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Peer Reviews
Arms and the Man
By George Bernard Shaw
Directed by Bill Baker
Reviewed by Cristina Martin
Entire contents copyright © 2008, Cristina
Martin. All rights reserved.
Nature, on occasion, behaves rather differently
than we wish it would. Perhaps no one can attest
to the truth of this statement better than The
Little Colonel Players; after their building
in Pewee Valley suffered serious storm damage
in early 2008, a mid-September windstorm of historic
proportions resulted in massive power outages
just as they were to open their latest production,
George Bernard Shaw's Arms
and the Man.
To their credit, however, they remained undaunted,
rearranging the schedule slightly such that only
one performance of the original run was left
out and delivering a well staged, well acted
show that was a delight to experience.
It's interesting to contemplate why certain
plays endure and what makes certain playwrights
beloved well beyond their time and place. Shaw's
keen ability to touch us hinges upon a portrayal
of human nature that is at once affectionate and
candid. The wit and humor with which he endows
his characters keep the mood light, but Arms
and the Man has significant social and political commentary
at its core. The playwright criticizes both arms,
that is, the practice of making war and the notion
of the glory of doing so, and the man, i.e. human
pretensions and hypocrisy. In Shaw's inimitable
way, this commentary comes out as events unfold
through a well crafted plot that allows delightfully
drawn characters to shine. We chuckle and shake
our heads in turn at human folly but celebrate
honesty and good sense in the end.
First produced in 1894, Arms
and the Man is a play
in three acts set during and shortly after the
Serbo-Bulgarian war, which lasted from November
14 - November 28, 1885. At issue was the political
fate of the semi-autonomous Ottoman province of
Eastern Rumelia, largely Bulgarian ethnically but
coveted by Serbia. After a decisive Bulgarian victory,
the region was annexed to Bulgaria. The war was
accompanied by strong national feeling on the part
of Bulgarians, who saw it as a demonstration of
their military strength and fervor to the rest
of the world.
The play centers around the household of Major
Paul Petkoff (Allen J. Schuler) and his wife, Catherine
(Grace Poganski). The family is one of the most
prominent in Bulgaria, and very proud they are
indeed to live in a house with two storeys
that boasts a library in which there is even an
electric bell to call the servants! The young lady
of the house, Raina (Bethany Morse), is betrothed
to Major Sergius Saranhoff (Gary Johnson), who
is off at the front as the play opens. She worships
him in a starry-eyed way that has been influenced
greatly by her reading of Romantics like Byron
and Pushkin, and she proclaims his heroism with
what she herself later calls a "noble attitude
and trilling voice." Morse portrays the dreamy,
naïve,
rather haughty young woman very believably with
particularly good facial expressions. As her mother,
Grace Poganski strikes just the right note, equal
parts mother hen, social climber, and smart wife
who knows just how to placate her husband. She's
a joy to watch, inhabiting the role completely.
When a soldier fighting on the Serbian side (Logan
Dykstra) seeks refuge from enemy fire by climbing
up the balcony to her bedroom, Raina begins to
see that military life is far more prosaic than
she imagines. Rather than being preoccupied with
thoughts of glory or heroism, soldiers are most
concerned with just staying alive, she learns,
and they do continual battle with boredom and crushing
fatigue. This particular soldier, originally from
Switzerland — his name is Bluntschli, we
later come to find out — has a weakness for chocolate
creams and carries them in place of his ammunition.
Raina declares him a "chocolate cream soldier"
and has a hard time squaring his down-to-earth
pragmatism with her conception of military gallantry.
Dykstra and Morse keep the dialogue fresh with
good timing, and their movement is well choreographed
and holds our interest.
The soldier's enemies pursue him to the Petkoff
home. Catherine admits a Russian officer (Alex
Heath) and demands that Raina let him search her
room. Raina acquiesces, after hiding the soldier
behind her curtains. Heath enters with energy and
poise as if he means business, and we breathe a
sigh of relief when he fails to discover the fugitive.
Raina and her mother then help the soldier escape,
disguised in an old coat of Major Petkoff's.
