Reviews: Hollywood Fringe Fest "The Mysteries of Persephone" & "F*cking Famous"
- ThomM
- Jun 24
- 10 min read
Updated: Jun 24
Two Hollywood Blvd. standouts grace the stages of Fringe this week. A fanciful, time-jumping, reimagining of the Greek myth and a solo-performed, searing portrayal of an ego-fueled music pop star gone bat-shit crazy...meaning, even crazier than the others.
Immersive Scene Los Angeles 2026 Reviews
The Mysteries of Persephone
Whether you’re terrestrial, time-hopping from 2026 Los Angeles to ancient Greece, or taking the next underground step - a plunge into Hadean hell - this inventive, multi-room reimagining of Zeus’ missing, flower-loving daughter offers a captivating story, excellent up-close performances, and more interactive activities and challenges than you’ll find in most immersives you’ll encounter at Hollywood Fringe or anywhere else.
Most people vaguely know the story of Persephone: Greek goddess of flowers and spring, daughter of the Big Z and Demeter, her goddess mother who controls Earth’s seasons. Dad made a spectacularly bad call and sent his daughter off to the underworld to marry his brother Hades - oh boy - and Mom, understandably angry and heartbroken, has responded by turning the earth barren. And you thought your mood swings were bad. Thus begins Demeter’s endless search for her child, and also where The Mysteries of Persephone more or less kicks off.
For the next hour, this Fringe journey has you solving puzzles, performing rituals, confessing your faults to the gods, sipping a potion, singing a few songs, and continually working together as a search team to help the barren-ess locate the soon-to-be bride before it’s too late. The denouement happens several flights below the ground you stand on now, where the story really heats up.
The adventure starts pre-show in the lobby where we’re greeted by Hekate (Nikki Carnarius). Free to travel between the underworld and earth, and a pleasantly informative conversationalist to boot, she’s our first guide this evening. She hands out the “hot off the presses” latest issue of The Underworld Quarterly, some starter reading to prep us for the journey ahead. Don’t miss the profile on the underworld’s most eligible bachelor; and don’t worry ladies this guy from hell doesn’t come with horns, that’s the other one from Abrahamic religions. Vanishing as effortlessly as she arrived, Hekate is replaced by Triptolemus (Rex Blue), but we can just call him Trip, because we’re still in L.A. 2026 after all. Trip’s soulful presence and mellow manner are calming, though there’s worry in his eyes: Persephone has been kidnapped by the netherworld's landlord, Hades, to become his bride. Guess that bachelor is off the market.
Trip, our Greek troubadour, yep, he’ll play guitar for us during the immersive adventure needs our mortal assistance to bring the young goddess home before she says “I do,” because otherwise there’ll be no flowers for anyone come Mother’s Day. He quickly dispenses mourning shawls, and with heads covered, we’re escorted to ancient Greece – conveniently located just across the hall – where we find ourselves at the threshold of a historic temple, circa 1000 BC.
After a Trip ballad (“Dead Flowers” – well played and well played) and an easy-ish group starter exercise that proves even the puzzle-challenged among us, meaning me, are worthy of entrance to the Homeric Hymn, we’re ushered inside. There before us stand three representations of the gods we seek, all frozen in stone: Persephone (Avery Moore), Hades (Shreyas Raman), and one famously reported ticked-off mama bear, Demeter (Lindsay Pierce). These statues hold crucial clues to the mystery before us, but we must find a way to coax the silent stone deities to life if we hope to learn more and move forward.
After more puzzle-solving, potion-mixing, and audience-bonding, and only after bravely or foolishly admitting our personal life mistakes to these total strangers-turned-statues, they magically transform to life, each revealing an unexpected human side to their legends. In this romanticized version of the myth, Persephone’s statue confesses she actually loves Hades and wants to marry him - kidnapping aside. Hades’ brought-to-life stone version insists he’s not such a bad guy, he’s just a victim of bad press. And Demeter’s temple manifestation swears she’ll let the earth rot for all eternity if her daughter isn’t saved. No pressure on us searchers now. So, how can everyone get what they want? It’s going to be hell. Speaking of which, that’s the next stop. And it’s where we’ll meet the flesh-and-ichor* real gods as they attempt to resolve their earth-scorching differences with our mortal help.
Based on the Eleusinian Mysteries, with plenty of modern-day embellishments - including a Hawaiian-garbed wedding officiant, aka Dionysus (Sheaffield Ferrer), who appears to have stepped straight out of a Kona Beer commercial - The Mysteries of Persephone is an original hoot, especially for audience members who are interactive in nature. And in Hollywood at Fringe, that’s pretty much everyone.
