This play contains several obvious, though still dangerous, pitfalls. It was written 130 years ago for a theatre with habits and tastes unlike our own, and its humor can seem obscure and repetitive. The scenes are really tableaux, and a good deal of imaginary action takes place between them. A careless production, one that goes for the big laughs and lets the dialogue fend for itself, would thoroughly confuse everyone.

So the Charles Playhouse would certainly deserve praise just for avoiding these pitfalls, for giving us an amusing and coherent Inspector General. But it has done more than that. It has taken the trouble to understand and explain Gogal, to let the ridiculously funny situations arise from the characters Gogol has created. The result is a biting portrait of rural Russia and an evening of theatre that is pure joy.

The Inspector General is the classic case of mistaken identity. The officials of an unnamed village learn that an inspector from St. Peterburg will soon visit their town, and may be travelling incognito. When they hear that a well-dressed stranger from Petersburg has arrived at the inn, they assume that he is their dreaded visitor. Actually, the young man is just a penniless fop who had lost all his money at cards and is stuck at the inn because he can't pay his bill. The mayor and his subordinates proceed to stuff their inspector with food, drink, and money. He, soon guessing the truth, is delighted. His efforts to squeeze as much money as he can out of the officials, and as much affection as he can out of the mayor's wife and daughter, provide the funniest moments in the play.

These moments are skillfully carried across by the cast's consistently fine acting. Lawrence Pressman, as the young fop Hlestakov, plays up his effete poses and mannerisms, and produces an awkward caricature of the Russian man of fashion, Gwyllum Evans, as the mayor, uses exaggerated pomposity and self-importance to produce a cynical caricature of a corrupt Russian official. And Maureen Fitzgerald fills out his pomposity in her portrayal of the mayor's domineering, vain, and dissatisfied wife. But the scene-stealing prize goes to Lynn Milgrim as the mayor's bovine daughter. Her acting includes more than the clomping, the staring, and the whining she does so well; she is a pretty girl who captures the humor and pathos of being plain. That is no mean feat.

Michael Murray's lively and imaginative direction keeps the pace fast and the laughter heavy. He has accurately conveyed the sense of a past age and place and has faithfully carried out his author's intentions: he has made us laugh.