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Steve Martin may be "just a wild and crazy guy" with a penchant for the banjo and King Tut, but he also has morphed into a novelist and playwright; he even paints, but that's another story. And when a woman's droopy drawers accidentally drop in public, Martin helps a bunch of stiff shirts springs into action.

That is, unless he happens to be the pantyless woman's hubby Theo. The balding blowhard rants and rages in Martin's adaptation of Carl Sternheim's 1910 play "The Underpants," on stage through Sunday, Oct. 19, at the Olney Theatre Center.

Perhaps it's best to begin with the scantiest overview of this undies play. Theo may have married Louise, one of the prettiest frauleins in Dusseldorf, yet after a year of marriage, the low-level government worker knows his wife in the Biblical sense, but only once and it was on their wedding night. He has an excuse: They can't afford any little Theos running around their subterranean apartment.

What's worse, when Louise's tied-with-string underpants accidentally fall down at the King's Parade, Theo doesn't care about his wife's personal embarrassment. Instead, he worries about what people will say and if it will cause him to lose his job.

For those accustomed to hearing about the plight of a pantyless Britney Spears, it's hard to imagine how underwear the length of a pair of Bermuda shorts and as baggy as a rapper's jeans can be titillating. In today's vernacular, Louise maybe a just housewife, but she's also hottie. And when scandal erupts, she decides to cook something up and it isn't just the wieners burning in her oven.

Of course, double entrendres are at every turn and Martin knows sex sells, bringing down the house with phrases and gestures that might make Howard Stern fans proud; other folks would be more likely to blush.

Martin also pokes fun at the writing profession. Louise's suitor Frank Versati says, "I'm an unpublished poet, I'm proud to say," in offering his profession credentials. And when Louise's neighbor Gertrude drops by after seeing a play, she counsels her friend to "wait for the adaptation."

Amid all the bawdy talk, "This is a feminist play," insists "Underpants" director John (Jack) Going. Taking place just months before World War I, Louise spends her days cooking and cleaning in a dreary basement apartment. Like the caged canary stationed near her kitchen window, Louise hungers to be appreciated and OK, let's be serious, get passionate between the sheets.

The director sees this as the beginning of "women's lib." With the Industrial Revolution's need for labor, a woman's role was just beginning to change.

As an actress, McLemore isn't at all interested in the broader themes.

"Louise is looking for romance and wishes to be wanted. It is a human problem," she insists.

So when the hot housewife considers having an affair, McLemore is challenged to make sure she remains likeable. This girl is no floozy.

"I try to think about my character in three dimensions and show there are lots of aspects to her personality," she explains.

Louise certainly is devoted and dutiful as she chops carrots, sets the table, clears them away, scrapes scraps into the garbage pail and washes the dishes. Throughout the play, she offers a peek at the repetitiveness of her thankless duties and the dreariness of her life in the dark apartment, Going points out.

To make the couple's experience seem even more authentic, New York-based scenic designer James Wolk worked with Going to create an apartment with running water, a smoking oven and working light switches.

"A farce must have some reality in it," Wolk says. "We wanted to make it a little depressing, but still a comedy. Making it a sublevel apartment, with its restricted light and air, Louise is like the bird in the cage."

The audience may be laughing, yet Going knows that creating a comedy can be so much harder than a drama.

"It is technically complex, and it's all in the comic timing," he points out.

Naturally, the actors must nail each joke. Physical comedian Bruce Nelson has his work cut out, falling and flaying around the apartment. Playing a sickly barber attempting to hide his Jewish heritage by saying "My name is Cohen with a K," he accidentally slips into using a Hebrew or Yiddish words.

Then again, accidents do happen and when your underpants fall down it's best to just say "Chaim."

"The Underpants" starts at 8 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday; 7:30 p.m. Sunday except Oct. 19; 7:30 p.m. Tuesday, Oct. 7; and 2 p.m. Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday, except Oct. 8, in the Olney Theatre Center, 2001 Olney-Sandy Spring Road, Olney. Tickets range from $25 to $48. Discounts are available for groups, seniors and students. Call 301-924-3400 or visit olneytheatre.org.