When I first heard about the St. Louis Shakespeare Festival hosting dog auditions for The Two Gentlemen of Verona, I couldn’t help but smile. It’s one of those ideas that feels both utterly absurd and brilliantly inspired. Personally, I think it’s a stroke of genius—a way to inject fresh energy into a centuries-old play while tapping into something universally relatable: our love for dogs. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it challenges the traditional boundaries of theater. Shakespeare, often seen as highbrow and inaccessible, is being reimagined through the lens of something as delightfully chaotic as a canine actor.
From my perspective, the role of Crab, Launce’s dog, is more than just a comedic aside. It’s a reminder of how Shakespeare often used animals to comment on human behavior. In the play, Crab is labeled an ‘unfeeling cur’ for not shedding tears during an emotional farewell. But if you take a step back and think about it, isn’t that a critique of how we project our emotions onto animals? What this really suggests is that Shakespeare was ahead of his time in exploring the complexities of human-animal relationships. Casting a real dog in the role adds a layer of unpredictability—and honestly, that’s what makes it so compelling.
One thing that immediately stands out is the logistical challenge of casting multiple dogs for a traveling production. Director Rebekah Scallet’s comment that each dog will bring its own ‘spin’ to the role is spot-on. Some dogs might be laid-back observers, while others could become scene-stealers in their own right. What many people don’t realize is that this unpredictability isn’t a flaw—it’s a feature. It mirrors the improvisational spirit of Shakespeare’s time, when performances were less about precision and more about connection with the audience.
This raises a deeper question: What does it mean for theater when the ‘actor’ is a creature that operates purely on instinct? In my opinion, it democratizes the art form. Dogs don’t overthink, they don’t worry about reviews, and they certainly don’t care about Shakespearean canon. They just are. That raw authenticity could be exactly what modern audiences crave—a break from the polished, curated performances we’re so used to.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how this production aligns with the festival’s mission to make Shakespeare accessible. By bringing the play to 30 local parks and incorporating a dog, they’re not just staging a play—they’re creating a communal experience. It’s theater as a shared event, where the audience becomes part of the unpredictability. And let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to see a dog ‘act’ in a Shakespeare play? It’s a brilliant way to lure in skeptics and remind everyone that theater is meant to be fun.
If you’re a dog owner, this is your pup’s chance to shine. But even if you’re not, the idea of dogs auditioning for Shakespeare is a cultural moment worth paying attention to. It’s a reminder that art doesn’t have to be serious to be meaningful. Personally, I’ll be keeping an eye on this production—not just for the dogs, but for what it says about the enduring adaptability of Shakespeare’s work. After all, if a dog can ‘play’ Crab, maybe the Bard’s words really are for everyone.