This slyly crafted piece of moving theatre, respectful of yet smartly never taking its mythic inspiration story too seriously, is, at heart, a family-dynamics, comedic-leaning tale with a quietly revealed message of female empowerment. The messages land without heavy-handedness; instead, abundant humor and a chill, inviting vibe permeate the experience as you absorb the deeper subtextual elements.
Everyone in attendance becomes part of the odyssey, taking as active a role as they choose in helping the group solve its way toward the netherworld. Wait, what? Persephone, in this iteration not-surprisingly embraces the modern-day retelling: sure, the earth may have opened up so that a hell-bent Hades could pluck her for marriage, but it turns out she really digs this misunderstood guy, mother be damned. Maybe the real conflict lies with a domineering parent who won’t allow her child the room she needs to grow.
Big Spoiler alert! Earth survives and Persephone gets both her springtime and her man. She’ll just have to split seasons between hell and Athens like a mythic snowbird shuttling from New York to Florida. And bonus points: Mom approves. Best not to cross a goddess who controls the harvest.
Part family drama, part comedy, plenty of heart, a touch new-age messaging, and a heady mélange of styles and references — from classic Greek theatre to escape rooms to summer-camp singalongs and perhaps even to The Bachelor — the show delivers its quirkily fulfilling narrative without apparent limitations. Credit goes to creator Nikki Carnarius and co-writer Paula Massingill for successfully wrapping an ancient myth in 21st Century realism. There’s certainly a wink and nod just under the surface, but also genuine empathy for its characters. You’ll actually care about someone, if not all of them, getting what they need. And like the audience itself, these gods just want a little happiness at the end of the day. Cue Trip with “Let the Sunshine In” as we’re sent back up to Mother Earth.
Credit to the entire cast for their work across the story's strata – from modern L.A. to ancient Greece to the place where the sun don’t shine…not that place, the other one. Hell. Sorry, the underworld. This is the Greek one. Each performer had time to find their moment, with the standout at our show being Blue as Trip, who had a plateful of duties along with his understated acting. He guided us, led us in tasks, sang beautifully, and offered a genuinely felt moment near the end when he took us through a breathing exercise and a message about self-belief and not letting the negative forces in the world affect us - even when stuck on the 405. Okay, I added that last part.
As Persephone, Moore blends an earthy presence with a just-learning-to stand-in- her-own-truth quality that makes her Persephone far more than just a damsel in need of rescue. In the end, she rescues herself.
Pierce’s portrayal of Demeter is spot-on as she balances the whole angry goddess fury with the concern of a mother who just wants her daughter to come home. Any parent who’s ever watched their kid fall for the wrong person can surely relate.
If there’s any flaw in the character writing, it’s that the role of Hades is somewhat underdeveloped. Sure, he’s not the fire breathing demon we know from later religious beliefs, but he did kind of steal somebody and drag her to his dark domain. Here he’s mostly just a stoic dude in love. Giving him more of an antagonist arc, a bit more edgy attitude, at the top anyway, would have been the ticket. Even so, Raman plays the underwritten role well with quiet conviction.
Costuming is whimsical and effective, and the sets are impressive – especially the temple design – and the fireplace in hell is a nice touch too. All tech elements, particularly the lighting design, are executed solidly.
Fringe shows often face the challenges of shared environments, so all the more credit to the creative team for maintaining their world so fully within a busy performance venue hosting multiple, often overlapping productions. I didn’t see the other shows that were all too near Persephone, but we certainly heard them. Even so, Carnarius’ engaging script and tight direction, along with her team’s unified focus, keep the ride so engaging that ambient noise never takes you out of the story at hand. As a proponent of immersive and interactive work being presented at its best, I can easily imagine this show thriving in a dedicated space in a future iteration.
Whether you love myth or mirth - or both - you’ll likely have a blast at this inventive, quite unique follow-along. Immersive Scene Los Angeles certainly did. Now…back to the real world. Or, how about just down the block to another Fringe offering.
*Look it up. I did.
Remaining Dates: June 25, 26 and 27 at Second Place Studios 6560 Hollywood Blvd., L.A.
part of the Hollywood Fringe Festival immersive and very interactive show
F*cking Famous
One thing is immediately clear when pop star Molly Sharpe takes the stage for the L.A. stop on her F*cking Famous tour: something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. Disheveled and bleeding from several gaping body wounds, the iconic singer is still determined to perform her bombastic, cheesy, egotistical – and, by the way, quite hilarious – sugar-meets-vinegar anthems for her adoring fans in attendance.