As the family's female servant, Louka, Martha
Frazier gives an excellent performance. We sense
the tension between her and Raina from their first
interaction, and we gradually learn that this tension
stems from Louka's remarkable clear-sightedness
— this lowly servant is the most perceptive, most
plain spoken one of the bunch, seeing through Raina
and the overblown declarations of love between
her and her betrothed. In truth, Louka is in love
with Sergius, and she chafes against the social
conventions that declare such a match inappropriate.
She is wooed by the Petkoffs' male servant, Nicola
(Mike Richard), but she scorns his general obsequiousness,
aspiring to more than having simply "the
soul of a servant." The first dialogue between
Louka and Nicola at the beginning of Act II comes
off as a bit stale, perhaps because neither one
of them moves around much, but subsequent dialogue
between these two is much livelier. In his first
stage performance ever, Mike Richard does a commendable
job. Nicola serves faithfully to the end, and this
low-born servant proves ultimately that he has
what may be the noblest spirit of all.
The war has ended as Act II opens, and Major Petkoff
returns home. Sergius also comes to the house to
see Raina, and even Bluntschli makes his way back,
as he has become smitten with the young woman.
The comedy of manners takes off in full force as
Shaw pokes great fun at the family's social
pretensions, at the braggadocio of Sergius and
Major Petkoff, and at the affectations of the betrothed
couple. Allen J. Schuler plays Petkoff with just
the right degree of bravado and befuddlement; while
he prides himself on being the Man of the House,
his wife runs the show from behind the scenes and
orchestrates all kinds of shenanigans of which
he is unaware. Johnson's Sergius is laughably
arrogant and stubborn at times, but even he realizes
eventually how hollow pretensions to heroism and
high-mindedness can be. The poses he strikes are
very funny, though his lines lose something in
his occasional tendency to deliver them angled
away from the audience.
In one pivotal scene in Act III, Captain Bluntschli
has a moment alone with Raina in which she admits
that her haughty attitude is entirely put on. Bethany
Morse is quite remarkable as she collapses onto
the seat next to him, visibly shedding all pretension
in her voice and body language as she asks, "How
did you find me out?" All unravels from here,
and galvanized by Louka's honesty, various
forms of deception come to light. Sergius pronounces
life to be a farce, "a hollow sham, like
Love." But it needn't be, Shaw suggests.
The characters do find true love, once they overcome
preconceived notions of how and whom it is appropriate
to love. And leaving war behind, they recognize
that true honor lies in truthfulness.
The lighting in Act I, which takes place in Raina's
bedchamber, has a yellowish, antique cast to it,
perhaps to suggest the time period as well as the
time of day. It seems dim at first, but one's
eyes do become accustomed to it, and it stands
in distinct contrast to the very bright light of
Act II, which takes place in the garden. While
intermission occurs between the second and third
acts, the audience is informed before the play
begins that there will be a 3-4 minute pause between
the first and second acts as well. Many audience
members were consulting their programs during this
pause to familiarize themselves with the actors,
the setting for the next act, etc. I understand
the intention to keep the house dark so that the
audience stays put, but had the house lights come
up just a tiny bit during this pause, they might
not have had to struggle to read by cell-phone
light.
The set is well-appointed, making use of what appears
to be quite a deep stage, and the costumes are
very much of the period. Louka's peasant
blouse and long black apron with a folkloric pattern
look as though they might well come from Bulgaria,
and both Raina and Catherine don some elaborate
confections. One blue and black dress of Catherine's
which appeared to be made of velvet and satin caught
the light especially well.
In all, the production was very enjoyable and very
ably performed. It is no wonder that Arms
and the Man endures, for it grounds us, brings us back
down to earth by highlighting the emptiness of
certain grandiose ideals. Much as we might wish
it to be, the real world is not that of Byron and
Pushkin, and that's not such a bad thing.
Being true to who we are and what we feel and recognizing
that inherent dignity has nothing to do with social
class makes for a much more authentic existence.
Like Nature, the examination of human nature can
deal some shattering blows. The Little Colonel
Players have demonstrated in more ways than one,
however, that the show goes on, and that humanity
is resilient.
Arms and the Man
September 20, 25, 26 & 27, 2008 at 8:00 p.m.
September 21 & 28 at 2:30 p.m.
The Little Colonel Players
302 Mt. Mercy Dr.
Pewee Valley, KY 40056
502-588-1557
www.littlecolonel.org/
Posted Sept. 29, 2008
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