Laura Ward’s new, ambitious, bilingually titled Enredaderas: Entanglements opts for excess at every turn. The piece ranges from archly naughty vignettes that evoke long-ago Parisian music halls to scenes of a nastier eroticism inspired, perhaps, by a hasty reading of Story of O. It boasts an elaborate installation by Judy Thomas, who favors the rakish and colorful; impudent outfits by a slew of folks; music both live and canned, plus occasional spoken text. It argues that any body, even the plump Munchkin type, can look swell doing the moves of classical ballet. It lacks only eloquent choreography. Ward, a handsome, majestic woman, seems to see herself as outlandish, dangerous, and magnificent. Her own solos meld ballet, gymnastics, and much else picked up in the course of her variegated training to promote that image, and are the show’s most sincere element. The rest of the stuff looks simply like overstimulated, overdecorated fooling around.