by Christopher Soden

Slasher’s a wily, clever play, seeming to make sport of matriarch Frances McKinney but vindicating her in the end.

Allison Moore’s Slasher (presented by Kitchen Dog Theater at the McKinney Avenue Contemporary) is a feminist satire on what may conceivably be the most misogynist genre of pop culture entertainment. Not always, but often, slasher films feature attractive, well-endowed women who are summarily stalked, terrified, tortured, and degraded by a knife (or axe, or cleaver, or spike...) wielding psychopath who more or less embodies the male erotomania lurking in the American populace at large. Halloween may or may not have been the first of that genre, but you didn’t need to watch carefully to notice that only the intelligent virgin was spared, while the “sluts” were sacrificed to a maniac who was forever tainted after witnessing his older sister’s “moral turpitude.”

Sheena, the protagonist of Slasher, is a college coed living in a dysfunctional household with an invalid mother and scholarly younger sister, still in grade school. All three are very well educated and sharp. The mother, Frances, is a very vocal critic of patriarchal oppression, left embittered and disenabled after a mistaken act of altruism made her the object of scorn. She may be confined to a wheelchair, but she’s still filled with rage and cynicism. Sheena works at a guy dive called Busters (after Hooters) to help pay the bills, but nonetheless is an affront to her mother’s feminist sensibilities. Mama’s not crazy about Sheena working for substandard wages, only to be ogled by clueless troglodytes, but Sheena figures you do what you must.

As luck would have it, Sheena’s pulling her waitress shift when Marc Hunter, a notorious director of grisly, inane, and exploitative splatter films, has stopped there for a business lunch. Jody Joshi, a resourceful film techie still looking to make his chops, is pitching to Hunter when Sheena arrives with her tray. The crucial role of “last girl” has been vacated and Hunter has (unbeknownst to public, cast, and crew) mortgaged his home for this latest film project, set to begin shooting in Round Rock, Texas, day after tomorrow. Sheena’s appearance strikes him as a Godsend, and after demonstrating her impeccable ability to scream, they start negotiating details.

Slasher’s a wily, clever play, seeming to make sport of matriarch Frances McKinney but vindicating her in the end. Rolling repeatedly through a portal that could suggest a tunnel, hymen, or underground lair (in a silhouette reminiscent of Norman Bates’ mom) she raves and moans and pontificates while daughters Hildy and Sheena breathe another deep sigh. Like an aging protester left over from the '70s, she has valid points to make, but they’ve heard it all before. Frances may have her delusions, but (true to satirical form) she’s isn’t the only one. Also true to form, the show’s incidental rhetoric processes better after we’ve left the theater. The idea, first and foremost, is laughter, and the plot itself evinces like a slasher film. Director Tina Parker achieves the precarious balance between deadpan spoof and parable with accuracy and a keen sense of tone.

Set Designer Clare Floyd DeVries has fashioned a gloomy, looming milieu, complete with chains, instruments of torture, and enormous cartoon depictions of a voluptuous victim and her masked predator. Combined with Lighting Designer Suzanne Lavender’s impressive use of strobes, flashes, and other effects, the chill factor is amped exponentially. Playwright Moore has been careful to keep the blood and mauling to a minimum but the epiphanies are clear and salient, if somewhat harried. Watching Jody lumber in that repugnant, ridiculous mask, the sheer ludicrousness of the situation hits you, snapping you out of the trance often created when watching a frightfest.

Leah Spillman, versatile as ever, takes on eight (count them) eight different characters, ranging from carhop to news anchor to Christian Fundamentalist Commando with her own special knack for cynical spin. Flourishes and details she embellishes her characters with will tickle you mercilessly. Rebekah Kennedy (astonishing in last season’s The Pillow Man) is excellent and adept as younger daughter, Hildy.

Martha Harms is well cast as Sheena, who must be practical in light of her family’s economic situation. She may be disingenuous but she’s also savvy enough to work the system. Drew Wall has excellent instincts as Jody the film assistant. Wall has a gift for comedy, both physical and intellectual, and for playing the guy we can all relate to, hustling to make his own luck. Whatever the role he always makes a notable contribution to the show. Lisa Hassler carries the heaviest burden as Frances McKinney, the floundering mother determined to rescue her daughter from exploitation and diminishment. Hassler manages the caricature sympathetically and with great humor, reminding us that after all, mama’s the hero of this story.

Christopher Soden is a theater critic who also writes for content partner The Column.

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