Love comes in all shapes and sizes. it manifests in all manner of ways; not all of them positive. Or romantic. It occurs between all sorts of people. Eclectic Sydney nightclub Slide‘s bold venture into a presentation of short plays, with dinner courses served in-between, is noteworthy for its challenge to the notion of what theatre is and how it can be presented.

Interestingly, there was precious little clatter and chatter; no mobiles chiming interruptions. In fact, there was less interference than in the conventional dramatic space. And thanks to ‘resident genius’ Marc Kuzma, the theatre extends to the imaginative, high-quality cocktails and cuisine, themed to correspond with the plays. So it’s a multi-dimensional theatrical experience.

Stephen Carnell presides over the stage, as artistic director and co-producer (with David McAmis), curating four very different works. By happy coincidence, Carnell stumbled across Melinda Schneider’s latest album, a collection of Doris Day songs. Since the first play is called The Doris Day Collection, he invited her to sing a couple of songs to get us into the swing of things. So, a little cabaret to boot.

Obsessive love can get a little too hot, even when that love is a patently gay man’s, for Doris Day. Despite the interventions and reasoning of a close friend, this man can’t be content with close encounters, six degrees of separation and what appears to be the world’s best collection of Dorisanalia. He simply must have the complete set, which includes 86-year-old Doris herself. But there is a surprising twist in the tale wrought by this comic mini-masterpiece, which takes an affectionate look at the stereotyped, if often endearing, theatricality of the homosexual male. It’s very well-written (by Robert Shaffron) as well as directed (by Dominic Stone), and exceptionally well-played by Valentino Arico, Jamie Harding and Kim Dickson (the last two by turns, depending on the evening you go). It’s the sort of play that coaxes a smile and keeps it there and one which works perfectly in this context.

The play after the refreshing crab and avocado entree wasn’t quite so easily digested; particularly after the odd champagne, vodka and cranberry cocktail. Joanna Erskine’s Bye-Bye Baby, directed by Alex Walker, features Fleur Beaupert, the prolific and versatile Renee Lim (Amanda Stephens Lee in Lim’s stead, on certain nights) and an empty cradle, where a number of children once slept. A rather confronting, non-judgmental examination of all the facets and demands of maternal love unfolds. Not many laughs here, which is okay, but it’s a dubious environment, on paper, for such a serious, almost forensic drama. Nonetheless, there’s no doubting it’s strong work, by all concerned, which probably deserves an outing elsewhere.

A triple-cheese souffle with heart-shaped millefeuille was an anachronistically delicate and romantic introduction to the robust and ribald Mummy’s Boy, by Daniel Hayward. Mummy is Sarah Loxley (or Amanda Stephens Lee; again, depending which night you happen along). She dotes on her teenage son who, unbeknowns to her clueless self, is gay. She has her own weakness for muscular men, with heads to match, but would never have guessed her new bloke, a footy coach, is bonking her boy as well as her. We know, because there are explicit scenes to that effect. Anal, oral; you name it. Yes, over dinner. It’s laudably provocative, not so much in respect of the simulated sex scenes, but in challenging perceptions of inviolably heterosexual machismo. Beyond that, it’s a little gratuitous, but well-executed and saucily entertaining (both blokes, Matt Hopkins and Aaron Nilan, are also good), thanks to David Koumans’ dab directorial hand.

In Kate Toon’s Sushi Wushi Woo, directed by Danielle O’Keefe, Libby Fleming and Renee Lim (or Fleur Beaupert, on other occasions), two women muse on strategies and tactics implicit to the modern dating game, discussing the perils and pitfalls, highs and lows, ins and outs. It’s played with relish by both actors, ho capitalise on the knowing recognition of the audience, just as the script intends. It’s eminently suitable fare for the venue, sliding down as well as the passionfruit sorbet in a chocolate box.

Slide, like Dinner With A View, is experimenting with new ways of presenting theatre. It’s not exactly radical, or subversive, as such. But it is worthy and intriguing.