In 2007, Hayloft Project's Spring Awakening started a new trend in Melbourne theatre: brave new reworking of lesser-known 19th-century pieces, fearlessly cutting apart, speeding up, stretching and sharpening the text, adding atmosphere, violence, psychoses, or complete deconstruction of sets as they saw fit. The Scoundrel That You Need, a bourgeois farce written by pre-Chekhovian Aleksandr Ostrovsky and currently showing at Gasworks, is a child of this trend, and validly so. With the danger of sounding orientalist, a stageful of Australians hardly creates drama. Introduce some Russian citizens, and they gossip, fight, love, plot and betray.

Ostrovsky – by no means a marginal face in Russian theatre – almost single-handedly elevated theatre from a trivial pastime to middle-brow entertainment. He wrote bourgeois comedies with sharp satirical edge, ridiculing the contemporary Russian society, but keeping a sense of realism that created political tingle and controversy for most of his early career. Himself from a lower-class background, Ostrovsky enjoyed depicting the public and private lives of these 'strivers', less educated people chiefly preoccupied with financial gain and getting ahead in life.

The Scoundrel That You Need (Na vsiakogo mudretsa dovol'no prostoty), also translated as To Every Sage his Share of Folly; Even a Wise Man Stumbles; and Diary of a Scoundrel, features a young man with ambition, a marriageable young woman with a dowry, a well-paid clerical position with insipid duties, and a number of well-connected socialites receptive to flattery. It will unavoidably be judged against other works by the Hayloft kids: unfairly, as it makes no claims to citizen tragedy, or emotional somnambulism. It is, instead, a properly social satire with elements of farce. And a decent one, too.

James McCaughney's version, beautifully adapted with the help of cast member Olga Makeeva, is, first and foremost, a very enjoyable experience. Much could be criticised, were we so inclined, not least the psychological simplicity of the text itself. After all, dear viewer, we are talking pre-Chekhovian! A demi-farce! And still, dear viewer, it is so easy on the eyes. This production of Scoundrel seeks not to overcome the text, but to restore the effect of a fresh, quick, modern, hilarious yet reasonably biting social critique. The interminable five-act original has been trimmed into a two-act ditty. The set, consisting first of wallpapered screens, then of a garden of portraits, provides for beautiful yet simple overhauls of scenes in mere seconds. Sergej Taneev's music is fitting in origin and mood.

Of the many choices that made to this end, not all were perfectly reasonable. The decision to make some crucial scene double, or even triple, with multiplying sets of performers, has no obvious dramatic purpose. And yet, just like psychological simplicity sets the satire going, every time a dramatic moment split into multiple simultaneous scenes I was reminded of old cartoons (think Tom & Jerry), where, in moments of panic, Bugs, Jerry or Pluto would split into many little themselves, running around in circles and shouting in tiny voices, before pulling together to make a quick decision. If that was the reference, it was an obscure one, but the effect of frantic confusion was rather similar.

The actors, jumping between costumes and roles-within-roles, range from skillful to excellent, with the majestic Evelyn Krape holding one end high, and the wonderful Ben Pfeiffer the other. Pfeiffer's astonishing physicality make for an almost slapstick, cartoonish villain where unscrupulous charisma may have been more expected, but I did not mind. Pfeiffer has quite a stage presence, bringing a sparkling, self-righteous Gen-Y chutzpah to the scoundrel Glumov. Interestingly, having multiple actors play the same role in unison allows for a quick comparison of actors, and one weak spot turns out to be Elizabeth Thomson, who literally slows down every one of her scenes as the lusty wife Kleopatra with the turgid, stolid enunciation worthy of Terry Gilliam's cartoons of the Queen. There is a very particular, mischievous dynamism in Russian women that has nothing to do with pomp of an elderly English matron. Miria Kostiuk, on the other hand, shining in the back as Kleopatra's double, with feisty Russian eyebrow rises and well-measured pouts, is a wasted talent in the underwritten role of Masha.

If there was a god, this is the type of treatment MTC would be giving to this type of plays, and all would be right in the world of Melbourne theatre. Here is light fun, with formal rigour and respectable literary pedigree to entertain the more discerning of the bourgeoisie. Here is something to see on a pleasant night out, and not feel dirty afterwards. Here is what one should attend instead of musicals.

THE SCOUNDREL THAT YOU NEED
VENUE: Gasworks Theatre, corner Graham and Pickles Sts, Albert Park
DATES/TIMES: May 7 to 24, Tuesday to Saturday at 7.30pm
TICKETS: $28/$20
BOOKINGS: 9699 3253 OR online at www.gasworks.org.au