Gabriella Sundar Singh in Major Barbara (Shaw Festival, 2025) | Photo by David Cooper
George Bernard Shaw’s didactic, argumentative style isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. And though his characters are highly positional, sparring mouthpieces for his political and idealogical ruminating, I don’t consider his theatre bombastic. The people feel grounded, the situations urgent and the plays as a whole entirely playful. Major Barbara, the only play of his at the Shaw Festival this year, certainly fits the mould. And it’s a good production, where it really matters, though I did walk away scratching my head at some of director Peter Hinton-Davis’s choices.
The story sees aristocratic family drama slamming up against impoverished desperation and religious strictures colliding with capitalist principles, revealing the hypocrisies of both. Lady Britomart (a witty and imposing Fiona Byrne), an elderly matriarch, hopes to bring estranged husband Andrew Undershaft (Patrick Galligan) back into the fold. She has adult children, a son and two daughters, to set up properly in life and he is the wealthy owner of a munitions factory. There are plenty of amusing and poignant interpersonal particulars, but the core of the story is the ethical debates of Barbara (Gabriella Sundar Singh), a Major in The Salvation Army, striving to save souls and her capitalist father, reaping the financial rewards of war, with his own strict principles.
With a handshake, they accept a weighty challenge—each will visit the other’s place of work to witness the daily routine and, ultimately, discover the social cost-benefit impact of their vocations. Let the philosophical game begin! Though set at the beginning of the 20th century, there is enduring resonance in Barbara’s dilemma. As The Salvation Army is under threat of financial collapse, can she accept her father’s massive philanthropic offering, knowing his means are the result of activities she finds morally repellant?
Singh’s small stature seems to vibrate and glow with determined enthusiasm. Though she doesn’t indulge many grand gestures—save for that hearty, pivotal handshake—her face and voice betray her bright conviction. Her gentle authority is especially compelling when she contends with a violent ruffian played by Sepher Reybod in a secondary role (he also plays her silly brother Charles Lomax). Reybod, a convincingly unpleasant bully, is worn down to an abject creature by her needling and persistent belief in his potential goodness.
Galligan is highly charismatic as a witty, amiable though steel-willed pragmatist. He shows us a man who can afford to be kind and jovial, but who is also obdurate and will defend his position fervently. He has an especially tender moment with Byrne’s Lady Britomart, where he allows himself to be fully vulnerable with a brief and intimate gesture of affection, transcending their mutual coolness and offering a lovely glimpse into their history!
As Stephen Undershaft, the whinging only son, Taurian Teelucksingh is hilariously neurotic and jittery. His dynamic with his mother in the opening scene, as she tries to lay the symbolic weight of her parental burden on his weak shoulders, introduces us to the play’s restrained and robust comedy. Adolphus Cusins (André Morin), Barbara’s fiancé, is also exceptionally funny as a clingy and pompous expert on Greek language and philosophy. He surprises all concerned with some ruthless opportunism in the final act—a satisfying payoff for the subplot about the inheritance of the Undershaft fortune.
Gillian Gallow’s set is an almost oppressive facade of blue—nondescript high walls and steps facing in on each other, trapping all the characters. Red accents appear in props and costume elements to complete the symbolism—these are The Salvation Army colours. The rows of warheads that emerge in the final act, representing the munitions factory, look a little silly, but they suit the aesthetic well enough. And they are a suitably tangible contrast to the glowing outline of a cross that marks The Salvation Army—the fight for spiritual salvation verses the defense of our mortal flesh. I fixated on a huge backdrop that represents the Britomart family home—a painting of a woman’s head in a pastoral scene that I could not identify, though it seems to hold some meaning.
There are two aspects of Hinton-Davis’s staging that flummoxed me. Firstly, certain sound motifs: The bell sounds as punctuation do plant the idea that some scenes are a boxing match. Later, this gives way to chimes which seem not to correspond to anything I could identify and which became distracting. Even more jarring was the choice to bring the house lights up for most of the final scene. The intent became especially obscure when, as Barbara and Adolphus come to the front of the stage for the finale, the house lights go back down—precisely when the production feels the most Brechtian! When Barbara and Adolphus gesture quite vigorously out towards us, the audience, as “the people,” the play’s fourth wall is the most deliberately compromised and the house lights would have made far more sense here.
Anyway, despite the oddness and incongruity of certain flourishes, the characters are richly rendered and the production overall is sturdy and compelling.
Major Barbara
June 1 to October 5, 2025
Royal George Theatre
(85 Queen Street, Niagara-on-the-Lake)
3 hours (including intermission)
Gabriella Sundar Singh and Patrick Galligan in Major Barbara (Shaw Festival, 2025) | Photo by David Cooper