Thursday, March 6, 2008 - 3:02 pm

Shoot the Messenger
Rude Guerrilla's Arms and the Man gets fingered

By STACY DAVIES

War is a sham. Love is stupidly blind and egotistical. And telling the truth can really sting. These are just a few of the positions George Bernard Shaw put forth in his plays. He never minced words, bludgeoning to death our delicate realities with cruel, common sense. This means that Shaw is great fun, and his work can be performed forever—it doesn't matter if language or customs change, Shaw's messages, as long as you can find them, work in any age. In tribute to his penchant for harsh reality checks, we shall proceed.

While Arms and the Man is an effective, bitter snap at both the faux patriotism of war (it's just capitalism) and the stupid people who fall in love while raging it (hopeless romantics who care more about the appearance of devoted love as opposed to actually feeling it), the Rude Guerrilla cast, directed by Sally Norton, tend to buckle under the weight of Shaw's words and jokes, trampling over comedic timing and often sounding as if they're reading lines from a TelePrompTer. This muddles Shaw's stinging commentary (which we need, given we've been embroiled in capitalist warfare for the past five years), and it sucks the life out of the play, leaving only pretty window dressing behind.

And it is pretty—really, we have to mention the set—the mural of the Bulgarian countryside swathed across the background wall was absolutely superb. We stared at it during almost the entire show as we rooted for the cast to find their footing and cursed the director for many things, including painfully uninspired staging. (Characters staring out into space during monologues—even if they are recalling some memory—make us want to flap our arms and squawk them back to earth.) Being inventive with a purposefully pedestrian story was a necessity—and one unfulfilled.

The actors do their best. Raina (Tanya Mironowski), the young maiden of the very rich Petkoff family who allows a Swiss soldier-for-hire, Bluntschli (Sean Cox), to take refuge from Bulgarian forces in her bedchamber, falls victim to the aforementioned blocking, delivering nostalgic, wild-eyed, empty-headed monologues. (We wished we'd taken a tab of whatever she took.) Cox utilizes an oddly robotic, Barack Obama-style line delivery that puts a distance between him and Raina, the woman he supposedly loves.

Raina's fiancee, Sergius (John Byrd), who haphazardly led the Bulgarians to victory and is secretly romancing Raina's servant Louka (Jennifer Bridge), could have turned the whole show into a standup routine with his farcical facial expressions and over-the-top delivery; he's quite amusing, really, but this choice made him disjointed from the production, like a Harlem Globetrotter playing for the Knicks, bumping the ball off his tush while everyone else is trying to win the game. Bridge is also caught in a blocking debacle, being pulled to and pushed away from Sergius with such randomness that she never seems able to channel the proper emotion.

Only father Petkoff really nails his performance. Actor Bart Shattuck is the only one who seems to know that in a play teetering on farce, one does nothing spectacular but plays it straight—Shaw's lines do all the work, if they're delivered with care and pacing.

Arms and the Man at Rude Guerrilla, 200 N. Broadway, Santa Ana, (714) 547-4688; www.rudeguerrilla.org. Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; also Sun., March 9, 2:30 p.m. Through March 29. $20.

Arms and the Man, February 21^st through March 29^th, 2008.

A production of the Rude Guerrilla Theatre Company in Santa Ana, Ca

For tickets and information, call 714-547-4688 or log on to rudeguerrilla.org.

            George Bernard Shaw’s Arms and the Man is a charming satire of the human absurdity that is war. Arms and the Man was one of early plays by GBS known as the “Plays Pleasant,” plays intended to both “amuse and provoke” its audience. Arms and the Man smirks at the racism which is at the root of human warfare, in the process, rendering that racism ineffectual. Sounds like just the kind of play Rude Guerrilla would love to produce, doesn’t it? Arms and the Man tells the tale of a vain-glorious little war between an army of Bulgarians and their Serbian enemy. Now doesn’t that bring back the nineties for you? The Bulgarians far outnumber the Serbs, and the fighting has spread from the countryside to the cities. Catherine, a Bulgarian lady, and her daughter Raina watch the action as it passes underneath Raina’s bedroom window. A Serbian soldier climbs in through Raina’s bedroom window seeking solace from the war. After a short conversation at gunpoint, Raina discovers that this soldier, Count Bluntschli, is in love with chocolates. Her heart is won, and she tries to hide her Chocolate soldier. After the war has ended, Raina is engaged to marry Sergius, a hero of the Bulgarian side. Count Bluntschli soon returns and the whole thing begins to unravel, hopefully, to the delight of the audience.

            Shavian wit is a delicate thing. In my opinion, it’s tougher to find Shaw’s comedy than it is to make Shakespeare work for a modern audience, given our lust for action and even blood. The Rude Guerrilla’s current production of Arms and the Man is an earnest production, but it doesn’t find what makes this play funny. The production is directed by Sally Norton. The production gallops along at a brisk pace, but it never really find this play’s rhythm. Oh sure, there were laughs here and there the night I came to see Arms and the Man, but, for the most part, the theatre was fairly silent. The performances are earnest, but they struggle to understand Shaw’s wit. Tanya Raisa Mironowski plays Raina. Ms. Mironowski is making a specialty of playing the classics, and from where I sit, she is making quite a lot with her specialty. She plays Raina with a natural blend of aloofness and relish that can be delightful. Sharon Case plays Raina’s mom, Catherine. Ms. Case finds enough of that old world charm to make her Catherine fun. As Count Bluntschli, Sean Cox is a little too modern for Shaw’s play. He slouches a bit and strides about like a guy who rides a skateboard. His line deliveries are earnest, but, for the most part, they’re a little behind the joke. Rick Kopps plays the butler Nicola. Mr. Kopps is occasionally quite funny as the snide butler who’s a damned sight smarter than the master of the house. Jennifer Bridge is charming as the precocious maid Louka, and John Byrd is delightful as Sergius, the hypocritical stuffed shirt of a Bulgarian war hero.

