The first time Alfred Doolittle (Wil Love) appears in the Everyman Theatre production of Pygmalion, the London dustman is unshaven, hungover, and dressed in an eye-smarting collision of plaids. Love glows with warmth, though, as he gives the two men in the wood-paneled library his pitch. He has no objections to Professor Higgins (Kyle Prue) and Colonel Pickering (James Black Stan Weiman) trying to improve the fortunes of Alfred’s daughter Eliza (Jenna Sokoloski), but shouldn’t her father get a taste of their beneficence? Not because he’s deserving; no, he readily admits that he’s one of the “undeserving poor.” But doesn’t he need their help as much as the deserving poor? After all, he eats just as much and drinks much more.

It’s a terrific scene, and not just because Love is a gifted comedian handling the words of that great comic writer, George Bernard Shaw. Between the laughs, the scene forces us to question the assumption that teaching the poor middle-class culture is an unalloyed good. Before this, Higgins’ impulsive decision to turn a soot-faced, Cockney-yawping, street-corner flower peddler into a fashionable lady had seemed all for the best. Wouldn’t she be better off in every way if she could dress, act, and talk like an aristocrat? Wouldn’t she be a 20th-century Cinderella? No, Shaw is suggesting through Alfred; nothing is that simple.

Shaw isn’t suggesting that Eliza would be better off mired in uneducated poverty; he’s merely pointing out that every change in life has its cost—and the price isn’t always obvious. It’s this rich vein of ambiguity that makes Shaw’s 1912 play different than the Cinderella-like musical it inspired, My Fair Lady. The current Everyman production of Pygmalion, directed by Eleanor Holdridge, delivers much, though not all, of that ambiguity and wraps it in enough sharp humor that you won’t miss not hearing “On the Street Where You Live.”

Alfred may alert the audience to Shaw’s skepticism of “middle-class morality,” but Higgins himself doesn’t pick up on the hints. Played by Prue in a three-piece brown suit, square jaw, and frozen hair, Higgins is so sure of himself that he never entertains a doubt about his project. Unlike Rex Harrison in the movie version of My Fair Lady, Prue is young enough to be a plausible romantic partner for Eliza, but he refuses even to acknowledge that possibility and treats the young girl like a rat in a lab experiment. There are moments when Prue makes Higgins’ boy-who-never-grew-up arrogance delightfully obvious, but there are also stretches when Prue seems unfortunately dull and reasonable for such a bullying character.

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