Do not panic at the prelude to The Servant of Two Masters. They will start speaking English in a minute.

The newest Hilberry offering instantly plunges into the lighthearted goofiness of classic Commedia dell'Arte, as the supporting cast of clowns (all named Zany, rhymes with Yanni) gape out at the audience and then give officiously imbecilic etiquette reminders. It's both an efficient crash course in the style — "Hello, audience! We will frequently acknowledge your presence!" — and an example of director Lavinia Hart's resolve to pack ten pounds of comedy into a five-pound bag. The raucousness never lets up, similarly spilling over into intermission and curtain call; in its search for comedy potential, this production leaves no stone unturned.

It's difficult to confirm because they never hold still, but the Hilberry's repertory cast appears here in its entirety. Turns out, studying and performing together all year is the perfect incubator for a spectacular ensemble. To see a group play to each other's strengths is to never know which bits are off the cuff and which are tightly scripted: the former are done with extreme finesse, the latter with the spontaneity of new discoveries. In one of my favorite gags, a prop mishap brought the show to a halt, and the ensuing helplessness and panic was fodder for all kinds of new jabs. It's never clear where the script (adapted by James R. Tompkins from the Carlo Goldoni original) ends and the ad libbing begins — the actors' jokes are all over the map, sometimes as old as the form, at other times zingers quite close to home.

Our protagonist is the stock character Arlecchino (Jason Cabral), who secretly takes a second servant position, earning twice the floggings more often than twice the dinners. Dressed in a bright golden nod to the classic harlequin diamonds, Cabral has the energy of a toddler with a side of Jerry Lewis, demanding the audience's attention with big tumbling moves and tiny moments alike. The plot is amazingly easy to follow, given the number of characters and the crazy comedy setups: Women disguised as men! Mistaken identities! Telltale belongings switching hands! Arranged marriage! Liberal use of character asides helps keep the action moving and intentions crystal clear. Other standouts of the cast included the relentless histrionics of Loreli Sturm as the young Clarice, and Christopher R. Ellis as tightwad Pantalone, who sneaks and lurches around like a cartoon villain. The multitude of Zany giddily take focus between scenes, show up when additional bodies are needed onstage, and occasionally provide sound effects, lending integral support to the main event.

The program notes describe Hart's extensive research and preparation, including acknowledging Rick Carver for coaching the excellent physical stunt/tumbling work. Carver may be jointly responsible, with choreographer Nira Pullin, for the veritable orgy of flying dishes that closes the first act with a bang. Scenic design by Christopher Otwell features bridges that necessarily turn the aisles into the canals of Venice, and the actors use every inch of the space. Stage manager Don Hunter is doubly credited as a cast member — although it's impressive enough that he can even look up from the nonstop movement, he seems happy to join in the fun.

For audience members familiar with the form, or merely game for some precision bawdiness, the careful pacing and hits all over the comic spectrum are sure to entertain. However, the surprisingly long running time may make The Servant of Two Masters a tougher sell for others. I admit to finding no specific part worth excising, yet the gulf between the program's one-paragraph plot summary and the more than two and a half hours during which it unfolds is indicative of overall bloat. Regardless, the fine work of this ensemble is capable of coaxing laughter out of the stodgiest of matinee audiences — no knowledge of classical theater required.