Tyrone Guthrie's production of the rarely given "All's Well That Ends Well," which came into the repertory at the Memorial Theatre here tonight, sets the comedy in the Edwardian period, but not very rigidly. Purists, I think, would find the use of a microphone in one scene to be not the only anachronism.

The inspiration for this period comes, perhaps, from George Bernard Shaw, who found in this play Ibsenlike ideas. The husband-hunting Helena, in particular, he saw as a representative of the New Women with the unheroic Bertram to be compared to the abject Helmer in "A Doll's House."

Of these ideas there is at the outset of the performance just a trace, especially in Helena's appearance, all efficiency in a neat black dress and with her hair tightly in a bun. But eventually it is apparent that Mr. Guthrie's intentions are frivolous rather than serious, and that his aim is less to reveal hidden depths in this play than to extract all possible fun.

This he does uproariously in the Florentine scenes in which the soldiers appear dressed as for a modern tropical campaign. The parody of an inspection that the decrepit Duke of Florence gives this "awkward squad," and the address he delivers via a microphone provided much lighthearted amusement at the level of a military farce; so does, of course, the legendary putting down of the boastful cowardly officer, Captain Parolles.

The effect of all this improvised fooling, inevitably, is to cut across any serious intention of the text itself. As a result, it was often a hilarious but hardly a completely satisfying interpretation. One was left with a lingering curiosity about this rare play and a feeling that were its problems to be solved rather than glossed over, as here, something almost as rewarding as "The Winter's Tale" might emerge.

Performances tended to be submerged in the production.

Edith Evans' Countess of Rossillion had all the expected distinction though her interesting scenes with the Clown were missing, that character having been completely cut. Robert Hardy's King of France, seen first in a bath chair, was another pleasing study. So was the Captain Parolles of Cyrill Luckham, a beautifully observed parody of a sham officer.

But Helena, whom Coleridge describes as Shakespeare's "loveliest creation," despite strong acting by Zoe Caldwell, came to little in this context. Bertram, although nicely played by Edward de Souza, amounted to not much more.