There’s an awful lot of actorly flappage in this Writers’ Theatre production, but none of it seems to matter when Timothy Edward Kane is around. As the dry-humored soldier-for-hire in George Bernard Shaw’s Bulgarian-set bodice ripper, Kane underplays his drollery just so, resulting in a spare and charming performance that counterbalances the mugging that occurs elsewhere on stage. In need of safe haven during the final days of World War I, an enemy soldier (Kane) bursts through the bedroom window of a spoiled little rich girl (Elizabeth Ledo), whom he promptly engages in a repartee fueled by exhaustion and sly flirtation. She helps him escape the next morning, and a year later, with peace talks in the air, he returns—as does the young lady’s gruffly clueless father (Jonathan Weir) and her fiancé (Brad Eric Johnson), a doofy cad with an overactive ego and an eye for the sexy housemaid (Kymberly Mellen). The setup is one giant romantic parry and, under the direction of William Brown, the production pops along with a fetching sort of whimsy. That pillow-strewn hookah lounge designed by Brian Sidney Bembridge ain’t half bad, either. (Nina Metz)
