Exit the King, Actors' Shakespeare Project, at Paramount Theatre, Boston, through October 8. 617- 824-8400 or www.emersonparamount.org

Few theatergoers would misidentify the work of Eugene Ionesco with that of Samuel Beckett and vice versa. Ionesco plays generally prove expansive in their appearance and effect- for example the deliberately escalating title furniture clutter of "the Chairs" and the purposeful animalization of transformed humans in "Rhinoceros."

Beckett plays characteristically involve small casts in fairly spare visual representation-among them, the ordeal-ridden wife and husband of "Endgame" and the memory and past-obsessed title solo figure of "Krapp's Last Tape."

By contrast, Ionesco's mortality-centered "Exit the King" moves from a fairly busy stage to one focused on the dying of the title monarch. Now Actors' Shakespeare Project is giving Berenger a royally fitting departure on the intimate grounds of the Jackie Leibgott Black Box at the Paramount Theatre.

The third and final part of the Berenger Trilogy, which began with ''Rhinoceros,'' "Exit the King" is set here in an elegant but ironically open construct-kudos to set designer Cameron Anderson-with an ornate chandelier above and a gold tinsel backdrop.

A bounty of gold colored balloons suggests a celebration, and the monarch's unassuming gold colored crown gives the impression of a birthday party. A young mic-bearing shirtless attendant wearing sunglasses, a black jacket, short pants and long boots occasionally makes an announcement for the king. Berenger may be 400 years old, but his strange demeanor resembles that of a child at one moment and a schoolboy at another.

At the same time, his curious attire featuring a colorful robe and pajama pants-credit costume designer Olivera Gajic-and a scepter that looks like an IV stand call to mind a hospital patient. Ionesco's own 1962 ailing clearly influenced his pre-occupation with mortality in the play.

Buffoonish Berenger is constantly attended or watched by a doctor, whose diagnosis is far from hopeful. The king may be in denial about his worsening rheumatism and deteriorating physical condition, but unsentimental ex-queen Marguerite quite candidly warns him that he will be dead in 90 minutes (in fact in real time in the play).

Young current wife Marie cries inconsolably about his medical state, but just as concerning is the spiraling damage to the universe wreaked by Berenger's self-absorption. A nightmare scenario finds Mars and Jupiter colliding and a polytechnic university ending up in a sinkhole. The delusional king seems as oblivious to such changes as Trump to climate change. Is Berenger suffering from dementia? Eventually the answer may be of less importance than the impact of his incompetence on those around him and around the world.

ASP guest director Dmitry Troyanovsky captures the dark humor and the accelerating tensions affecting the tyrannical ruler and his entourage in Ionesco's strong absurdist conception. Comically gifted Richard Snee smartly balances Berenger's thoughtless cruelty and his increasingly silly approach to both living and governing.

Snee richly calibrates the king's descent into dying. Sarah Newhouse has all of Marguerite's tenacity and wise stoicism. Jesse Hinson, in a brilliant example of gender-bending casting, finds all of Marie's emotional volatility as well as her self-serving histrionics. Dayenne Walters has understated authority as Berenger's doctor. Rachel Belleman as maid/nurse displays fitting strength and resourcefulness. Hunky Gunnar Manchester has the guard's loyalty and obedience.

All human beings, of course, will eventually confront death. Will they face their respective fortunes with dignity and grace? Ionesco may be providing both wake-up call and warning through his uncompromising portrait of selfishly grasping Berenger. Still ASP's properly surreal "Exit the King" makes intimations of mortality curiously alluring.