Fiends are not made in a day. No, it might take years of overbearing mommy-coddling, along with an inflated sense of entitlement and at least a few rotten role models.

Check, check and check for Nero, the Roman emperor generally regarded by history as an excessive tyrant. Jean Racine’s 17^th century tragedy “Britannicus” looks at Nero on the cusp of cruelty, a monster in the making. Racine’s study of deficient family values, translated by Howard Rubenstein, is now in a hit and miss production at Compass Theatre.

By the time we catch up with Nero, the young ruler has recently been installed on the throne through his mother Agrippina’s machinations – which probably include mariticide. Much of the play concerns the battle for power between mother and son. Nero, who has up until this point ruled from the underside of Agrippina’s thumb, now squirms to get free by wresting away her power and, like a rebellious teenager, asserting his independence through unruly behavior.

Indeed, Rich Carrillo’s Nero is a petulant brat; a man-boy determined to make his own decisions yet crushed by the weight of their consequences. The alternately humorous, creepy and intense psychological skirmishes between Carrillo and Glynn Bedington as the conniving Agrippina form the play’s best scenes.

Nero kidnaps the fiancé of his stepbrother -- and rightful heir -- Britannicus. But when he gets a gander at the beautiful Junia, Nero falls madly in love. Or maybe it’s more like lust with a tinge of jealousy, brotherly competition and a heaping of resentment – he regards his own marriage (to his step sister!) as less than desirable, while Britannicus and Junia are in love.

At any rate, he’s got a choice to make: Take by force what he desires, or set things right.

If his historic reputation is any indication, you know which path he chooses.

Nero’s indecision and lack of moral backbone allows him to be too easily influenced by others. His advisers, Burrus and Narcissus, represent the proverbial angel and devil perched on either shoulder. Neil McDonald is upright as the moral Burrus, while Dale Morris’ unctuous Narcissus is slippery but should be more persuasive.

Britannicus and his would-be wife, meanwhile, are mostly innocent pawns in the manipulations of others. Bayardo de Murguia is earnest and naïve as the artless Britannicus, who poses little to no real threat to Nero. Jenna Selby creates the character of Junia in looks and gestures, and spends much of the production looking frightened.

Renee Gandola, Anthony Gordon Hamm and William Parker Shore fill in mostly as stage-dressing, in the roles of nonspeaking guards and servants, and also serve as understudies.

In some ways the production feels reductionist. The characters as portrayed are largely archetypes. Nero’s “seduction” of Junia consists of a few minutes of pawing at her unconvincingly, before he takes a more forceful, manipulative tack. And there isn’t much sense of struggle between good and bad in Nero – we are told that he has been an honest, decent and beloved ruler, but we get no sense of this in him, only slight resistance to a full blown cross to the dark side. The production could use some refinement in these areas.

Program notes indicate that playwright Rubenstein aimed to make his translation of the classic French play accessible. In this he succeeds. Although the back story of familial relations and political intrigues is perplexing enough to warrant a flow chart, Rubenstein has crafted, for the most part, a sturdy, practical and at times poetic translation.