; he’s the first person she’s met who can actually keep up with her. The physicality of the 1967 film is what sets it apart. They didn't just trade insults; they threw furniture. They fell through roofs. They wrestled in the mud. Taylor actually suffered several bruises during the filming of the wedding sequence, and she reportedly did many of her own stunts because, well, she was Elizabeth Taylor and she wasn't about to let a double have all the fun.
The Financial Gamble of Taylor and Burton
Let's talk money, because it's a huge part of the story. By the mid-60s, "Dick and Liz" were a literal industry. They were coming off the back of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, which had finally proven Taylor was a powerhouse dramatic actress (and got her an Oscar). But a Shakespearean comedy? That was a different beast.
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The couple actually put their own skin in the game. They waived their massive $1 million salaries in exchange for a percentage of the profits. This wasn't just a vanity project; it was a business move. They knew their personal lives—the drinking, the diamonds, the public screaming matches—were the best marketing tool Zeffirelli could ever ask for. Every time Petruchio yelled at Kate, the audience wondered if Richard was yelling at Elizabeth the same way in their villa that morning.
The production design reflected this excess. Zeffirelli, ever the maximalist, filled the sets with lush Renaissance textures, overflowing fruit bowls, and costumes so heavy Taylor could barely walk in them. The sheer sensory overload of the film was designed to compete with the burgeoning "New Hollywood" movement. It was old-school glamour meeting high-brow literature.
Elizabeth Taylor: The "Untrained" Shakespearean
There’s a persistent myth that Taylor was out of her league. It's nonsense.
While Burton had the booming voice and the technical precision, Taylor had the eyes. And the timing. Watch the scene where she finally realizes Petruchio is just as mad as she is. There is a tiny, flickering smile that crosses her face. It’s subtle. It’s something a stage actor might lose in the back rows of a theater, but the camera catches it perfectly.
What the critics missed back then:
- Vulnerability: Taylor’s Kate is clearly lonely. Her anger is a defense mechanism against a father who wants to sell her off.
- The Voice: She didn't try to sound like a British aristocrat. She used her natural, slightly husky register, which made the dialogue feel urgent and real rather than like a museum piece.
- The Power Dynamic: In this version, the "taming" feels like a mutual agreement. It’s a game they both decided to play.
Interestingly, many scholars now point to the film's final scene—the infamous "submission" speech—as a masterclass in subversion. Taylor delivers the lines with a wink. She’s not defeated; she’s won the biggest prize in the room and she knows it. She makes Petruchio look like the one who's actually been tamed.
Behind the Scenes: Mud, Wine, and Ego
Filming in Rome wasn't exactly a quiet affair. The set was a circus. The Burtons traveled with an entourage that included personal assistants, hairdressers, and their various children. There were rumors of massive rows on set, often fueled by the legendary amounts of alcohol the couple consumed.
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Yet, Zeffirelli managed to harness that chaos.
There is a famous story about the "mud fight" scene. The set was messy, the weather was temperamental, and the two stars were reaching their limits. Instead of calling it a day, Zeffirelli kept the cameras rolling. That raw, exhausted frustration you see on screen? Much of it was genuine. Taylor was famously professional, but she didn't suffer fools, and if a scene required her to be dragged through a courtyard, she made sure Burton felt the weight of her displeasure.
The Legacy of the 1967 Film
Is it the "best" Shakespeare film? That depends on who you ask. If you want a literal, word-for-word translation of the text, you’ll be disappointed. Zeffirelli cut huge chunks of the dialogue to make room for the slapstick and the scenery.
But if you want to understand the spirit of the play—the heat, the friction, the absurdity of gender roles—this is the definitive version. It paved the way for other lavish adaptations and proved that "star power" wasn't an enemy of the Bard; it was his best friend. It also solidified Taylor as more than just a "shrew" or a "beauty." She was a technician of the screen.
Even today, the film holds an 85% or higher rating on various review aggregators. It’s one of the few 1960s "spectacles" that doesn't feel hopelessly dated, largely because the chemistry between the leads is timeless. You can’t fake that kind of electricity.
Actionable Insights for Film Buffs and Students
If you’re diving into Elizabeth Taylor's Taming of the Shrew for a class or just because you’re a fan of classic cinema, here’s how to get the most out of the experience:
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Watch the eyes, not just the mouth.
Taylor does her best acting in the silences. Pay attention to how she reacts to the men talking about her as if she isn't in the room. Her facial expressions provide a "silent commentary" that undermines the patriarchal themes of the script.
Compare it to the 1929 version.
If you can find it, watch the Mary Pickford/Douglas Fairbanks version. It’s fascinating to see how the 1967 film takes the "star couple" concept and turns it into something much more complex and earthy.
Look at the costuming as character development.
In the beginning, Kate is draped in dark, heavy, restrictive fabrics. As she "softens" (or learns to play the game), her wardrobe becomes lighter and more ornate. It’s a visual representation of her navigating her social cage.
Read the "Lost" reviews.
Check out the contemporary reviews from 1967 in the New York Times or Variety. It’s wild to see how much the critics focused on the Burtons' personal lives rather than their performances. It gives you a great sense of the "Brangelina" level of fame they were dealing with.
The film is currently available on various streaming platforms and remains a staple of the "Hollywood Golden Age" collections. Whether you love the play or hate it, Taylor's performance is a mandatory watch for anyone interested in the history of screen acting. She took a character that many found unplayable and made her the most interesting person in the room.
To truly understand the impact, your next step should be to watch the film's final ten minutes specifically. Notice the tone of Taylor's voice during the final speech. It is the definitive proof that she was never truly "tamed."