IF I could travel back in time, tell my 17-year-old self to stop being a prat, pick up that copy of Florian Zeller’s The Fascination of Evil and read it, I would.

But the Baccalaureate was looming large then; the curriculum was hefty enough and I had no time for my duplicitous French teacher’s late addition of the wretched novel to our reading list (optional but still) to broaden the class’s horizons.

He may have been the shiny new star of the literary scene, tipped for great things, but frankly I couldn’t give two figs about broadening my horizons. A nice A and place at university would do just fine, thank you very much.

So it is that my short-sightedness deprived me of Zeller’s works for more than a decade. Until last year, his award-winning play The Father landed at the Theatre Royal Bath. It's puzzling and multi-layered plot shook me to my core and I vowed to see, read, borrow, steal anything he had ever jotted down on paper, a napkin, you name it.

I was rather intrigued when the Theatre Royal announced an exclusive run of his latest play, The Truth. Branded as a light-hearted infidelity comedy, this was a far cry from the heart-rending tragedy that is The Father. But naturally Zeller’s critics were right all these years ago, whatever he turns his hand to – vaudeville-like farce, tragedy – he conquers with panache.

His latest offering directed for the British stage by Lindsay Posner starts simply enough.

Michel is having an affair with Alice, his best friend Paul's wife. For six months they have been meeting in hotel rooms for afternoon trysts. Alarmed by Michel's apparent indifference, Alice is struggling with feelings of guilt. Is it time for them to tell their partners the truth?

Zeller’s playful wit, gimlet-eyed observations and knack for flipping situations on their head turns a seemingly mundane concept into a delightfully intricate and unpredictable farce.

Frances O’Connor tackles sly Alice with flair, at times remorseful but an instigator and more than willing participant, for the most part. She leads Michel by the tip of the nose.

The true star, though incidentally least truthful (or is he?), is Alexander Hanson as wily Michel. Continuously gesticulating, he weaves such a web of lies, even he gets muddled up, dodging insinuations of guilt with increasingly far-fetched and incomprehensible tirades.

His ridiculous flights of indignation as the truth (or is it the whole truth and nothing but the truth?) rears its ugly head, hilarious attempts to bamboozle his wife, Laurence, as his unlikely story begins to unravel are simply brilliant.

In this game of cat and mouth, nothing is as crystal clear as it appears and we embark on a twisted adventure as characters walk the narrow line between deceiver and deceived. Surprisingly nuanced, fun, confounding and tight-paced, The Truth revisits the hackneyed infidelity plot and breathes modernity and mischievousness into the genre. A definite must-see.

The Truth Runs at the Theatre Royal Bath until Saturday 14.