The trouble with Matt Winn’s “The Trouble With Jessica” is clafoutis. Should the word prompt brow-furrowing or head-scratching, you are not alone — at least, that was the case for the audience with whom I watched Mr. Winn’s picture. The denizens of the posh British burb in which the movie takes place know their clafoutis back-to-front. Even the local bobby proves a connoisseur of the stuff.

This crustless French tart, traditionally made with unpitted black cherries and custard-like in texture, is a recurring motif in Mr. Winn’s farce about middle-class propriety, but not its hub: That would be the title character, played here by a statuesque Indira Varma. Jessica has authored a memoir of her misspent youth and it’s at the top of the best-seller lists, a randy and racy success. Who might be the unnamed innamorato mentioned in its pages? Inquiring minds want to know.

As do the quartet of friends whose dinner Jessica crashes on a tell-tale night. The hosts of this affair are a starchitect, Tom (Alan Tudyk), and his wife, Sarah (the pip-voiced Scottish actress Shirley Henderson). Their guests are a high-profile lawyer, Richard (Rufus Sewell), and his wife, Beth (Olivia Williams), who works as a counselor for battered women. It is with the latter couple that the nefarious Jessica tags along.

Why nefarious? Sarah will tell you as she pours herself an umpteenth glass of white wine: Jessica is an incorrigible flirt who has a habit of foisting her attention on Tom. Not too soon into the proceedings we learn that Jessica and Tom had a wild one-nighter on the day of their college graduation, the memory of which, notwithstanding the passing of decades, remains fresh. Ms. Varma has sly fun in the role as a temptress with a poor handle on her social graces. Rude she is, our Jessica, and unpredictable.

Which isn’t to say she doesn’t have, at the bare minimum, a plan up her sleeve. Upon arriving at the dinner party, we watch as she surreptitiously sneaks her memoir onto Tom and Sarah’s bookshelves. There’s a note inside of it, the discovery of which will occur later. Jessica dominates the get-together, making tasteless jokes and a slew of condescending remarks. Tensions build and Sarah, especially, is put out by Jessica’s behavior. Our protagonists step away from the table, hoping for matters to cool down.

When they reconnoiter, Jessica is nowhere to be seen. The two couples ultimately locate her hanging from a tree in the back garden. After some minutes spent in a bumbling attempt to revive her, Sarah comes up with a plan. No, it doesn’t involve calling the police, but, rather, disposing of the body. She and Tom, you see, have to sell the house due to severe financial difficulties and they have a buyer — one, Sarah worries, who might renege on the deal if he got wind of how a famous author committed suicide on the premises.

From this slim purchase, Mr. Winn’s plot turns from being a comedy of manners into a dry form of slapstick in which the best-laid plans, as well as the hypocrisies and begrudgements, of the haute bourgeoisie are put to the test by interlopers of one sort or another. Two jovial coppers show up a few times over, as does the next-door neighbor — a fan of Jessica’s book eager for an autograph. The deception of our protagonists is bumbled ever further before a sense of duty rears its ugly head.

Playing out like a distant cousin of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Trouble With Harry” (1955) and Martin Scorcese’s “After Hours” (1985), the buffoonery at hand is given verve by a capable cast that grounds what is, in the end, an entertainment with all the nutritional content of — no, not clafoutis, but cotton candy. There are better things than sweet and sticky; worse things, too. Should you be in the mood for wasting some time, “The Trouble With Jessica” is swift, snappy, and relatively guilt-free.