It seems like only yesterday that David Ives’s wildly irreverent adaptation of Pierre Corneille’s rarely seen or produced 17th century boulevard comedy (Le Menteur) tickled my funny bone at the Shakespeare Theater of New Jersey. But I was ready to enjoy and laugh heartily again at the CSC production. I did. Aside from such plays as All in the Timing, Is He Dead?, and Venus in Fur, Ives's ability to give a classic comedy the gift of his audacious playfulness had previously been proven about six years ago at this same theater with his adaptation of Moliere’s The Misanthrope which he called “The School for Lies.” Of course, hilarious. Although The Liar has been fibbing his way around the globe since the world premiere at Washington's Shakespeare Theater Company in 2010, this production, under the exuberantly playful direction of Michael Kahn, who directed the premiere in Washington, has been cast with some wonderfully deft pretenders and artful poseurs, all adept at the hitting the mark on all those rhymed couplets. If the pentameter-propelled text comes at us faster than a speeding bullet, so do the riotous convolutions of the purposefully silly plot. But who really cares? We are, nevertheless, intrigued enough to follow the amorous misadventures of a country lawyer/egotistical would-be Casanova named Dorante (Christian Conn), as he gets deeper and deeper in the maze he creates with his lies among the Parisian aristocracy. His self-incriminating dilemmas are set in motion with his telling a trio of strolling lovely ladies that he is a distinguished soldier returned from the wars. The situation is set up delightfully by Cliton (a crafty and chipper performance by Carson Elrod), a vagrant who cleverly reveals to us that he cannot tell a lie. He does seize upon the opportunity to become a valet to the well-dressed Dorante when he targets him while walking in the Tuileries Garden. The smartly minimalist setting designed by Alexander Dodge accommodates the few pieces of movable objects to make its case. It is a kick to see a chandelier make its descent whenever an exterior locale becomes an interior. Soon enough Cliton becomes Dorante's unwitting collaborator in his master's recklessly misguided wooing of the lovely and impetuous Clarice (Ismenia Mendes), her winsome best friend Lucrece (Amelia Pedlow), and their respective servants, both played with a comical contrast of personality by Kelly Hutchinson for the usual comedy-of-errors results. Conn is terrific and often hilarious as the incorrigibly self-serving Dorante who divulges an elaborately plotted but never really executed seduction of Clarice to his best friend Alcippe (Tony Roach.) That's when things get complicated. Not only is Alcippe secretly betrothed to Clarice, but she also is plotting with Lucrece, who secretly loves Dorante. This does not take into account the machinations of Dorante's father Geronte, played by a warm but sometimes bellowing Adam Lefevre to get a wife for his son. A highlight is a riotously funny duel between Dorante and Alcippe in which neither— well, I won't spoil it for you. Yes, scenery chewing is part of the fun, and fun it is if you fall in line with Corneille's theme as spoken by Dorante, “The unimagined life is not worth living.” There may be some who will want to agree more with Cliton's remark “This may be more than what I asked for,” but in the end you will mostly likely have to admit that what you got was good for quite a few laughs. The real pleasures of this hardly risqué but stunningly convoluted romp are not derived by following its contrivances (impossible), but in falling in line with the constant barrage of giddily contemporized rhymes that drive this daffy farce and by the charm of the actors delivering it. Enormous credit goes to this fine cast that nevertheless strikes their respective 17th century poses with consummate skill and panache. The 17th century haute couture designed by Murell Horton is spectacular and adds additional luster to this grand and funny show.
