Talk about hot. This is a spectacular queer mash-up of martial arts and blaxploitation theatre and film with vampires thrown in for good measure. Nathania Bernabe stars and directs a cast whose movement and combat skills are right off the wow! scale. And these kids can act.

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The show features a dozen major fights, each sensationally choreographed, with Jarelle Hepburn, Eryka Alanna and Jordan Svenkeson playing various baddies. They fight with swords, sticks, hands and feet. It’s breathtaking to watch them up close, and amazing that no one gets hurt.

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Bernabe is fabulous, riveting in both her physical work and Dewdrop’s journey from weak girl to Samurai superwoman. Ticzon’s Cert is a riot.

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The filmed flashbacks are as impressive as the stage work, and the hip hop soundtrack is mesmerizing.

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A smart, crazy, engaging script with remarkable production values, superbly performed and directed, this must-see show deserves a regular season run at the Cultch.

4.5 stars out of 5 BY JANET FRENCH

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Vancouver-based Affair of Honor describes itself as a “fight and movement-based theatre and performance company,” and these actors have serious skills — fencing, sparring and wrestling around the stage convincingly during their numerous conflicts. Bernabe and Hanlin must be wickedly fit to keep the intensity up for the 90-minute show.

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As smooth as the fight choreography is, the production is equally committed to strong

acting, along with a bold message about society’s expectations of women.

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“Look at us,” Bonny says to her frienemy, Read. “We don’t fit the mould, no matter how hard you squeeze.”

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Come for the action, then imbibe the delicious feminism.

Affair of Honour’s production of Karen Bassett’s drama Heroine opens in a desolate atmosphere in the aftermath of a pirate battle, which left me feeling trapped and terrified from the start. Suffice it to say that I was — if you’ll pardon the pirate pun — hooked.

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Vancouver-based actors Jackie T. Hanlin and Nathania Bernabe captured my attention with phenomenal performances, playing foils so vivid they could both sustain a one-woman show. Yet put together, it’s their chemistry that brings life to the static prison setting.

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A dozen finely choreographed sword combat sequences elevate both the drama and comedy in Heroine. Each act is broken up by action sequences that showcase innovative lighting and sound design. Still, director Mayumi Yoshida chooses to strip away these elements at times to let raw trauma emerge from the characters.

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Between hilarity and tragedy, every moment of Heroine is electrifying. Even without its masterful orchestration of design, choreography, and acting, the words that craft this story are enough to convey the battle of being human — and woman — with painful honesty.