A Wyrd Sister walks into a bar—one of Macbeth's Wryd Sisters, called "witches" by unreconstructed foozles, to be exact—where she encounters a young man acting like a jerk. At first, she and her four girlfriends attempt to punish him by turning him into an ass, but when this does nothing to change his behavior — he's already an ass, you see — they decide instead to teach him a lesson. Assisted by their sorcery, they dress him in feminine garb and rechristen him Katherine. Soon he finds himself married to a virtual stranger, the boisterous foreigner Petruchio, and bullied by the men of Padua (played by the other Sisters). Does this premise sound familiar? It should, since 95 percent of the text is lifted from Shakespeare's Greatest Hits—which is the whole point. Cross-gender casting is hardly unique nowadays. Chicago playgoers can recall all-female Shakespeare at the now-disbanded Footsteps and the currently operating Babes With Blades companies (and let's not forget Glenda Jackson's Lear at the Old Vic). Switching players' sexes often facilitate fresh interpretations of well-known narratives by discouraging actors from simply aping their predecessors. Speeches previously unquestioned may suddenly take on significance — for example, the importance of money in deciding daughters' fates is thrown into focus as we listen to fathers haggle with suitors over dowries. Is it any wonder that Bianca, striving to evade the indignity imposed on her elder sibling, resorts to subterfuge beyond that offered by Shakespeare? While playwright Barbara Zahora has plenty of fun divesting our hapless male of his privilege, to have him emerge from his experience ready to accept subservience as his lot, however, would be merely to exchange one injustice for another, leaving unchallenged the divisive dynamic at its source. Reconciliation, not humiliation, being our author's goal, our hitherto clueless pilgrim, once freed of his spell, continues to defend his right to speak his mind and make his own decisions ("I see a woman may be made a fool, if she have not spirit to resist"). When the Sisters remind him that they are persecuted for expressing like sentiments, he vows to assist them in their quest for empowerment. Dan Wilson and India Gurley make a charming Katherine and Petruchio, but the refreshingly unconventional phrasing and varied vocal harmonies (very important in a production employing exclusively treble voices) are the province of the quartet of actors portraying the 16 remaining characters — in particular, Mary Ann de la Cruz' puckish servant, though Veronda G. Carey nearly steals the show as first, the baritone-chested Gremio, and later, a purring bling-bedecked trophy wife.
