Major Barbara

Those actors and technicians of the Loeb's Major Barbara, at least those who feel conscientious enough, should see the Charles Playhouse's current production of that play. They should see it not only for theatrical instruction but also for personal satisfaction, because they, college students and mere amateurs, could never botch GBS with the professional completeness of the Charles.

While the Loeb's version suffered from miscasting and awkward pacing, at least it was accurate and intelligent. Had the Charles been intelligent, however, it would not have done Barbara in the first place. It hasn't got the theatre for the play. Shaw demands a large stage, a realistic set, and a ground plan conforming exactly to his specifications. Director Louis Criss should have realized that his small, non-proscenium, three-sided stage could never in Methusela's lifetime accomodate Shaw. But Criss's decision to do Barbara anyway shows that he doesn't understand what the play needs.

Still, with imaginative direction he might have squeaked by an inadequate set. He tried, in fact, to make the power of his cast's performance overcome the limits of his theatre, but he overshot his mark. His Andrew Undershaft, the devilish millionaire, should be a calm, self-assured, and enchanting British man of business. With Ronald Bishop as Undershaft, Criss creates a tasteless cross between an absent-minded lecher and a greasy, loudmouthed American tycoon. Undershaft should be civilized; Criss makes him vulgar. He should be easy, going; but in this version he thunders every other word as if the fires of hell had engulfed the theatres on Washington Street and were reaching eagerly for the Charles. He should play the reserved, dignified husband, not the long-lost lover who wraps his arms around his wife's waist and snatches at her hands.

Criss has destroyed the second act by inexplicably cutting out the drama's most touching moment, Bill Walker's gruffly affectionate good-bye to Barbara and Barbara's subsequent plea to Peter Shirley, an old worker, for moral support. Because these moments have been thrown away, two characters are left half-created and Shaw's irony is lost.

And worst of all, the drama and irony of the third act have been buried in a confused effort to duplicate the movie on the stage. Stills from the film of Major Barbara were projected onto the rear of the stage, with appropriate ooh's and aah's from the characters, to create the illusion of traveling through a large munitions plant. But no illusion was achieved, only five minutes of some persons looking at some pictures and pretending those pictures were real. Because Criss provided no adequate impression of the factory, the dialogue took place in the middle of nowhere. Again Shaw's play demanded a specific setting.

Within the framework of a misinterpreted play, the cast gives a uniformly excellent, if wasted, performance, and Barbara is almost worth seeing just for some of the fine acting in it. Lucy Martin plays a believably inspired Barbara with clarity and humor, but most of all with sincere devotion to her work in the Salvation Army. Edward Zang plays an Adolphus Cusins actively in love with both Greek and Barbara, and as the scholar-lover he possesses a fine sense of Shavian wit. Terrence Currier as Snobby Price, the hypocritically reformed worker, and Lawrence Pressman as Bill Walker, the unreformed bully, skillfully carry their roles as far as their director will let them. Surrounded by these fine performers, Joan White seems weak as Lady Britomart. She fails to convey the strength and self-importance that one should expect from the sole manager of a large household.

With the best professional company in Boston, and the best modern playwright in the English language, the Charles has managed to concoct a tasteless and annoying comedy. If the director had understood his author, success, not failure, might have greeted him. Perhaps he should have peeked in on the Loeb's production. He would have learned little about acting, but a lot about Shaw.