The Shaw Festival has presented Arms and the Man several times since its inception. Some of these were overloaded it with political symbolisms as if we, the audience, were inept to understand Shaw's message. Fortunately, the current production has none of that overload. We can enjoy it for what it is, a comedy with a bite, a great deal of wit, and none of the irritating aimlessness of a Feydeau farce.

Director Jackie Maxwell explores the play to its fullest by allowing it to speak for itself. The sub-text in this production stands out clearly, yet never interferes with the nature of a comedy. Maxwell has assembled an excellent cast that is up to the pace of the work, and her effort is fully complemented by sets designed by Sue Le Page with lighting by Louise Guinand, costumes by William Schmuck, and music by Paul Sportelli.

The play centers on young Raina Petkoff (Diana Donnelley), a spoiled girl of indulgent Bulgarian parents, and her involvement with two men: her fiancé, Maj. Sergius Saranoff (Mike Shara) and Cpt. Bluntschli, a Swiss serving in the Serbian army (Patrick Galligan). There are, of course, two other couples involved in this tale without whom the story could not unfold: Raina's parents, Maj. Paul Petkoff (Peter Hutt) and Catherine Petkoff (Nora McLellan), and the maid, Louka (Catherine McGregor) and the man servant, Nicola (Peter Millard).

Donnelly has captured the essence of Raina, a young girl sheltered from life by a cosseting, but also ambitious mother. War, to Raina, is just a game in which to win glory, in this case, fame for her fiancé. Life gets a little more complicated when Cpt. Bluntschli suddenly bursts into her pampered world. She handles these complications extremely well since she has practiced manipulating everyone around her since childhood. Eventually she tells him, "Oh, you are a very poor soldier: a chocolate cream soldier. . . ." It's, of course, a fitting description for a matter-of-fact Swiss mercenary, who cares little about heroism and carries chocolates rather than bullet cartridges. She even gives Bluntschli a lesson about the sacredness of the status of guests in Bulgaria, drawing on an example from Verdi's opera, Ernani, to show this Serbian recruit that she is a young lady of the world.

Galligan captures Bluntschli's prosaic nature, which actually hides that of a romantic, well. He also manages to portray the tiredness of a fleeing soldier, who has not slept in days, with the required comic touch that Shaw asked of this reluctant hero. His depiction of this character makes it easy to believe that he can outwit the blustery Maj. Petroff and his future son-in-law, a romantic in the Byronesque manner, whose nature—under closer inspection—proves to be far more prosaic than Bluntschli's.

The play opens with a doll house on centre stage in which we see the shadowy figure of a young woman looking out from a balcony window. Le Page, through this image, introduces the audience rather charmingly to the home of the Petroffs, whose inhabitants appear to be living outside reality. Mother Petroff's ambitious, yet easily scandalized and somewhat hysterical nature, is ably portrayed by McLellan. True, she appears sometimes just a tad over the top. Nevertheless, she captures the woman, who has just discovered the joys of owning an electric bell with which to call her servants, with the comic touch the role needs. She is aided in this by the fantastic costumes—also a bit over the top—created for her by Schmuck, heavily influenced by the art of the Viennese, Gustav Klimt, and the whole Art Nouveau scene that delighted so much in exoticism at the and of the 19^th century.

Hutt very ably picks up on Maj. Petkoff's cheery nature, which goes along with his generally mild and meek bearing. He is glad to be home after the war. The only thing that seems to bother this gent is that his house jacket, in which he feels very comfortable, has gone missing. Of course, it reappears, brought to his master by Nicola. Millard plays the middle-aged servant with the required quiet assuredness that reveals he is a man of considerable common sense. Nicola has ambitions, but to realize them he has to be the perfect servant. Some day soon he wants to be a shopkeeper in Sofia, and he wants the much younger Louka to be his wife.