Alice and Michel must conceal their affair from possibly suspicious spouses Paul and Laurence, sometimes under detective level interrogation. Florian Zeller’s The Truth is a modern French farce that adds to the form’s physical comedy a metaphysical dimension about whether accuracy and veracity are possible or even sensible. Across seven scenes, each featuring two characters, alibis overlap and contradict. Lies may be a tactic to expose truth and vice versa until the plot twists into a double helix of deceit.

The Truth has an epigraph from Harold Pinter’s Betrayal, the guvnor of adultery dramas, and is consciously a Parisian gloss on the 1978 play’s London uncouplings. Michel and Paul, like Pinter’s Jerry and Robert, are more faithful to their friendship than their marriages and there are similar conversational slips over who knows what and from whom, although for Betrayal’s competitive metaphor of squash Zeller substitutes tennis – match scores becoming another dispute about reliable records.

Lindsay Posner, director of this West End production, staged The Truth’s English-language premiere at the Menier Chocolate Factory in 2016. At that time, David Cameron was approaching the end of a Brexit-truncated premiership that has been followed by five other tenuous tenancies while reality TV star Donald Trump was on the campaign trail. After a decade of political alternative realities and cultural deepfakes, The Truth feels timely for revival.

Translator Christopher Hampton is a one-man theatrical entente cordiale, his versions of Pierre Choderlos de Laclos’s Les Liaisons Dangereuses and Yasmina Reza’s Art recently revived at the National and on Broadway. The Truth, one of his seven Zellers, is made seat-shakingly funny by four fabulously fibbing performers.

Stephen Mangan’s charming narcissist Michel hilariously rises and falls like a souffle. As Alice, Sarah Hadland smartly handles the part’s complex concealments and Janie Dee’s Laurence, cool as an examining magistrate, aces the moment when she has to reverse the meaning of a scene with one look. Ardal O’Hanlon makes Paul an enjoyable combination of bluff and tough. Lizzie Clachan’s interlocking set smoothly moves between chic bedrooms, living rooms and locker rooms.

In 2017, Posner directed Zeller’s (unfaithful) companion piece, the darker and less farcical The Lie, in which a foursome with the same names and relationships trade falsehoods and the dramatist doubles down on the proposition that factlessness is tactfulness: “Whatever they claim, people don’t really want to be told the truth.” Let’s hope the same cast in the sequel lies ahead but, for the moment, The Truth is joyous summer fun. Honestly.