‘A Flea in Her Ear’ is an offering of delicious escapism

In the two years and change since its debut, Constellation Theatre Company has built a reputation for stylized, expressionistic takes on plays either elemental and ancient (“The Arabian Nights,” “The Oresteia”) or dense and political (“The Good Woman of Szechwan,” “Temptation”).

The plucky troupe’s latest offering, an update of the century-old French farce “A Flea in Her Ear,” is something else, and it’s something else: sexy, frothy, contemplation-free escapism. Where Constellation’s prior efforts have often demanded we pry apart thick webs of allegory spun by Bertolt Brecht or Vaclav Havel, the dominant theme of “Flea” was best elucidated by the late-20th-century philosopher David Lee Roth: “Everybody wants some.”

Director Allison Arkell Stockman has set this production in Paris during the Jazz Age. Like a daring improvisation on a simple chart, Georges Feydeau’s script (in a recent translation by David Ives) riffs increasingly absurd permutations on its basic scenario: The wealthy Raymonde Chandebise tries to entrap her philandering husband, anonymously calling him out for a tryst at the discreet-in-all-things-save-its-name Frisky Puss Hotel. But Mr. Chandebise sends a lackey in his place. Unbeknownst to anyone, he’s also got a doppelganger. And the best friend Raymonde enlists to pen the invitation to infidelity (lest her husband recognize her handwriting) has her own hot-blooded, heat-packing spouse.

Wackiness, you will be relieved to hear, ensues.

Velocity is critical to the success of any madcap enterprise — especially one that dares detain us for the better part of three hours. Fortunately, the entire company hops in time with Stockman’s caffeinated tempo. Much of the cast comprises Constellation regulars, but the production boasts winning comic turns from two fresh faces: Michael Glenn as the unfaithful, unlucky Victor Chandebise, and Matt McGloin as his speech-impaired nephew. Both are seasoned performers, but the fact that they’ve not previously appeared with this ensemble adds resonance to their roles as the two characters most beguiled by Feydeau’s droll contrivances.

Several of the returning players get to do something different here, too. As Mrs. Chandebise and her co-conspirator, Katie Atkinson and Heather Haney both shed the severity of their recent parts for scheming entitlement. Frank Britton is a hoot as the Frisky Puss’ promiscuously butt-kicking proprietor. As Mr. Chandebise’s right-hand man, the equally lecherous Tournel, Joe Brack probably needs a masseuse to work over his eyebrows after a long evening of pinched-brow pantomime and oleaginous line readings. We mean that as a compliment.

As embroidered and thin as a lacy negligee, Constellation’s latest is an agreeable reminder that what happens on stage is like what happens in the bedroom: Just because it can mean something doesn’t mean it always has to.