As a rule, it seems, Sarah Ruhl's plays don't observe the laws of time and space. So the gifted playwright's latest work, "In The Next Room, Or The Vibrator Play," provokes both head-scratching and much laughter. While this one's not her best work, there's no denying it's an original.

In the late 19th century, the wiring of homes for electricity sparked whole new ways of thinking about science and medicine. Dr. Givings treats women for so-called "hysteria" in the next room from the parlor, where his wife, a new mother, spends her days alone and bored out of her mind.

Mrs. Givings can't help but notice the strangest sounds coming from the treatment room, and every time patient who emerges seems happier and refreshed. What she can't see is that her husband is using a vibrator to calm their nerves, and these sexually-repressed Victorian women who have never experienced such sensations before are instantly hooked.

The plot is rooted in historical fact. Doctors did indeed make use of vibrators as a therapeutic tool and, strange as this sounds to our modern ears, it was entirely unsexual. What none of these characters can fully understand however, is that the machines are awakening their sexuality. In particular, Mrs. Givings finds herself craving an intimacy that has been lacking all her life.

The vibrator treatment scenes are predictably funny, most especially when a male patient arrives. But as characters wander in and out of Ruhl's overstuffed story, it short-circuits from a lack of focus. The hodge podge of themes -- science vs. emotion, lust vs. love, convention vs. individualism -- seem to cancel each other out. When the play takes a fantastical turn at the end, viewers can only guess at the ultimate meaning.

Moment to moment, given the novelty of the topic and Les Waters's first-class production on that beautifully detailed set, one can almost excuse the flaws. All the performances are strong as well, though Laura Benanti's contemporary line readings sound jarringly out of place.

The play certainly demands one's attention, although it's bound to stimulate far more questions than answers.