The Fringe is going out with a bang. The inhabitants of Hausdown certainly are. The battened-down passions of these Regency caricatures become uncontrollable. At every interaction, dangerously explosive lust is barely contained beneath the beautiful costumes and heaving chests.

Ruby Carter’s costumes are a feature of this triumphant production – but it is hard to think of an aspect that isn’t. The all-round perfection of Hausdown makes the word ‘highlight’ defunct, as from top to bottom – from script to choreography to direction, staging and acting – the show is a tour-de-force.

I do have my favourites. Peggie Barnes and Zachary Klein transition from their previous brilliant intellectual performances two weeks ago in the morality tale Death, Ray into ridiculously camp powerhouses in this production. Both are hilarious. Klein plays our host, Lord Edwin Pilloughsby, Count of Hausdown, and Barnes plays Miss Harriet Girthshire, a neighbour of low birth but excellent (horse) breeding skills. The subtlety of their physicality and verbal delivery give believable depth to their caricatures. Barnes’ breath control is such that apparently she can blush on cue. Klein turns out to be a mean dancer on top of his masterful acting talent.

Perfect comedic timing is a feature of all the acting performances, as is the gloriously camp physicality. Manservant Sean Farrell’s eyebrows and coconuts (on-stage foley) almost deserve their own acting credits. Carter also acts as Lady Beatrice Swoonsworth, Baroness of Delusioment – the centre of a love triangle. Her character is the dim, indecisive eye to the furniture-chewing storm created by rivals for her affection: Barnes’ low-born horse breeder vs Rachel McLean’s man-spreading Captain August Arch, ‘Dukess’ of Cuntcliffe. Their lusty fight choreography (Nina Hogg) expertly manipulates us with nuance as their plotline develops.

The laughs are constant throughout. McLean possibly gets the ‘man’s’ share with her pompous “waaaar” hero. She tortures the flattened vowels of a braying, Fry-esque upper-class accent to hilarious extremes, so that by half-way through the performance she needs only utter one word to bring the house down.

Lincoln Swinerd plays Lord Edward Lapthorne, Duke of Cuntcliffe, as a beautiful fool with enough human subtlety to have our empathy heaped at his feet within minutes. Julia-Bon McDonald’s conflicted, scheming outsider, Miss Susan Girthshire, engages directly with the audience to great effect, dripping black sheep scorn.

My other stand out performance is Anna Barker’s Lady Louisa Pilloughsby, our hostess, the Countess of Hausdown. Her physicality, and accent flips from regency priss to contemporary sexual in a blink; her timing skewering our funny bones. She and Swinerd propel the main plotline, eliciting sympathetic agony as they take us on their journey of discovery.

We await the foreshadowed marriage proposal between these two cousins (of course), but their advisors have alternative motives. Klein’s Lord Edwin (Lady Louisa’s brother) advises his cousin Lord Edward, while McDonald’s Miss Susan chaperones Lady Louisa. Both pairs are conflicted in their desires and things do not resolve as expected.

The second plotline love triangle contorts to breaking point between two possibilities, until a third way is found, as Miss Harriet and Captain August consider a fascinating detente.

Katie Hill’s direction blends seamlessly with Ava O’Brien’s choreography in what is a mannered, physical show. It opens with hand dance by all eight players, features two on-trend period-mashing expositional dance sequences, and delightfully wry canters with our love triangle players, mounted astride a very accommodating pole steed. With eight cast members all on stage for much of the performance, Hill’s challenge of directing our focus is ably met. Although with so many potential scene-stealers, I want to have a set of eyes and attention space for each of them.

Hausdown is an extreme farce, but nothing is overdone. The balance is evident throughout. Teddy O’Neill’s lighting, Sam Hearps’ set and Joshua Lees’ sound are comprehensive but subtle, expertly achieving the invisibility required of them as they play their part in manipulating our subconscious. The music (Thomas Whaley and Thorin Williams) is another feature for me, in particular the breaks into bass-heavy erotic club style during the dance mashups.

I have to identify the star of the show: Katie Hill and Ruby Carter’s script. It is razor sharp and submarine tight. Being a farce, the plot development is necessarily obvious. And so, like the staging, Hill and Carter make it invisible. The subtle delights come from the language itself. Our players’ brilliance is magnified by the words they are gifted to deliver.

We are treated as insiders on every joke. The innuendo is dry and devastating, the profanity selective and amplifying, the archetypes knowing and joyous. This clever, clever writing makes Hausdown the show of the festival for me. More, more, more!

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