Arms and the Man: The Overrated Craft of the Conductor

I have always cast my plays in the ordinary practical comedy form in use at all theatres; and far from taking an unsympathetic view of the popular preference for fun, fashionable dresses, a little music, and even an exhibition of eating and drinking by people with an expensive air, attended by an if-possible-comic waiter, I was more than willing to show that the drama can humanize these things as easily as they, in undramatic hands, can dehumanize the drama. -G. B. Shaw

Conductors were unheard of in Mozart's day. Only after composers like Berlioz turned the musical score into a labyrinth of complexity did anyone think a conductor was "necessary" and allow the conductor to be considered an indispensible part of the musical process. The entire Early Music and Baroque revival has contributed greatly to the argument against the outside conductor, but even playing the intricate music of Minimalists like Terry Riley and Steve Reich modern ensembles have begun to operate just fine without one. Contrary to dogma, the conductor is not necessary and is often quite dispensable.

Like the orchestra conductor, the modern stage director has come to be considered an indispensable part of theatrical production. Yet there are good reasons to consider abolishing the director from the modern theater. In his 2006 Thalia Award speech, critic Eric Bentley suggested exactly this. "The 20th century welcomed them but they have outstayed their welcome, and are now a hideous imposition, especially in the opera house." When the dramatic material is eminently familiar and lacks the theatrical equivalent of Berlioz-like complexity, one can hardly argue the logic.

Certainly the work of George Bernard Shaw falls into this realm. It is certainly familiar enough. It is also far from complex. This is a playwright about whom George Jean Nathan wrote, "Over and over again he succeeds in selling the same Crackerjack simply by wrapping it up in different colored paper and prefacing it elaborately with the old, brilliant come-on. Over and over again he bamboozles his customers through the device of making verbal surprise pass for dramatic surprise." Producing the work of Shaw without a director seems perfectly natural as a proof-of-concept.

In the case of the Seattle Public Theater production of Arms and the Man, it would hardly make a difference. Director Shana Bestock has neither directed nor misdirected the play: she has un-directed it. No need to abolish the director in this production. She has abolished herself. Given the fine cast involved and the reputation of the theater, had Ms. Bestock decided to stay home through rehearsals, I suspect the end result would still look exactly as it does now.

In some cases this would be fortunate. Certainly the brilliant Frank Lawler and Ryan Childers handle their contrapuntal roles easily enough. One would have to be churlish, too, to fault the lovely Julie Jamieson and Anne Kennedy Brady for their portrayals of the effete Bulgarian nobility. And yet in spite of the fine actors on stage, there is a real lack of meaning on stage some of which is the fault of Shaw, some of which is the burden of history, but most of which is the absence of a truthful direction.

As Shaw himself noted, every immortal play (he himself seems to have joined the allegedly immortal) runs a certain course.

Everything has its own rate of change. Fashions change more quickly than manners, manners more quickly than morals, morals more quickly than passions, and, in general, the conscious, reasonable, intellectual life more quickly than the instinctive, wilful, affectionate one.

Consequently, the same thing happens to every "immortal" play. First, its costumes and manners will lose fashion, value and meaning. If a play survives this, then it lives long enough that its morals will lose fashion, value and meaning. Only if it treats seriously and profoundly of "the instinctive, wilful, affectionate" life of the passions will it survive this, but as Shaw notes, this may take a century or two to win out. But in that century or so, arguments will have to be made for why a play should survive and most arguments will treat of those facets of the play which are presently endangered.

Shaw's plays currently are at the point where his moral themes have lost fashion, value and meaning. His views on feminism, sexual morality, class, pacifism and the like which are the core of Arms and the Man have grown quaint. (As an experiment, try putting Sergius' speech about multiple personae into the mouth of a female character.) It is then the job of the director - the only job of a director, in fact - to brush the dust of cliché off the play and force it to have a moral meaning that sticks with an audience.

I am not convinced Ms. Bestock makes such a decision. This production is Shaw at his most toothless. Directing may well be overrated, but where it exists it needs to prove its value. While it is true that Arms and the Man is a parody of 19th Century musical comedy and operetta, it is also true that it is a play of ideas, just as inspired by Ibsen as by the music hall. Shaw's plays are an attempt to humanize the banal, not merely to let it continue without comment. Ideas in this production take a back seat, perhaps even a place in the trunk. If the actors are unfamiliar with them, then the director needs to step up. That is the only legitimate argument for the existence of the director in the contemporary theater at all. It is also the only good argument for producing the work of Shaw.

Through Jun 20th // Seattle Public Theater at the Bathhouse, 7312 W. Green Lake Dr. N. // Tickets $15-28, available here