Animals slowly unfolds like an utterly bizarre hybrid version of Hansel, Gretel and The Handmaid’s Tale. Dripping with inverted Orwellian-inspired newspeak and almost perverse slapstick humour, Animals creates a glittering dystopia that somehow executes its departure from sanity with grace.

Featuring cannibalism, zero-hour contracts and even a bubble-wrap jacket, Animals imagines a world that reduces humans to their economic value – their purely monetary input in society. This renders 77-year-old Norma and live-in carer Joy, who display perfect comic timing and a suspicious locked pantry door, legally useless. In typical dystopian fashion, life is regulated, words are controlled and acceptance into adulthood requires a test. In Maya’s case, a young character made charming by Milly Thomas, Adams gives her two options: either conform to the strict boundaries of ‘super fun memories’ and pink balloons, or become a ‘comfort girl’. Ageing is quickly stopped and, in an amusing touch, bureaucratised through the issuing of permits.

A darkly childish piece that in many ways pushes what is usually expected, I wondered whether Animals pulls off its comedy with enough maturity and subtlety. But then again, isn’t that the point? In many ways the childish absurdity is clearly delivered on purpose by Adams; the discomfort caused by watching Chase ‘snort’ white powder off the stage floor feeds into the warped and exaggerated expression of our society that Animals revels in. Is Adams taking an innovative approach by shamelessly embracing her subject matter, sexual innuendos and all, rather than skirting around the edges with a kind of pseudo-existential theatricality? While I did not always appreciate the ridiculousness of Animals, I couldn’t help but smile – it is nothing if not entirely engaging.

Animals is a rare piece of theatre that makes a statement whilst also embodying it. The casting depicts the ages in the play and thus maintains a sense of credibility absent in productions that either ignore the concept of age entirely, or mimic it with a sort of pathetic glamour. Chase in particular gives a loving performance, milking every second of her time on stage, whilst the relationship between Shimmin and Sidaway evokes a sort of fondness – that is, until their door is unlocked.

A dark satire, Animals is what happens when you leave the garden unattended. It’s messy, full of loose ends but adventurous, brave and oddly fascinating. Whilst it may occasionally slip out of its conceptual framework, and suffers from an eccentric Pacman soundtrack, I realised in true theatre fashion that this is its point. It is not a neat piece of theatre that connects all its parts with perfect precision; rather it is an exploration of societal pressures and humans running amok, running wild and behaving like animals.

Animals is playing at Theatre503 until 2 May. For tickets and more information, visit the Theatre503 website.