Not my cup of tea but a nice story ( )

A permissably distant War (the Third Balkan, I think) is the setting for this essay by Shaw. He takes generous swipes at 1) Military Glory, 2) differing valuations of wealth, according to circumstances, and 3) odd foreign habits, viewed from the British Isles of 1898. it is good fun ( )

3.5*
Read in my Kindle omnibus edition of Shaw's plays.

As with many of Shaw's plays, I found the commentary and stage directions an important part of the experience - often as amusing (if not more so) than the dialogue.

This play had an interesting theme - the difference between ideals & appearance and reality. In particular, the contrast between a handsome young military man with no actual strategic or battle experience with a mercenary soldier fighting for the opposing side. The Swiss mercenary is viewed as uncouth not only for his service to the enemy but because he tells the truth rather than the romantic fiction of warfare.

The play wasn't as fun as some of Shaw's other plays but still worth reading; I would like to see a performance sometime. ( )

War: Not All It’s Cracked Up to Be

George Bernard Shaw was a playwright (and critic, let’s not forget) possessing penetrating insight and the ability to express himself with the driest wit imaginable. His comedies often are riotous flurries of sharp dialogue, almost too much and too fast to fully comprehend at first hearing. Which makes the printed play an asset either before or after seeing a play like Arms and the Man. If you have the druthers, see it first, if you can, and follow up by reading it.

In Arms and the Man, Shaw satirizes war; that is the glory we attribute to it and the men who engage in the fighting. Though more than a hundred years old, it’s really a play for our times, when it feels as if we Americans are fetishizing the military (i.e., the flag protests about the protests, and the like).

Shaw sets the action near the end of the Serbo-Bulgarian War of 1885 (actually November 14 to November 28, a short affair indeed, which might be why he chose it). The play opens with young Bulgarian Raina Petkoff gushing over the excitement and drama of war, and in particular the reported heroic calvary charge led by her fiancé, Sergius Saranoff. Suddenly, the war comes to her doorstep in the form of the fleeing Swiss mercenary (on the Serb side) Captain Bluntschli. Much witty exchange ensues in which Bluntschli disabuses Raina of her notions of glamor and informs her that Saranoff’s charge was an act of supreme foolhardiness; that the Serbs had no ammo at hand saved him and his men. Eventually, Raina and her mother hide and then spirit Bluntschli out to safety. Her father and Saranoff return and in addition to being quite idiotic, Saranoff proves to be a strutting popinjay of a man. Soon Raina and Saranoff become disenchanted with each other. Saranoff finds the very saucy servant girl more to his liking, while Raina finds herself drawn to her “chocolate-cream soldier.” All’s well that ends well, but not before both war and the fickle nature of human romance gets thoroughly skewered.

This was Shaw’s first big success and he was present on opening night. Called onto the stage, he received the praise of the audience and, reportedly, the boos of one heckler. Shaw’s reported to have remarked to the man, "My dear fellow, I quite agree with you, but what are we two against so many?" And, apparently, Shaw wasn’t kidding, as he felt himself reduced to a writer of sparkling trifles. ( )

War: Not All It’s Cracked Up to Be

George Bernard Shaw was a playwright (and critic, let’s not forget) possessing penetrating insight and the ability to express himself with the driest wit imaginable. His comedies often are riotous flurries of sharp dialogue, almost too much and too fast to fully comprehend at first hearing. Which makes the printed play an asset either before or after seeing a play like Arms and the Man. If you have the druthers, see it first, if you can, and follow up by reading it.

In Arms and the Man, Shaw satirizes war; that is the glory we attribute to it and the men who engage in the fighting. Though more than a hundred years old, it’s really a play for our times, when it feels as if we Americans are fetishizing the military (i.e., the flag protests about the protests, and the like).

Shaw sets the action near the end of the Serbo-Bulgarian War of 1885 (actually November 14 to November 28, a short affair indeed, which might be why he chose it). The play opens with young Bulgarian Raina Petkoff gushing over the excitement and drama of war, and in particular the reported heroic calvary charge led by her fiancé, Sergius Saranoff. Suddenly, the war comes to her doorstep in the form of the fleeing Swiss mercenary (on the Serb side) Captain Bluntschli. Much witty exchange ensues in which Bluntschli disabuses Raina of her notions of glamor and informs her that Saranoff’s charge was an act of supreme foolhardiness; that the Serbs had no ammo at hand saved him and his men. Eventually, Raina and her mother hide and then spirit Bluntschli out to safety. Her father and Saranoff return and in addition to being quite idiotic, Saranoff proves to be a strutting popinjay of a man. Soon Raina and Saranoff become disenchanted with each other. Saranoff finds the very saucy servant girl more to his liking, while Raina finds herself drawn to her “chocolate-cream soldier.” All’s well that ends well, but not before both war and the fickle nature of human romance gets thoroughly skewered.

This was Shaw’s first big success and he was present on opening night. Called onto the stage, he received the praise of the audience and, reportedly, the boos of one heckler. Shaw’s reported to have remarked to the man, "My dear fellow, I quite agree with you, but what are we two against so many?" And, apparently, Shaw wasn’t kidding, as he felt himself reduced to a writer of sparkling trifles. ( )