            Wally Huntoon’s minimalist set is quite clever. Three doorways stand in front of a landscape. Furniture comes in and out as needed. Mr. Huntoon’s set is both elegant and comic at the same time. Trevor Norton’s lights often add a sense of “bucolic bliss” to the set’s look. The costume plot, put together by Heather Girten and Sally Norton, is beautiful. The military uniforms are fittingly ornate and the gowns are lovely. Kristen Elliot is the sound designer. She bookends the two acts with the music of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Mozart is an obvious choice, frankly; perhaps even a bit too obvious. Still, it’s beautiful music and it fits the “classic” temperament of this production.

            Shavian comedy is no easy feat, especially in a society dominated by “action” type entertainment. Arms and the Man is a funny play, under the right circumstances, but it requires focused table work and a rehearsal process that helps the actors understand why this stuff is funny. Part of me believes that Rude Guerrilla would have had an easier time with Mrs. Warrens’ Profession, say, or even The Doctor’s Dilemma; both of these plays have a higher acidic content that Arms and the Man, as befits the Rude Guerrilla’s mission. Nevertheless, Arms and the Man at Rude Guerrilla is an earnest production, but it simply doesn’t fully capture Shaw’s wit or even his sense of the absurd. Nice try, though. 

 Keith Dillon - The Stage Door Swings

Does human nature ever really change? If so, then the universal truths that echo down through the ages in literature and theater wouldn't have much resonance.

Among these are the eternal quest for love and man's insatiable desire to wage war upon his fellow man. Late in the Victorian era, George Bernard Shaw wittily mocked both these instinctual desires in his "Arms and the Man."

It's winter 1888. We're in Bulgaria, which is at war with Serbia. Shaw basically narrows his focus down to the smallest possible units, one soldier from each army, then involves each of them with the same woman. Hence, he's able to ridicule militarism and romance in one mighty swipe of the pen.

If you're unfamiliar with Shaw, one of Ireland's greatest men of letters, take a look at how Rude Guerrilla Theater Company handles this 1894 work, one of the playwright's earliest. Over the years, RGTC has carved a reputation for "in your face," statement-type theater, but more recently, it's been delving into the classics.

This is the troupe's first try at something by Shaw. As such, it's a noteworthy staging that nicely balances the piece's outright, farce-style elements with some of its more semi-serious ideas – e.g. the basic equality of all in a rigidly class-stratified society.

Sally Norton's staging preserves Shaw's comic sensibilities and adds a number of pleasing comic flourishes of her own, while the playwright's well-established socialist views come across just as strongly as his flair for inducing laughs.

Sergius (John Byrd), a major in the Bulgarian army, leads an ill-fated charge that somehow causes an opposing soldier of the Serbian Army, while retreating, to climb into the bed chambers of Sergius' bride-to-be, Raina (Tanya Raisa Mironowski).

The soldier, a mild-mannered conscript from Switzerland with the unpronounceable name of Bluntschli (Sean Cox), is dirty and ragged, yet starving and tired. Of course, Raina is soon attracted to him – emotions heightened when she discovers her fiancé is madly in lust with her maid, Louka.

"Arms and the Man" is a social satire wrapped in a farce, as Shaw repeatedly mocks Raina's parents, the Petkoffs, and their infatuation with militarism. After the war ends, Catherine Petkoff scolds her husband: "I hope you didn't let those Austrians talk you into making peace!" Bluntschli, however, knows the true nature of war, not the illusions of heroism, gallantry or pageantry.

Mironowski, a statuesque blonde beauty, makes a graceful ingenue. Her Raina glows with pride over her fiancé, family, country and the Bulgarian army, but Bluntschli's presence in her life affects her deeply. Scene One ends with him collapsing into a deep sleep on top of her bed and her declaring, "The poor darling is worn out!" Just knowing him forces her to drop her façade of upper-crust nobility.

Cox is matter-of-fact in every respect, whether describing the horrors of war or in his gentlemanly kissing of Raina's hand. His Bluntschli is a true noble: kind, polite and gentle, even in the first scene, where he's scared, starving and exhausted. As Cox depicts him, he is, in his own words, "an incurable romantic," and although always outnumbered by antagonists, he's never outwitted.

With his wide grin, pronounced swagger and theatrical, John Barrymore vocal style, Byrd's Sergius is a Dudley Do-right buffoon incapable of apologizing without suffering intense physical pain. Byrd builds his masterful comedy on cowardice, adding Gene Wilder-esque spurts of neuroses. His Sergius is, simply, hilariously tacky.

Echoing Shaw's commitment to socialism, the headstrong, forward-thinking Louka sees no reason that anyone, especially a young woman, should have to kowtow to others – particularly those of immense wealth and social status like the Petkoffs. The character is a complex mixture of contrary emotions, from out-and-out defiance to almost crippling self-doubt, and Jennifer Bridge gives herself over to the role, adding proud scorn of men.

Bart Shattuck and Sharyn Case lend ample comic support as Raina's parents. Shattuck effortlessly portrays Petkoff as an easygoing slob given to fits of red-faced rage. Case's dithering Catherine mangles Bluntschli's name each time out and utters the word "peace" like it's an obscenity. Rick Kopps' servant Nicola is respectful – but with dignity, not bootlicking.

Wally Huntoon's painted flat reveals quaint small buildings and trees nestled against snow-covered mountains, his flexible scene design depicting Raina's bedroom, the garden, and the library of the Petkoff home. Norton and Heather Gierten have done a nice job coordinating the costumes, which bespeak late-19th-century upper-middle-class European finery; the army uniforms are especially handsome.