Review: ARMS AND THE MAN, Orange Tree Theatre

It's not easy being rich these days. With the return of HBO's The White Lotus returning to the small screen and Ruben Östlund's nightmare luxury cruise in Triangle of Sadness sailing onto the big ones, mocking the moneyed is having a cultural moment. Now a new production of Bernard Shaw's 1894 play Arms and the Man joins them in poking fun at power and privilege.

All hell breaks loose in a bourgeoise Bulgarian household when Bluntschli, a fleeing soldier from the Battle of Slivnitza who prefers bonbons to bullets, clambers into the bedroom of the daughter of a Major. Rebecca Collingwood's wide-eyed Raina shelters him instead of turning him in, even though her dashing fiancée Sergius led a cavalry charge against his battalion.

But in a typical Victorian role reversal the brave Sergius is unmasked as a caddish nincompoop and the cowardly Bluntschli steps up to the plate as the pragmatic rationalist. The mythic romance of war and heroism is dispelled in one fell swoop. What remains is a gaggle of bumbling buffoons who treat battles as if they were parlour games and sulk in the corner when scolded.

It's easy to see its theatrical lineage. There is a family resemblance to satires like HMS Pinafore and The Importance of Being Earnest (which premiered a year later). Despite the frivolities, Bernard Shaw's wit cuts deep. His interest in class and socialism lingers in the background and gives the play a concrete resonance that echoes beyond Victorian Britain.

It's also funny. Alex Bhat's larger than life man-child Sergius is a bona fide scene stealer. As pompous as he is cartoonish, he wields a moustache that would give Dick Dastardly a run for his money. His comic timing is pitch perfect, an excellent foil to Alex Waldmann's timid yet charming Bluntschli.

Jonathan Tafler's Major Petkoff is also gloriously maniacal. He bounds across the stage followed by his chirpy and slightly neurotic wife Catherine, played with charming alacrity by Miranda Foster. Together the cast are clearly having a ball, bouncing off each other with playful zest.

The production's real charm lies in its unpretentiousness. There is no modern glean or contemporary gloss. Set and costumes are period specific; think frocks, sabres, and Khokhloma designs. It lets Bernard Shaw's writing flourish in the limelight; each shrewd witticism and icy quip can be savoured. It is no doubt a fitting note to end on for director Paul Miller as the Orange Tree Theatre's artistic director.

Arms and the Man plays at the Orange Tree Theatre until 14 January

Photo Credit: Ellie Kurttz

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