These are tough times, but do I have the salve for you – the completely bonkers Captain Morrow and the Sands of Time. It will give you deep belly laughs for over an hour, and maybe aching smile muscles for a few days after.

This is a show about pirates, seagulls, and a talking cyst (yes, really).  It’s also a massive love letter to theatre, taking the two-hander-plus-musician format to its absolute limits. We are awed at the overcommitment of its two actors (who play 21 and 22 characters respectively if you count inanimate objects and the undead characters) and one cellist/ sound effects / foley artist.

The NZ premiere of an award-winning Edinburgh Fringe show from 2015, this piece by UK playwright Ben Behrens has been updated and restaged. Physical comedy genius Barney Duncan directs. In Callum Brodie and Ella Hope-Higginson he finds two actors who are up for any degree of absurdity, and it’s their commitment and belief in every scene and character that really makes us willing to go along with them. Ali Sewell plays live accompaniment on the cello, showing their incredible timing and ability to simultaneously play, act and vocalise sound effects.

No set or lighting designer is credited, but the lighting design was very simple – the only lighting change I noticed was a small ‘lightning’ effect. The ‘set’ was two thrifted white wooden stools and a piano stool; for costumes, the production splurged on over the top blowsy pirate shirts that reminded me of when these were briefly in fashion in the 1990s, and two pairs of strap-ons (wings, I mean).  This is your classic, bare-bones, white-knuckle-ride of a fast-paced script, two+ hander where the actors’ craft is the only thing that carries the show. I don’t think we see this style enough anymore. This was a fine example of the form.

Behren’s script plays homage to the adorably tropey adventure stories of the old days – Indiana Jones, Errol Flynn movies, Casablanca – and everything these classics have inspired since, such as Pirates of the Caribbean. It also references every drama school devising exercise ever, the ones where you have a split second to make impossible things happen with a chair and whatever you’re wearing. Brodie and Hope-Higginson make use of scarves, boots and socks, their hands, two stools – by the end of the show we are completely ready to believe anything they state they’re doing. Three people can convincingly portray a complex fight involving zombies, the British navy, a shipful of pirates, Poseidon the god of the sea, and time travel – because theatre is magic and we have signed up to believe.

Brodie’s skill as a comedic actor comes to the fore. He has a reactive rubber face, paired with so much control that he never once breaks into laughter. Hope-Higginson is the perfect foil with her frenetic energy and impressively mobile body – their height difference is utilised to hilarious effect. Some characters are inhabited for only a few seconds before they switch to another, but there’s such clarity of gesture and voice that we’re never confused. As well as being delightfully watchable the two actors engage effortlessly with the audience, asking a man for the time, leading us in a Mexican wave, and charming this reviewer to hand over her sparkly shoe for a starring role as a pirate missile.

Ali Sewell is never just an accompanist: they also have excellent comedic instincts and their reactions to what the other two are doing is part of the fun.  Their turn as a third of a 6-eyed cave monster is a highlight; but they are also an excellent musician who plays for almost the entirety of the 75 minute run time.

Afterwards, I had conversations in the foyer about why people make theatre even when there’s no money to pay artists. (It’s worth noting and saluting that the actors and crew in this production were paid above Equity rates). Yes, it was definitely a selected crowd, stuffed full of people who love making indie stuff (not just theatre, also literature, cuisine, films…) but in these times, we all need to remind ourselves why we’re doing the thing, and how amazing it feels when someone pulls it off.

Captain Morrow and the Sands of Time reminds us of the joy of theatre and how the memory of that one good show will zing in our brains forever. It’s also a great show because you can forget about noticing the (excellent) craft on display and just enjoy.  For over an hour, we forgot the storms outside, the lack of funding in every space not just arts, and the sadness of everything that’s happening. We gave ourselves permission to escape and to dream of pirates who win everything they deserve. And that is why we love theatre.

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