It’s too bad that adapter Robert Caisley didn’t go even further in his version of Molière’s Tartuffe. As it stands now, every time one of his updated characters speaks a line out of the current presidential campaign — about “tic-tacs,” “a nasty woman,” or the necessity of destroying emails — the audience roars with grateful laughter.

And why shouldn’t we be grateful? After one of the most appallingly ugly political contests in memory, where one candidate in particular insulted the moral principles of the electorate, and half that electorate continued shamefully to take him seriously, we can be forgiven for wanting some catharsis, some cleansing of our pent-up outrage. Only problem is, there’s not enough. For most of its length, Caisley’s adaptation is true to Molière’s 17^th century original with only the occasional unexpected reference to Clinton and Trump, along with cellphones, Twitter, and selfies. That’s not entirely a problem — any well-acted Tartuffe is still a delight — but oh, how lovely it would be to spend more than a few moments laughing the political filth out of our nervous systems. It’s been a crude and vulgar campaign, and we’re all the worse off for it.

But even if the American Stage Tartuffe doesn’t quite purge us of our electoral effluvia, it still cheers us with sharp performances, beautiful design and some electronic novelties. Leading a strong cast is the impeccable Ned Averill-Snell as Orgon, a man besotted by the piety he finds in the title character, and so eager to prove his devotion that he offers the charlatan his daughter and his fortune. Trying to bring Orgon to his senses is Kelly Pekar as wife Mira, an attractive, voluptuous woman who spends half her time fending off Tartuffe’s sexual advances and the other half trying to warn her clueless spouse that his hero is trying to cuckold him. Orgon’s daughter Maryann, portrayed with great comic brio by Abigail Cline, is disgusted by the idea of mating with Tartuffe, but her preferred love object Val, played ingenuously by J. Elijah Cho, doesn’t begin to have the smarts necessary to counter such a cunning rival. So everyone sooner or later turns to truth-speaking Dorine, the clever housekeeper portrayed by Georgia Mallory Guy, But even at her best, she can’t be much more than an odd voice of reason in an unreasonable household. Her job is made more difficult by Orgon’s mother Pernelle, acted crisply by Jan Neuberger, who’s convinced that Tartuffe is as genuine as he claims.

Ricky Wayne as the title swindler offers a problematic performance. Moliere’s satiric characters tend to be purposely two-dimensional — Orgon is all credulity, Pernelle all scorn, Mira all scandalized fidelity — and most of the actors in this production are happily cartoonish from first to last. But from the moment of Tartuffe’s entrance relatively late in the comedy, Wayne provides us with a more naturalistic, detailed performance that doesn’t quite jibe with the other characters. Molière writes Tartuffe as a monolithic personification of deceit, but Wayne gives him a host of complexities, of minor details and personal quirks, and he seems to come from a different theatrical universe than the others. Which is not to say that his portrayal is internally inconsistent. But I can think of one other Tartuffe I’ve seen, one so uncomplicatedly evil he seemed related to Count Dracula — and the performance worked wonderfully. Sometimes good satire demands less rather than more.

Jerid Fox’s set, on the other hand, is easily a success. Looking like the enclosed courtyard of an upscale house on the Tampa Bay side of Westshore Blvd., it features a small pool and a winding staircase leading up to an ample balcony. Frank Chavez’s fine costumes are all contemporary — the ratty terrycloth robe that Tartuffe wears in Act One is nicely countered by the fine suit he dons in Act Two — and one of the boldest of director Brendan Ragan’s ideas is to have digital photos, commercials, a newscast and other wired items appear on screens high above the set. It’s here that we first learn of a political candidate named Cannon, a candidate who will soon have to compete with one of our cast members. Adapter Caisley’s English version of the play is mostly in sparkling prose, but contains the occasional rhymed couplet in tribute to Molière’s French text.

As I write these words, the presidential campaign is almost over. It’s been a real slog through the muck, and I’m grateful that American Stage allowed me a few seconds of release. But it’s not enough; I want more. I want to laugh this campaign right out of the sewer.

I want to laugh till I don’t feel vile anymore.

Tartuffe

Three and a half of five stars

Through Nov. 20.

American Stage, 163 Third St. N., St. Pete.

Wed., 7 p.m.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m. and Sat.-Sun, 3 p.m.

$39-$49.

727-823-PLAY. americanstage.org.

This article appears in Nov 10-17, 2016.