Resident Ensemble Players present Georges Feydeau's 'A Flea in Her Ear'

Director Mark Lamos and his designers keep the play in its original 1907 Paris, and David Ives’s 2006 translation/adaptation subtly updates Feydeau’s witticisms. But A Flea in Her Ear could play for many audiences in a variety of time periods and still be just as delightful. Part of its traditional charm is that while cheating is its constant topic, we never see anything naughty happen; instead, we must translate innuendos in overactive imaginations.

Nothing much happens

“All of this madness happened because of so little?” one incredulous character asks. Another typical aspect of great farce is that nothing much really occurs, in part because the characters work so hard to avoid calamitous discoveries.

Distinct personalities emerge quickly on Kristen Robinson’s elegant drawing-room set, lit with bold colors by Matthew Richards. Butler Etienne (David Beach) manages traffic, narrowly missing wife Antoinette (Sara J. Griffin) planning a rendezvous with Camille (Mic Matarrese), who has an unusual speech defect: he cannot pronounce consonants.

Lady of the house Raymonde (Elizabeth Heflin) fears husband Victor (Lee E. Ernst) is having an affair. “I would love to deceive Victor,” she admits, “but for him to deceive me first is despicable!” Friend Lucienne (Antoinette Robinson) helps her draft an anonymous love note, arranging a rendezvous at the Frisky Puss Hotel. Raymonde will catch him arriving for an assignation.

Almost immediately, though, plans go awry: Victor assumes the letter must be for his friend Tournel (Stephen Pelinski). Lucienne’s volatile Spanish husband Don Carlos (Michael Gotch, with a hilariously thick accent) sees the letter written in his wife’s hand, and assumes she is meeting a lover.

Hotel hijinks

All converge at the Frisky Puss. Robinson’s set becomes one suite and the main hallway, with seven doors, perfect for frantic entrances and exits. The hotel manager (John Rensenhouse), his wife (Deena Burke), and a maid (Laura Frye) add to the merry confusion, but the biggest surprise is tipsy bellboy Poche, played by Lee E. Ernst.

For no other reason than to cause mayhem, Poche and Victor look alike, leading to countless misunderstandings and many quick changes. Feydeau adds a horny Brit (Robert Adelman Hancock) to the mix, well, just because.

While nearly everyone wants to commit adultery, events stay chaste. “I’ll consent to be your lover,” Raymonde tells Tournel, “but to sleep with you?” Despite the hotel’s reputation, characters are too busy professing love or hiding from spouses to engage in banal physical sex.

Lamos’s production not only moves briskly and clearly — keeping 15 characters distinct and frantic isn’t easy — but is a colorful confection. Richards’s lighting transforms the Frisky Puss walls from white to bright purple-pink in the bedroom and deep blue in the hallway. Sara Jean Tosetti’s period costumes explode in spring hues; Raymonde starts in a bright yellow and sky-blue ensemble first, then a royal purple dress. Lucienne’s stunning teal gown pairs with matching period boots.

The act curtain, emblazoned with “Paris” in big letters, is cut at an angle; when it’s lowered, we seem to be peeking under one corner. When raised, it stays in sight, a wicked slash across the top of the set’s otherwise staid, level walls. This one visual gesture says much.

The play’s tidy moral is simple and timeless: we should pay attention to our spouses and resist rash suspicions. If we did, though, great farces like A Flea in Her Ear would lose their universal relevance. Don’t worry. It will never happen.