Before closing its doors for renovations and temporarily moving its productions to other locations around town, Folger Theatre is ending on a light note with Aaron Posner’s The Merry Wives of Windsor, an entertaining Shakespeare rom-com set in the 1970s that’s as kitschy as mustard-colored macrame.

It’s 1972 and the women of Windsor are in charge. Though Sir John Falstaff has plans to simultaneously woo the married Mistress Page and Mistress Ford, the clever wives get wise to his game and devise their own tricks instead. Meanwhile the cheery but headstrong ingenue Ann Page intends to marry against both her parents’ wills. What ensues is one of the lowest-stakes Shakespeare plays with a plot so thin even the cast winks at it before taking the final bow.

This featherweight comedy serves as the ideal structure for director Aaron Posner’s production, which takes on the groovy vibes of ‘70s sitcoms like The Partridge Family and The Brady Bunch. With Merry Wives, the scheming is all in good fun and there’s a light-hearted lesson for everyone in the end.

Set designer Tony Cisek would have done the fictional architect Mike Brady proud with his triangular archways and stone columns. Lighting through Piet Mondrian-style panels moves scenes seamlessly from lime green living rooms to psychedelic forests. If one didn’t feel firmly rooted in the decade already, just glance at the artificial grass carpet covering the stage that’s just short enough to remain roller skate-friendly.

Nuance is not the aim of this production. The cast introduces the show with a bouncy, original theme song that ushers the audience into the era with a Donny Osmond grin. Costumes tread the line between accurate (Mistress Quickly wears both a diaphanous, powder blue cloak and a cream knit cape) and caricatured (Simple’s pairing of a colorful peace symbol tie with a bright orange button down looks like something plucked from a Party City clearance bin).

The same goes for Posner’s insistence on inserting ‘70s references throughout the Bard’s script. For Shakespeare purists like myself, it’s a sin to fiddle with that wit in order to emphasize a modern setting. In rare instances the contemporary quips enhanced the original text, “Have you received no promise of satisfaction at her hands?” is improved with a familiar Rolling Stones hook, but in most cases the references felt jarring.

Some actors navigated their characters through that time change well, while others fell into the chasm between the ERA period and the Elizabethan era. Brian Mani embodies Falstaff in all his paunchy charm, but despite a mop of shaggy hair, he feels like a traditional interpretation of the knight shoehorned into a corny sitcom.

Kate Eastwood Norris, on the other hand, excels, giving her Mistress Quickly a Fargo accent that transformed the nurse into a fun interloper reminiscent of the Brady Bunch’s Alice. Though I merely tolerated most of the ‘70s nods, I chuckled when Norris announced “Ah, tis the hustle!” before a brief dance break.

Norris is among the talented women anchoring “Merry Wives.” As Mistress Page and Mistress Ford, Regina Aquino and Ami Brabson, respectively, amuse with expressive gazes framed in blue eyeshadow. As Ann Page, Linda Bard gets some of the most feminist lines of the show as the determined daughter faced with a selection of disappointing suitors.

One of those suitors, Dr. Caius, is played with bubbling Gallic energy and hilariously constrained convulsions by Cody Nickell. Ryan Sellers, subbing in for Eric Hissom as Ford on press night, threw himself wholeheartedly into the role—and the garbage—as he sprinted throughout the theater in search of Falstaff.

The feminist message of Merry Wives is refreshing in the pussy riot age. Posner’s production isn’t here to say much other than women can concoct their own schemes that are amusing without being malicious. Like a good fondue, it’s super cheesy, stuck in the ‘70s and a treat.

The Merry Wives of Windsor runs at Folger Theatre through March 1. Tickets $27-$85. Runtime approximately two hours and 30 minutes with one intermission.