Natalia Sledz's <em>Puss Puss</em> — a nearly wordless one-person show at The Boom Boom House, Erskineville Town Hall for Sydney Fringe 2026 — is a social experiment in interspecies communication wrapped up in a kooky piece of theatre. Chaotic, hilarious and packed with "wtf" moments, Claryss Kuan finds a piece of physical comedy as unpredictable and captivating as the animal it honours.
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Natalia Sledz's Puss Puss, a nearly wordless one-person show at The Boom Boom House, Erskineville Town Hall for Sydney Fringe 2026, is a social experiment in interspecies communication wrapped up in a kooky piece of theatre — chaotic, hilarious, and filled with multiple "wtf" moments. Sledz has created a piece of physical comedy as unpredictable and captivating as the animal it honours.
Explaining what "WAP" meant to my Asian, conservative-ish mum was not on my 2026 bingo card, but thank you, Natalia Sledz, for giving me this golden opportunity.
Puss Puss, a one-person show and performed pretty much without human dialogue, is basically a social experiment in interspecies communication wrapped up in a kooky piece of theatre. It is chaotic, hilarious, and filled with multiple "wtf" moments (especially when you find yourself stroking a woman in a furry catsuit as she purrs at you and demands belly rubs).
On the stage, boxes are strewn haphazardly amongst red yarn and cat treats — an immediate immersion into a cat's ideal world. As we take our seats, I notice feathers and toys amongst audience members, and a precariously placed glass of water that only needs a small swipe to fall. When Sledz bursts out under one of the cardboard boxes, there's a slow-growing realisation amongst the audience that we will be amongst the props that she's going to use throughout the night.
What's immediately intriguing is that Puss Puss has no plot to lean on and no monologue to interpret. The narrative is built entirely on meows, physical comedy, improvisation, and the unpredictability of a scaredy-cat operating on its own whims.
I must confess that I was quite unprepared for the level of audience interaction this performance demanded. Within minutes, Sledz breaks the barrier between performer and audience, treating the front row as her personal territory after a cautious sniff or two. She weaves through the aisles, rubbing against legs and demanding attention, exactly like a feline companion after realising you're not a threat. We're expected to interact with her just as we would a friendly yet mischievous cat: scratching her chin, spraying her with water when needed, and even rewarding her with "cat" treats.
For all its absurdity, I can appreciate the nuance and sheer skill Sledz has to manipulate an audience to do her bidding. It's one thing to keep an audience engaged and entertained, it's another to get them to understand subtle commands without words (there may have been a few whispers of direction which only triggered more laughter). Participation in the performance was not only highly appreciated, it was needed for the performance to work — and it was quite a relief to see audience members going along with the same amount of enthusiasm Sledz has to bring this bit to life.
Enthusiasm was definitely needed for one particular moment, where Sledz invites two unsuspecting members up on stage to serve as personal groomers/scratching posts. What followed was an extended sequence where she guides her chosen participants to "lick" various parts of her entire body with a specificity that was both hilarious and slightly unsettling. We watch in mortified laughter and disbelief as this grown woman, fully committed to her feline character, orchestrates her own pampering with the entitlement of a cat who knows exactly what it wants and exactly how to get it.
Sledz plays to the shock factor with scenes like this, complemented with exaggerated moments from her being high on catnip, after an audience member tears out a page of his book to create a joint for her to "smoke". We see stylised nightmare visions of having to have a bath (with the iconic Billie Eilish's What Was I Made For (Sad Cat version) as the perfect soundtrack), and an enlarged vacuum cleaner coming to life and threatening to suck up everything and everyone.
Puss Puss is not meant for the theatregoer wanting to sit back — it's a performance that forces you on the edge of your seat. Sledz has created a piece of physical comedy that is as unpredictable and captivating as the animal it honours, sitting somewhere in between a bad acid trip and a tender memory of having a pet.
And no, no Cardi B/Megan Thee Stallion was played. Bullet dodged this time.
Creator & Performer: Natalia Sledz
Reviewed by Claryss Kuan.
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