For four years or so, the Chronos Theatre Group has built a reputation presenting, in various venues around town, staged readings of rarely offered works, mostly classics from a world of cultures. Now they’ve teamed with another small company, Talent to aMuse, for a full-dress production of Italian playwright Carlo Goldoni’s 1750s comedy “The Coffee Shop (La Bottega del Caffé).”

It’s from Goldoni’s so-called Golden Period, when he was churning out plays at a Stephen King pace while changing Italian theater comedy from its emphasis on the physical and improvisational commedia dell’arte to a more structured and naturalistic style usually spoofing the foibles of the middle and upper classes.

The setting is Venice in the mid-18th century, when — as director Celeste Innocenti points out in her notes — coffee shops were the rage and the pre-Lenten spirit of Carnavale expanded to cover most of the year. In short, Venice was a combination of Seattle and Las Vegas. The play’s java joint is situated between a casino and a barbershop, above which lives a woman who says she’s a ballerina but who appears to enjoy the company of many men.

The comings and goings to her apartment preoccupy Ridolfo, the coffee shop proprietor, and his staff and patrons, particularly Don Marzio, whose unrestrained and injudicious tongue has won him the nickname of the “town trumpet.” Another regular is Eugenio, who’s unlucky at the casino but lucky with the ladies, to the consternation of wife Vittoria. Toss into the mix a supposed count who’s wooing the “dancer,” a pilgrim who’s come to seek her husband, and the casino owner who’s accused of cheating, and you have a frothy brew of deception and double-dealing.

Marzio’s mouth, of course, is the straw that stirs this drink. His propensity for tattling, which he considers truth-telling, causes trouble for everyone and adds to his general unpopularity, like with his attempts to woo women by offering them some “dried chestnuts” (Goldoni’s wink, wink).

As typical in such fare, proceedings get off to a slow start as characters and their problems are introduced, frequently explained in Ridolfo’s asides to the audience. Complications naturally ensue, perking up the pace and action, then heading to a finish that leaves almost everyone happy. But not the infelicitous Marzio, who remains baffled as to why he’s disliked.

That justly maligned blabbermouth, who can even blather with lather on his face, is portrayed by George Weinberg-Harter with a ruddy gusto and snorting pomposity. Innocenti, who also does the translation and direction, creates a lively Vittoria, brassy as her hair. Timothy Paul Evans is a helpful Ridolfo, and Harrison Myers, as one of the coffee-shop servers, makes the most of his minor part.

Innocenti’s translation seems generally textbook, with a few modernisms like “nutcase,” “pissed off” and “I shoulda stuck to show business.” Her fast-and-loose direction allows for a mélange of dialects and frequently has the cast heading into, or coming from, the audience and a screened side area, expanding the playing area much beyond the stage and Charles Wallace’s efficient set, which manages to comprise three storefronts and a side table. Gail West’s costumes, designed by Innocenti, are colorfully appropriate, although the hats didn’t always fit well with the wigs. Marie Miller’s lighting did its job.

Finally, maybe it’s just me, but the general vocal level seems such that those floor mikes, around the edge of the stage in Jason Connors’ sound design, are unnecessary.

Cast and credits