That fawning audience of sycophants – let’s call them Sharpies - of which you can now include yourself, are always there for her, especially on this tragic yet somehow really cool night to help her get through the concert and her numerous, well-practiced Instagramable poses. Sure, her band is absent (more on that in a moment). Sure, her body is literally shutting down in real time. Sure, her already bitterly scathing lyrics have an extra bite tonight. But one thing is for damn sure: nobody stops a diva with a million social followers…who also happen to have a million smart phones perpetually recording her every move.
The show must go on! Pass the medical bandages and keep the Diet Cokes coming.
Mining a motherlode of pop references and clearly keeping more than a few platinum-selling world-killers in her crosshairs, Molly Sharpe the performer creates Molly Sharpe the vanity-case songstress in this outrageous, one-woman showcase. The former only has to watch the charts, Coachella, or perhaps a police lineup to find inspiration. She’s manifested one that’s a hodgepodge of Sabrina, Taylor and Brittany (yes, we had to go back a few years, i.e., an eternity in the pop world for that one) and several others, and created a digital-age monster who demands constant worship, slings insults at anyone who ever did her wrong, or even looked at her man, and insists her Sharpies live and die by her every move.
And speaking of dying: her entire band didn’t make it to the show tonight because their tour bus exploded in a violent crash somewhere up on Franklin. In fact, they won’t ever join her again. Thank God Molly didn’t wear her seatbelt, or she wouldn’t have been thrown clear of the fireball. Smiling through the pain, and recruiting a new band, stage crew and even backup dancers from her Fringe audience, the diva rips through several of her recent hits – JEALOUS, Tits in the Air, and, of course, Fucking Famous – all while bleeding out across the stage and literally losing a major body organ in the process.
What the whole thing amounts to in the end, is, well, f*cking hilarious.
As with all solo performances, the success of the whole enterprise rests squarely on the talent, charisma and gutsiness of the performer. If you’re going to watch someone for an hour inside a wig shop on Hollywood Blvd, they’d have at least two of those qualities. Sharpe is the whole package with all three: hilarious, edgy, and, like all carefully curated modern pop stars, not remotely hard on the eyes. Her pop-princess creation is a demanding, falsely humble, enormously egotistical, eyes-on-me-always bitch and has a nasty attitude and scathing lyric for anyone who’s ever gotten in her way. And, for some crazy reason you still can’t help but love her.
Sharpe’s comic chops and impeccable timing deliver genuine laugh-out-loud moments. She’s clearly studied the genus Popus Egotisis very deeply and nails the moves, the histrionics and the “it’s all about me” mania of the idols she skewers. Her singing is solid too, though it can’t match the vocals on her nicely produced companion CD (on sale at the show). But then again, without Auto-Tune, the same can be said for 90% of real-world pop stars.
Sharpe rachets up the bizarreness with every passing minute of stage time, and by the end of it you’ve experienced something that goes way beyond simple satire – more like Monty Python meets Carrie meets A Star is Born and it all adds up to complete and unhinged comedy gold. Sharpe is astute to realize the just-the-right length for this wicked showcase, before the routine grows thin. Knowing when to drop the proverbial curtain can mean the difference between success and self-indulgence. Well done!
As you might have surmised, while this is technically a one-woman show, it’s not remotely a solo piece. The audience interacts in big ways. Several in the raucous crowd happily came on stage to join the concert – some nice gazoo work from the guy who was sitting right behind me. Sharpe might have known one or two of them (especially an overly active “best fan” near the stage), or maybe not, but the support was palpable throughout the room. As with most Fringe shows, plenty of other performers were in the audience that have their own shows in the festival. I’d be curious to see how this show lands with an all-civilian crowd, but in the confines of the crowded wig shop, with friendlies only inches from the stage, it all worked beautifully.
And if you were hoping to catch Molly’s band in the flesh, fear not. Despite their recent rollover debacle, a part of them does indeed show up for one of the most memorable duets in pop history. No one refuses a diva’s call to share the stage. Imagine the follower bump! You really have to hand it to her.
F*cking Famous
Remaining Dates: June 26 and 28 at Outfitters Wig 6626 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood
part of the Hollywood Fringe Festival immersive and interactive show
