Tartuffe (Mckean Scheu) makes a play for his Orgon's wife Elmire (Jaime Lyn Beatty) as the hidden Orgon (Joey Richter) listens in disbelief in "Tartuffe."

publicity photo by Peter Smith Photography

When canonical, centuries-old stage comedies are produced, we expect to get an eyeful of lush period costumes and sets; but all too often, we also merely discern where the comedy lies in the play’s dialogue without ever uttering an actual laugh.

Fortunately, this is far from true for the University of Michigan theater department’s new production of Moliere’s “Tartuffe.” Ranjit Bolt’s sharply funny translation combines with Priscilla Lindsay’s saucy direction to make this 17th century play nearly burst at the seams with joy and new life.

For proof, one need look no further than the opening scene, which is normally a bit of a yawner. Why? Because its primary function is to provide exposition, and it's quite long. But when the family matriarch wields a large rifle while stomping around the house and petting a stuffed squirrel on her hat, and when her younger relations mock her behind her back and nod off during her self-righteous lecturing, “Tartuffe” immediately establishes a world in which you’ll be happy to spend two and a half hours.

The play tells the story of a family that’s victimized by a falsely pious con artist named Tartuffe (Mckean Scheu). At the outset, wealthy Orgon (Joey Richter) and his mother, Mme. Pernelle (Erin Cousins), are both hopelessly under the man’s spell. Orgon arranges for his daughter Mariane (Arielle Goldman) to marry Tartuffe - though she’s already promised to her true love, Valere (Jordan Rochelson) - and also makes him the family’s sole heir. So by the time Orgon sees Tartuffe for the fraud he is, Tartuffe has all the power.

Part of the reason U-M’s production is so much fun is that its talented cast seems to be having a blast, too. Bonnie Gruesen is fantastic as the outspoken maid, Dorine, and Richter’s Orgon, particularly when under Tartuffe’s sway, is hilariously smitten and wild-eyed. When either or both are on stage, everything is better.

Scenic designer Gary Decker provides a beautiful, spare, evocative set with a staircase leading down at the back of the stage, and Christianne Myers’ sensual, layered, gold-palette costumes suggest wealth, in style and color, and imbue the production with a kind of airiness.

My one qualm concerned the presentation of Tartuffe himself. The character is normally depicted as an unattractive, middle-aged or elderly man, thus further emphasizing the mismatch between himself and young Mariane. In this production, however, Tartuffe is a scheming young man with heavy eyeliner (think Johnny Depp does Restoration comedy). This gives his seduction scene with Elmire (Jaime Lyn Beaty) a “reluctant cougar” vibe, and it makes her statement, “The man’s less sexy than the Pope,” ring a bit hollow. Yes, he’s sleazy and deceitful, but physically - as we see when he undresses for Elmire - he’s not so bad, for all that.

But this misfire is the exception to Lindsay’s otherwise pitch-perfect direction. Her actors convey the rhymed couplets with clarity and enthusiasm, often wringing humor from surprising places; and the production's steady sense of movement and physical action provide Moliere’s often-lengthy dialogue with energy while never becoming self-consciously busy.

So while the man passed out on stage when you enter the Arthur Miller Theater (Tom Wolfson, playing Mariane's brother Damis) might suggest that "Tartuffe"'s party has long been over, I promise it’s worth waiting for it to start all over again.

Jenn McKee is the entertainment digital journalist for AnnArbor.com. Reach her at jennmckee@annarbor.com or 734-623-2546, and follow her on Twitter @jennmckee.