The Pearl Theater’s latest offering, a guileless production of George Bernard Shaw’s 1894 comedy “Arms and the Man” is an enjoyable night in the theater. Shaw’s tricky play — a bright romantic comedy saddled with anti-war and class struggle themes — threatens to make a very heavy soufflé, but director Gus Kaikkonen and his two male leads keep things light. But if this “Arms and the Man” never fully realizes the possibilities of its dual nature, neither does it lose its buoyancy.

Shaw’s plot mechanics here are particularly adroit, from the moment Captain Bluntschli (Bradford Cover) bursts through the balcony doors of the bedroom belonging to the lovely Raina (Rachel Botchan). Raina, the richest girl in Bulgaria, has both a father and a fiancé in uniform, fighting the Serbians in the 1885 Serbo-Bulgarian War. Captain Bluntschli, a Swiss soldier-for-hire now with the Serbian army, points his pistol at Raina’s head and tells her to keep quiet.

Only moments earlier, the awestruck Raina had been in ecstasies over news of her fiancé leading a romantic cavalry charge (an event which confirmed for her that real life can be just as grand as opera). Captain Bluntschli — he’s the blunt fellow — knocks Raina down several pegs by informing her that her fiancé’s cavalry charge was a ridiculous, suicidal mission; only a freak shortage of bullets prevented his being killed.

The appearance of this war-hardened captain in her bedroom thrills Raina. Once the initial shock dissipates, Raina has the chance to save Bluntschli’s life, and — romantic heroine that she is — seizes it. Yet this romantic episode is sullied by Bluntschli himself, a filthy, famished man who hasn’t slept in 48 hours and startles easily. As he wolfs down a tin of chocolate creams, he’s far from Raina’s idea of a soldier-hero.

Mr. Cover, a fine comic actor, plays Bluntschli’s jitters and appetite for laughs, but there’s also an underlying seriousness to him; he’s a highly capable man now fighting to stay alive. He escapes from Raina’s house (aided by the girl’s mother) in her father’s coat, but soon after, an armistice is called, and he dares come back to pay a visit and return the coat. Unfortunately, he chooses the day that Raina’s father (Dominic Cuskern) and fiancé Sergius (Noel Vélez) return home from the war.

Romantic complications ensue, involving not only the buffoon Sergius (who’s dressed like Goofy on parade), Raina, and the Swiss soldier, but both domestic servants, Louka (Hana Moon) and Nicola (T.J. Edwards). Mr. Kaikkonen’s brisk direction sweeps the comedy along, lingering only briefly on the maid Louka’s critique of class, Bluntschli’s cold-eyed appraisal of war, and Sergius’s growing awareness of his many-sided, contradictory character.

The scenes in which the cool Bluntschli squares off against the hotheaded Sergius have the most punch; the romantic fool and the cynical sage make perfect foils. But the moment when Bluntschli confronts Raina is the heart of the play. “When you get into that noble attitude and speak in that thrilling voice,” he tells her, “I find it impossible to believe a single word you say.” Stammering, she finally drops her artifice. “How did you find me out?” she asks.

The scene is both simultaneously comic and poignant, for romanticization of war — not war itself — is the true villain of “Arms and the Man.”The romanticization of war — the version in which you see the embedded reporters, not the coffins — is what is most sinister to Shaw.

In his play, the decent man — oddly enough, a soldier-for-hire — sees through the manipulation and demands that people look honestly at the ugly reality of war. And Bluntschli’s insistence on hard facts goes over surprisingly well. Raina, Mama, Papa, and Sergius seem relieved to not have to play-act anymore, and they look on admiringly as Bluntschli sweeps Raina off her feet. “What a man! What a man!” Sergius declares.

Of course, this idea of pleasantly deluded people welcoming bald truth is itself an idealistic notion worthy of an opera. But Shaw’s stroke of genius is to propose an alternative romantic hero to take the warrior’s place — a kind of Hemingway prototype, the clear-eyed man unburdened by illusions, cynical and hardened, perhaps, but brimming with smarts and people sense. Mr. Kaikkonen’s production gets this critical element just right; in his “Arms in the Man,” a skinny realist with a sense of humor is worth a hundred war heroes.

Until December 23 (80 St. Mark’s Place at First Avenue, 212-598-9802).