SLAY, at Theatre Works' Explosives Factory - 70 minutes

A contemporary comedic horror, SLAY challenges the patriarchy and looks to install feminists as the next legitimate Australian government.

Specifically, it focuses on an advocacy group known as SLAM (Society of Lesbians Against Men).

It is based on the conceit that for the world to survive, it needs to be led by lesbians.

Further, there is an agenda involving ABCMs, namely Anyone But Cis Men.

As the work – featuring the four actors who co-devised it, alongside director Steph Lee and dramaturg Sarah Iman – plays out, we learn about SLAM’s manifesto.

Its four pillars include education, running the government, creating the ideal society and enacting the revolution.

SLAM membership includes Ziggy (Raven Rogers-Wright), Jessica (Jackie van Lierop), Cora (Anita Mei La Terra) and Kiki (Louisa Cusumano).

They also enjoy getting together and playing games, like Smash, Marry, Kill and Smash or Pass.

Jessica and Kiki used to be a couple, but now Jessica has moved on to be with Ziggy.

While SLAM continues to push it anti heteronormative mantra (“no action is too drastic”), members of the group are being knocked off by a masked assassin.

Think someone dressed in a black loose robe with sparkling drop face head covering, popularised by Wes Craven’s 1996 film Scream.

So, who is responsible and why? Is the killer targeting SLAM’s extreme views or do they have another agenda or grievance.

The plot thickens.

SLAY is fun and fanciful – it delights in deliberately exhorting intense urgings and rebelliousness.

Inspired by camp horror, it unfolds through a series of often quick-fire vignettes, which include pop culture references.

Also, watch out for a delightful up tempo dance number, Maneater.

The endeavour combines live action with video footage and made-up social media references to delight an enthusiastic, primarily younger audience.

Put together by a group of emerging artists interested in using queer theatre to upend the status quo, it explores the representation of queer women.

It has been designed to push the envelope and therefore the views expressed are expressly over the top.

Humour can be a powerful tool, as it is here.

You may laugh, but the dominance of the straight male standpoint, especially in politics, can – indeed – be legitimately challenged.

The actors are on top of their game and the continuity between the numerous scenes that constitute the whole is impressive. Director Steph Lee keeps thing moving.

Dramatic music from sound designer and composer Jack Burmeister makes its mark from the get go.

Set and lighting designer Tom Vulcan’s proscenium arch is an effective device, as is faux blood splattered, clear plastic curtaining.

While I was amused by, and admire the creativity in, what I saw, if extrapolated surely society benefits from more inclusivity and a greater diversity of voices.

However, extremism with no compromise … hardly.