‘70s, sex and death make ‘Corpus’ a kick

Morality.

Mortality.

Funny how the addition of one slim letter can so profoundly change the meaning of a word. Add that “t” and, suddenly, the name for a code of living becomes haunted by the specter of death.

“Habeas Corpus,” a 1973 comedy by the British writer Alan Bennett, hangs on these two words. A breezy satire about the sexual revolution then rattling middle-class morality, the show turned surprisingly poignant whenever it paused to consider the fear of death that caused its characters to stray from the straight and narrow path. At South Coast Repertory, a terrific revival of the play tickles and teases its audience into a better understanding of just how profoundly this fear -- of missing out on something good -- has influenced human behavior since Adam and Eve took that first, fateful bite of apple.

Chockablock with bungled machinations, outrageous coincidences and dropped trousers, “Habeas Corpus” is, essentially, a variation on that enduringly popular form of British entertainment: the sex farce. Its frenetic juxtaposition of sketch comedy, pop-culture topicality and doggerel poetry, however, seems to be an outgrowth of Bennett’s earlier involvement with the satiric revue “Beyond the Fringe,” the phenomenon he created and performed with Dudley Moore, Peter Cook and Jonathan Miller.

In America, a similar format characterized the smash-hit television show “Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In.” Director Bill Rauch invokes the spirit of that late ‘60s-early ‘70s program as he transports theatergoers back to an oh, so groovy time.

As the show begins, the central character, a general practitioner (Hal Landon Jr.), conducts impromptu physical exams along the front row of the audience. After one such inspection, he cheerily announces that the patient “is going to die. Not now, of course, but sometime

The doctor’s housekeeper (the inimitable Jane Carr) then seizes hold of the proceedings, turning them into a game show as she introduces the contesting characters. From there, the action forever changes tempo as it zips along, screeches to a halt or pleasantly meanders through plotted scenes, poems, songs and group dances (herky-jerky period choreography courtesy of Ken Roht).

The action unfolds in front of a huge Union Jack, symbolically rendered in shades of gray. In the foreground of Christopher Acebo’s set are a number of shag-covered islands, treacherous little mounds on which the performers, literally and figuratively, forever lose their footing.

The performers are at first drably dressed, but once the possibility of easy sex emerges, Shigeru Yaji’s costumes and parts of Acebo’s set burst into bright, often psychedelic colors -- a transformation that bespeaks a social revolution.

Lending texture are bits of period music -- hysterically cheesy renditions of such tunes as “This Guy’s In Love With You,” “Close to You,” “Game of Love” and “Georgy Girl.”

Rauch, the Cornerstone Theater Company cofounder whose expanding range of assignments included a similarly playful staging of “Lovers and Executioners” on South Coast Repertory’s smaller stage in January, has enormous fun with all of this, as do his actors, a lively mix of South Coast Repertory regulars and performers associated with Los Angeles’ anarchic Actors’ Gang.

The front-line performers include Caitlin O’Connell as the doctor’s wife, who is despondent about their passionless marriage; Christopher Liam Moore as their hypochondriac son, convinced he’s about to die; and Kate A. Mulligan as the doctor’s sister, who believes her flat chest dooms her to be unlucky in love.

Into this hotbed of repressed desire is dropped a bombshell: a tantalizingly beautiful 22-year-old patient played by Lynsey McLeod. All common sense is immediately erased from the minds of the middle-aged doctor and his immature son. Meanwhile, the wife and sister alternately fend off and pursue a cavalcade of doofus men played by Daniel T. Parker, Richard Doyle and Patrick Kerr.

Lynnda Ferguson, as the young patient’s fusty, aristocratic mother, shows up to bemoan the collapse of British values, and Phillip C. Vaden arrives as another patient, ready to hang himself by the noose draped around his neck.

Shouts of “Don’t touch me” ensue as everyone tries -- and often fails -- to live with gusto. Touching rapprochements follow until, finally, the doctor declares: “Dying you’ll grieve for what you didn’t do. / The young are not the innocent, the old are not the wise; / unless you’ve proved it for yourselves, / morality is lies. / So this is my prescription: grab any chance you get / Because if you take it or you leave it, / you end up with regret.”

*

‘Habeas Corpus’

Where: South Coast Repertory, Segerstrom Stage, 655 Town Center Drive, Costa Mesa

When: 8 p.m. Tuesdays through Fridays, 2:30 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 2:30 and 7:30 p.m. Sundays

Ends: Nov. 21

Price: $19 to $56

Contact: (714) 708-5555 or www.scr.org

Running Time: 2 hours, 10 minutes

Jane Carr...Mrs. Swabb

Hal Landon Jr....Arthur

Lynsey McLeod...Felicity

Christopher Liam Moore... ...Dennis

Caitlin O’Connell...Muriel

Richard Doyle, Lynnda Ferguson, Patrick Kerr, Kate A. Mulligan, Daniel T. Parker, Phillip C. Vaden...additional characters

Written by Alan Bennett. Director Bill Rauch. Set Christopher Acebo. Costumes Shigeru Yaji. Lights Geoff Korf. Choreographer Ken Roht. Composer/musical director/sound Paul James Prendergast. Stage manager Randall K. Lum.