The Queen's Company must not think that witnessing an all-female theater group tackle Shakespeare's famously misogynistic The Taming of the Shrew is reason enough to come down to the tiny Walkerspace in TriBeCa this month. So they added a fake female to the cast (read: blow-up doll) and threw in a few well-placed pop tunes for effect. The result is a fabulous opportunity to watch an up-and-coming troupe outdo most established companies' take on the Bard.

Even so, the production would do just fine without its extra perks. I won't call them gimmicks, since that implies a cheap attempt to make up for the poor qualities of a production too flawed to ride on anything else. This Shrew undoubtedly stands well enough on its own two feet-especially those of its fiery lead, Carey Urban-that anything above and beyond the superb interactions onstage serves as a chance for the production to wink at itself and at you.

The Queen's Company offers "no apologies!" for its fully feminine policy. Skeptical as one may be, it is in fact very possible to forget the absence of men on stage over the course of the play. Yes, Petruchio (Samarra) sports a penciled-on goatee and has curves where no male lead should. The cast also takes advantage of its insider chance to poke fun at men. But by the time Kate finally kisses her man at the end, it takes more of an effort to remember that she's kissing another woman than to appreciate her marital victory.

Shakespeare's Shrew saw a number of reincarnations about five years ago, namely the film adaptation 10 Things I Hate About You, starring Julia Stiles, CC '05, and the Tony-winning Broadway revival of Kiss Me, Kate. As such, most audience members are bound to be familiar with the tale of younger sister Bianca (Little Sweetie Doll-you know who) who can't get married until her terror of an older sister, Kate (Urban), takes the plunge. This, however, is anything but likely, given Kate's aversion to the bonds of holy matrimony, as well as the distaste of the men whom Bianca's suitors force upon Kate to get to Bianca.

Though each cast member executes her character genuinely, transcending gender bounds, it is, ironically, the sisters who stand out. Urban carries Kate with a confident but unaffected gait, packing a fearsome punch into her small frame, from her initial entrance as an annoyingly late theater patron, to her transformation into a battered woman by Act Two. Bianca the Doll, besides acting as a source of unending physical comedy, subtly evokes the lack of control that female characters seem to have in this play. She can't speak, move, or even exist without the aid of someone else. Needless to say, she steals the scene every time she graces the stage-on another's arm, of course.

Director Rebecca Patterson does well to emphasize the physicality of the play. Her actors revel in the bawdy physical comedy typical of the Bard and maintain high energy throughout fast-paced character interactions and smooth scene transitions. Even the minimal props make their physical presence relevant, as in the powerful noise made by clattering bowls shoved off a table in anger, and in the red petals from the wedding of Kate and Petruchio that remain on the floor for the rest of the performance, becoming increasingly scattered with their marital disputes.

In addition to blow-up Bianca, there is an abundance of unapologetic, quirky components to this production to go along with its rightfully unapologetic female cast. Kate's first appearance to the sounds of Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," a wedding with multicultural elements, modern items like leis and graduation gowns gracing Sarah Iams's 17th-century style costumes, and a dream sequence consisting of a lip sync of Tina Turner's "I Don't Wanna Fight" by the endearing Grumio (Natalie Lebert) are all absurd elements. Patterson and her crew get away with it because they know they can. Slightly overdone, these features would be the death knell of a lesser production. Here, the cast is having fun, you're having fun, and everyone knows it, so what's a little fusion of time periods to an otherwise excellent adaptation?

Shakespeare is hard enough to display adequately in any circumstance, and rarely does an all-female troupe even try their hand at it. The Queen's Company, fortunately, is actively working to change this, and their Shrew proves perfectly that it's a challenge worth meeting. With tickets too inexpensive to do justice to the quality of the performance, it would be something of a Shakespearian tragedy to miss this company on its way to increasingly broad success.