Huntington Stage Co., Boston, MA. *** out of 5. French stage comedy, particularly the classical variety, has always been a tough sell to Americans. Raised on a century’s robust diet of psychological realism, U.S. audiences tend to react to any hint of tirade – the tradition of expressing one’s hopes, fears, joys and dread poetically and at length – as rather thin gruel. The Huntington’s current stab is the most famous title by the 18th century maître Marivaux, in an adaptation by Stephen Wadsworth. Its complicated, though not especially complex, plot involves a princess, wrongly raised to a kingdom’s throne, who contrives to hand it back to the rightful ruler while winning his affection; to do so, she must dress as a man and seduce – in words only, trust me – his guardians, two stiff-necked “paragons of reason” as she calls them. Huntington artistic director Loretta Greco, whose admiration for the piece seems genuine, does well under the circumstances. The cast is attractive, the décor tasteful, the wardrobe handsome; the comedy-relief servants execute a moderate amount of Commedia-style lazzi moderately well; and everyone speaks really, really fast, even through the lengthy exposition. But tired blood is still the order of the day, with scene after scene featuring two actors dead center, and no real differentiation in manner between the prudes and the passionate. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this capable crew, evidently forbidden to so much as touch let alone embrace until the last scene, would in their heart of hearts have rather been making love than talking about it. And I’d have gone along with them. (Company photo by Liza Voll.)