While fiction is often closer to reality than fact, rarely does Dada come within pissing distance of a coherent insight into sexuality and beauty. Unless of course Dada takes the form of a burlesque cabaret written and performed by a troupe who dare to sit absurdity down for a lap dance and forward handspring their naughty bits right into its face.

The Scandelles’ Who’s Your Dada?, written by Sasha Van Bon Bon is as much a tribute to the past masters of the avant-garde as it is a further skewering of their ideals. Over the course of two acts, Van Bon Bon wanders Through the Looking Glass–style into films, sketches, inventive dance routines, stripper (er, “striptease fitness athlete”) competitions, songs, animal outfits... you get it, it’s surreal. But with such an ambitious mix of kaleidoscopic media, clever sets and fantastic costumes, the close attention to creative transitions keeps it just on the coherent side of absurd. Hence, the most Dada concept of all: there’s actually a point to this absurdity.

Whether it’s Sasha wrestling to relieve herself into an anthropomorphized “R. Mutt” urinal, or a singing eyeball reuniting the Pixies “Debaser” with its Un Chien Andalou inspiration, the Dada Greatest Hits are front and centre, and weirder than ever. But that’s just the warm up. From here, Who’s Your Dada? gets patriotic, popping dancing Anne Shirleys out of suitcases and scaring the bejesus out of anyone with an aversion to meta-theatrical Can Lit by way of the dancing Daniel MacIvor Heads — three actors wearing expressionless MacIvor masks that possess a creepy painting-whose-eyes-follow-you-across-a-room quality.

Oh yes, the point: the problem with Dada is that it’s easy to get caught up in all the fun. But nestled in The Scandelles’ take on it, like a smiling face in so much cleavage, is a far more incisive and confrontational commentary on beauty and sexuality than all this romping about might suggest. The show suggests that watching Van Bon Bon peeing on stage or a cross-dressing cop going for strip-tease glory or an abundance of full frontal all around is no more absurd than any of the unhealthy obsessions, archaic conventions and unrealistic ideals that govern our daily lives — so why can’t we just sing Joel Plaskett songs and dance with stuffed animals? Who’s Your Dada? is full of images and ideas that you won’t easily forget, which is a remarkable triumph for a Dada cabaret in a sex-saturated world.