I Could Dom

A woman is shut down by her friends when she posits the idea that she could absolutely be a dom, so she sets out to prove them wrong.

Men really can be dumb, witless freaks, can’t they? It seems that angry, bucktoothed, sex-pest, Andrew Tate may have been right about them – and let’s be clear, if he is right about this it’s the one and only thing he’s ever been remotely in the ballpark of being right about – that men are far too interested in being led about by the idea of making their pee-pee tingle. (His words, not mine.) The mere existence of the fact that Findom is a real thing, that’s financial domination to the uninitiated, is testament to this, along with OnlyFans model Sophie Rain, who seemingly racked up $43 million in earnings in the past year, with her top supporter apparently funding $4.7 million of that himself. These simps are everywhere and are becoming ever more prevalent in a post-lockdown society, where it’s easier to stay alone in your bedroom and pretend that you’re in a relationship with someone who’s only ripping you for every last cent, rather than actually go outside and have real life interactions with people. So, in the spirit of the modern generation, rather than actually going out and having sex, they’re deciding to make films about it instead.

Writer, director and star, Madison Hatfield has decided to shine a light on the subject of domination in sex-play, even though she is a self-confessed novice herself. Her character, June is a lot like her – a people pleaser who always thinks of others first before setting about getting what she wants. With I Could Dom, Hatfield has decided to explore the side of herself which could be let out if the right situation arose, and so we watch as June bumbles about in some tight leather trying to take control and take what she wants when she gets a date with Jeff (Evans).

This encounter is set-up by a Sex and the City style ‘ladies that lunch’ meeting between June and her two friends, Marigold (Alline) and Deb (Thomas). The other two are well versed in their respective sexual roles, with Deb extorting some poor sap who can’t stop touching himself, and Marigold sharing how she likes to be choked and slapped in the bedroom. Poor June though, is lost in amongst the conversation and when she tentatively suggests that she could dom, literally the whole room looks at her to tell her she’s wrong. Nevertheless, June gets onto the SneakyLynx app to set herself up as a dominatrix so that she can get out there and explore her new found confidence.

As with most dating apps, even the non-overtly sexual ones, Jeff is a needle in a haystack as the only sane, sensible guy out there who has a decent, unthreatening tone and a relatable profile. However, Jeff definitely wants to sub and when faced with the buxom, curvaceous, leather-clad figure of June, he begins to think that all of his Christmases have come at once. Unfortunately for Jeff, June is in over her head and she can’t stop being polite, trying to make sure he is comfortable, and using the word ‘sorry’ way too much. Jeff does his best to put June at ease and is remarkably understanding in the face of such a poor dominatrix, but when he feels that June might not be getting anything out of this, he pulls out the safe-word and calls a halt to proceedings before any jiggery-pokery can begin. This causes June to have a bit of an existential crisis and she begins comparing herself to a soapdish – which does actually make sense within the narrative.

Throughout I Could Dom there’s a cheeky, raunchy, titillating humour which aims to lead the vanillas amongst us delicately through the world of sex-play. The colour and lighting coming through Cristian Bernal’s cinematography also keeps things nice and soft as the sexy times heat up and almost immediately cool down, leaving the viewer feeling safe and content at all times as the very personal issues of finding ourselves through ourselves and each other get explored. The main message of loving yourself comes through nice and clear, especially in the closing moments, and the casual reminder that we’re all just a little bit freaky inside, with the need for us to be okay with that, also hits a nice comfortable note.

Hatfield’s script and narrative have a nice measure of spicy fun to them and her performance as June stands out as a beautiful piece of comedy. There are nice allusions to art and mythology peppered throughout the fifteen-minute runtime, helping us to understand that people have been building fantasies around sex for a very long time, and there is room in the scenario for something bigger to be developed around this idea.

Unfortunately though, the fact that I Could Dom lacks bite in its telling, is what lets it down. With Jeff being the first and only guy that June meets in this bearpit of sexual gratification, and that everything works out for the best immediately, just isn’t indicative of the real life scene. Nowhere do the letters S&M or BDSM get mentioned, showing just how tame the humour and the scenario really are in handling the downright dirty sex acts usually involved in the ritual humiliation of others for sexual gain, and overall I Could Dom feels like it’s pulling on a costume and pretending to be something it’s not. Definitely tastes more like vanilla than hot, sweaty PVC and ground metal.