The question is, should a gentleman lick the wasp-stung buttock of a lady in distress? Please Don't Walk Around in the Nudel fails to provide an adequate answer, but it does pose the problem in a delightful fashion.

The real problem, aside from the indiscreet wasp, is how to deal with an illogical and somewhat typical woman. Kendra Stearns does a superb job of defending her nudity and bewildering her husband, an ambitious French Deputy (David Mills).

He claims it is indecent for her to be seen by her son in a chemise. She retorts that it is actually more proper for the son than the husband to observe such nudity. He demands she get dressed in the morning; she complains she's hot. He observes that a wasp sting can be fatal and must be cauterized or licked. She presents her behind for treatment.

Mills is properly and pompously upset by such exchanges. Stomping about the stage with righteous rage, he eloquently pleads his case for decency in parliamentary fashion against a woman whose mind is unaffected by argument.

Mills also screams quite a bit, and in the pill-box Loeb Experimental Theatre this can be disconcerting to the audience as well as to his wife. But most of the high-pitched rantings are totally justified, and Mills' elaborate gestures, which would be tame for a 19th century melodrama, heighten the comedy.

Miss Stearns has better control of vocal ranges, and uses them effectively. Her asides are expertly executed, and her combination of indignation, hurt, affection, amusement, sarcasm and despair make Clarisse quite believable even in this contrived setting.

While granted but a few lines, Thomas Oxnard as the servant is quite equal to the leads in comic skill. His dead-pan contrasts sharply with the gyrations of his employers, practically guaranteeing a laugh every time he opens his mouth.

Christopher Rawson, a journalism looking for a political story who ends up with a first-hand expose of Miss Stearns' posterior, is a bit dry compared to the others. But there is no doubt he knows a good story when he sees one.

Paul Schmidt makes Hochepaix, a constituent and political enemy of Ventroux, into a rather senile old man who is properly out of place in the frantic Ventroux household. He almost underplays the part, however, and at times is totally obscured by the more energetic Mills.

Rol Maxwell has paced Feydeau's farce at a breathtaking rate--so fast, in fact, that the actors sometimes sound like a long-playing record at 45 rpm. But the speed is necessary to preserve the absurdity and humor of the script.

Last night the theatre was filled to capacity and the audience left delighted. You will have to arrive early if you want seats, but the play is well worth the wait.