Review: Arms and the Man Revival Gets Laughs, but Not as Many as It Might Have

Compared with plays like Pygmalion and Mrs. Warren’s Profession, Bernard Shaw’s Arms and the Man is not one of his better-known works. Gingold Theatrical Group’s lively new production at Theatre Row, however, makes a case for its being made more familiar to theatergoers. Its antiwar theme is always timely, but the campy potential of its characters makes it far funnier and more accessible to modern audiences that some of his headier comedies.

That’s not to say that this revival, directed by David Staller, consistently wrings out all that potential. It takes a few scenes for the cast to shake off some stiffness and relax into Shaw’s laughably exaggerated characters, but once they do, the comical moments rush forth unlike any I’ve ever seen in Shaw.

It takes place in Bulgaria during the 1880s as a war is going on. In an aristocratic bedroom (monochrome dollhouse set design by Lindsay G. Fuori), Raina Petkoff (Shanel Bailey) muses about heroes and bravery while she awaits the return of her dashing soldier fiancé, Sergius (Ben Davis). Suddenly, there is a gunshot (subdued sound design by Julian Evans), and a handsome Swiss mercenary (Keshav Moodliar) breaks into Raina’s room and asks for shelter. Shocked but a little turned on, she hides him with the help of her haughty mother, Catherine (Karen Ziemba), and helps him escape.

Months later, Sergius comes home from the war with Raina’s father Major Petkoff (Thomas Jay Ryan) and all seems in order for the two young lovers to be wed. But Sergius proves to be more arms than man with the maid, Louka (Delphi Borich), and the unexpected return of the Swiss mercenary, now a captain, throws Raina’s sense of loyalty out the window. Who will end up with whom as a whole new war breaks out at home?

Though Arms and the Man is an early Shaw play (his fourth), he already had a knack for witty repartee and brisk comedic plotting, and all his blustery characters, each of them arrogant and two-faced in their own way, is ripe for campy treatment. In the role of Sergius, Davis gets the assignment. His braggart soldier fills the stage with overblown self-importance as he turns toward the audience so that we can marvel at his physique (costume designer Tracy Christensen’s gray military uniform can barely contain Sergius’s bloated ego). Borich’s flirty Louka gets laughs with her knowing side glances and fourth-wall-breaking smiles, as does Evan Zes in his role as the ambitious manservant Nicola.

The rest of the cast doesn’t fare as well in the laugh department. Bailey, whose character Raina hides her feelings behind a cloak of conventionality, might be excused for delivering lines with humorless formally. The same can’t be said for Ryan’s Major Petkoff, whose bombast fails to get many chuckles until the very end. Ziemba as the hyperexcitable Catherine also seems like an untapped comedic font for much of the play, while Moodliar breaks even as the stolid Swiss soldier. Fortunately, Staller pulls out the stops at the end for a riotous final scene that does in fact leave the audience in stitches. Too bad that what comes before doesn’t have the same effect, but the end goes a long way in making the whole thing worthwhile.

For those who do know the play, several changes to the script may jump out, notably Staller having the characters directly address the audience at the beginning to set the scene and give some idea of what to expect. Shaw considered using the technique himself for this play but never did. While it’s a respectable enough alteration, sussing out the play’s nutty comedy and antiwar satire, rather than making esoteric script changes, might have proved a more successful strategy.