★★★★ Momme Domme is one of those Fringe experiences that doesn’t politely knock — it kicks the door in, drags you inside, and dares you to keep up. It’s chaotic, surreal, occasionally baffling, and absolutely determined to make you part of the spectacle whether you’re ready or not.
The show’s creator, Peggy Mitchell (Blemme Fatale), stalks the space in a white‑blonde wig, setting the tone as the unhinged architect of this strange universe . Around her, a rotating cast of characters orbit like planets in a system held together by sheer audacity. There’s SUB (Sam Hackney‑Ring), the man in the dog mask gleefully distributing tasks to unsuspecting audience members . CURATOR (Abby Witchalls) oversees the voting rituals with the calm menace of someone who knows exactly how much power she has in the room .
The ensemble is a Fringe microcosm of oddballs and archetypes:
- NELLY (Rachel Jackson), the football‑mad romantic who seems one bad decision away from disaster .
- EVE (Fern Russell), the posh blonde with lip‑sync skills sharp enough to cut glass .
- YARA (Natalie Punter), who snatches a wig, storms out, and returns like she’s in her own personal soap‑opera arc .
- XENA (Revathi Eswaran), the masked entrepreneur plotting her own party empire from behind a sparkly disguise .
Left: Revathi Eswaran. Right: Fern Russell
It’s a lot — intentionally. The show thrives on overstimulation, on the feeling that you’re watching a Fringe fever dream unfold in real time. But that ambition comes with rough edges. The script is dense, sometimes too clever for its own good, and could use tightening to help the audience follow the emotional through‑line. The sound system struggles under the weight of the chaos, and clarity occasionally gets sacrificed in favour of volume.
I also think the performance would have benefited from a clearer overall structure. With so many characters, tasks, and shifting dynamics happening at once, the show often felt like it was relying on chaos rather than guiding the audience through a deliberate arc. Even a loose framework built around recognisable categories — for example power‑exchange moments, sensation‑based segments, psychological or emotional beats, or audience‑driven decision phases — would have helped anchor the experience. These aren’t about making the show safer or tamer; they’re simply organisational tools that would let the audience understand what mode the performance is in at any given moment. A few defined transitions or thematic “chapters” would give the more experimental elements room to land with greater impact.
One thing that does shine is the backstage graft. Annabel Pearson, the sole stagehand, stage manager, and tech operator, is effectively holding the entire production together with grit and tape . You can feel the live‑wire energy of a show that’s still evolving — and that’s part of the Fringe charm. They’re clearly listening, adjusting, and shaping the piece night by night.
Momme Domme isn’t polished. It isn’t tidy. It isn’t trying to be. It’s a messy, loud, participatory experiment that will either delight you or leave you blinking in confusion — but you won’t forget it. If you’re up for something bold, bizarre, and proudly unrefined, step inside and let the madness wash over you.
Reviewed by Pat Harrington
