The Cabin on Bald Dune (Stage 11, Varscona Theatre)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

In this adept new thriller by Jezec Sanders, the set-up is comedy, with a slight undertow of mystery and a ripple of unease that play under its surfaces.

Two old friends meet up in an isolated cabin on an island for “some conceptualizing” about their new business venture, a restaurant. Clara (Jenny McKillop), who runs one herself, arrives first, rehearsing her thank you’s in advance. Jeannie (Kristi Hansen), who’s dressed for the boardroom, sweeps in and takes charge, a tidal wave of A-type charm and playfulness. “You look aaah-mazing!”

In April Banigan’s production, the two expert actors take charge of the comedy of the moment, in ways that are absolutely convincing (and funny). And the dynamic between the characters gradually leans outside the bounds of the comic set-up. “What’s new with you?” trills Jeannie, with that recognizable high-beam of attentiveness. Clara is slightly taken aback. “For the last 20 years?

The Cabin on Bald Dune plays with our expectations, in ways so subtle we might barely notice, moment by moment, and can easily dismiss if we do. Sanders’ dexterous script gives us that option, which we share with McKillop’s wary but willing Clara. There’s  something not quite right, an effect enhanced by a growing sense, calibrated for the unease factor, that the inhabited island might not be. Uninhabited, that is. Hansen’s Jeannie, energetic and persuasive, seems oddly unconcerned.

“Risk is the key to success…. Who said that?” says Jeannie brightly “Was it you?” ventures Clara. “Technically Zuckerberg….  But I said something similar.”

Sanders is a witty writer, with a sharp ear for funny dialogue. His script is skilfully underwritten, far from word-choked. Which is fun for two actors with first-rate comic timing, and for director Banigan, who knows the value of pauses and silence. As for the story, it’s built on the unsettling question of why the characters are there in the first place. Is it the siren call of profit? The lure of adventure? Redemption? Like Clara, we’re called upon to reassess at every moment.

Thrillers have a delicate, teeter-y architecture, as rigorously challenging in their way as farces. And, my fringer friends, there are so many things I can’t tell you, for your own good, about this one, built layer upon layer.  Suffice it to say that every time a wave of oceanic fear threatens to wash over the island, the play dangles you a paddle board, so to speak, and tells you not to worry. Ha.