“Where wealth accumulates, men decay.” So said Oliver Goldsmith, the 18th century novelist and essayist. Such a comment could easily have come right after viewing a performance of MoliËre’s “The Miser,” currently playing at the ThÈ‚tre de la Jeune Lune in Minneapolis.

Harpagon (Steven Epp), the titular skinflint, is so stingy he dresses himself and his family in rags, bathes in runoff from his roof and saves the bits of plaster which drop from the ceiling of his decrepit house. He’s also extremely paranoid, strip-searching the servants to make sure they haven’t stolen anything and constantly hurrying out to check on the cache of gold he’s unwisely buried in the garden (the first place any thief looks, as one character points out). Harpagon’s only aim in life is to accumulate wealth, not to enjoy it or allow those closest to him to benefit.

The house, literally crumbling into ruin before the audience’s eyes, clearly symbolizes the decay of the miser, who is made up to look as disgusting as possible: his hair is patchy and stringy, he dresses in filthy rags, his shifty, darting eyes seem constantly calculating and he occasionally takes on the mannerisms of a lizard as he slithers across the stage, flicking his tongue. In his portrayal of a dirty old man, Epps has hit the nail right on the head, and the audience squirms in discomfort as he anticipates marrying a girl young enough to be his daughter.

Naturally, Harpagon’s relationship with his two children, …lise (Sarah Agnew) and ClÈante (Stephen Cartmell), is not exactly supportive and loving. He’s looking to dispose of them as profitably as possible. Elise is to be handed off to an ancient, wealthy gentleman who has agreed to take her without a dowry. Harpagon has found his son a widow with dozens of grandchildren ClÈante’s age, so he’ll have plenty of company, according to the father. Never mind the fact that both children are in love with others (in ClÈante’s case, with his father’s intended bride).

If this type of absurd plotting sounds familiar, it’s because Shakespeare did it a lot. Suspend disbelief and accept the fact that multiple absurd coincidences do happen, especially in the plots of comedies. This is not your typical comedy, however. Yes, it has its funny bits, but mostly the audience is tossed from pity for the neglected children and the bizarre, zombie-like servants, to absolute disgust at the idea that such an appalling human being as Harpagon could possibly exist. The sad part is that there are actually people like this in the world: people who neglect their families and think only of themselves. And in MoliÈre’s day, it wasn’t at all uncommon for young women to be callously married off to the highest (and probably oldest) bidder. Everyone delights when the hidden gold disappears and Harpagon turns to the audience and accuses the spectator of being the thief. In a way, we are guilty. We wanted the gold to be stolen, we know who did it, and we certainly aren’t telling.

Although most of the acting is well done, there are a few problems. …lise proves the most irritating character, either warbling her lines or speaking like a cat getting its tail pulled. Steven Epp manages to bring out the borderline schizophrenia that may explain some of Harpagon’s actions, but also reminds one of Woody Allen on a sugar high. There’s only so much of that you can take, and nearly three hours is overkill. The show is unnecessarily long, many scenes drag and a few jokes get old. Monsieur Jacques, the coachman/cook acting as though he has dual personalities was funny the first time, but not so funny the eighth.

With regard to the length: if you’re worried about having to sit through over two and a half hours of 17th century prose, don’t be. This is a highly tarted up adaptation by David Ball, made more accessible to a modern audience through the use of contemporary language, scatological humor and copious amounts of profanity.

Bottom line: Not an unequivocal success, but certainly not a failure. An interesting and enjoyable evening spent at the theatre, just so long as one is patient and doesn’t mind sitting for long periods of time.