Catherine of The Taming of the Shrew is an ambiguous character, and that makes her fascinating: she's unpleasant, uncompromising, even foul-mouthed and fundamentalist; some even say crazy. But free. Adolescent and romantic, far from being a shrew: she dreams of a world where people marry for love. But in the Padua of The Shrew, all the protagonists are ambiguous and tainted by guilt. In a deeply chauvinistic society like late-16th-century England, a tamed Catherine was a fine comic character, and The Shrew was an edifying comedy with a happy ending: the comedy of the "tamed savage." Except that today, all this isn't edifying and doesn't have a happy ending. Catherine wants to rewrite the rules, say no to her mother and her rogue husband. The humiliation is total, the violence she suffers is disgusting and planned from Petruchio's first line: he aims only to dominate the beautiful and rich Catherine and knows how to break her, by hook or by crook. On one side of the stage, people laugh, dress up, blow kisses and declare their love; on the other, violence is practiced to nightmarish levels. But the worst happens when the door closes and we can no longer see or hear. No Prince Charming arrives behind it to save us. Caterina bows her head, reduced to a puppy dog: of Caterina, that vivacious and rebellious girl who dreamed of falling in love, there is no trace left. Forced into total humiliation, everyone turns their backs: what awaits her within the four walls of her home is her own problem. We here, on the other side of the stage, can only pretend to be happy.