Jellyfish Brains finds its success in its ability to not take itself too seriously. While much of the 50-minute production, on paper, is high-concept – veering on audience-inclusive performance art – its frequent return to sheer silliness is what makes its artfulness feel all the more poignant. Largely, this is because the play draws upon the greater motif of the (non-existent, but therefore equally everywhere) jellyfish brain. (I recommend a quick Google search before you continue reading.)

Written and directed by Sarah Fowler, Jellyfish Brains is an immensely creative concoction of comedy, poetry, and movement. Guided by the sensory experience of all three, the audience watches on as the love story of Viola (Martha Alexander) and Orsino (Caleb Marlow) expands, contracts, and combusts. From the minute the two lovers enter the stage, in an incredibly organic-feeling sequence, you can tell the play is about to shift into something particularly magical.

“Its frequent return to sheer silliness is what makes its artfulness feel all the more poignant”

There’s also 1 (Georgia Emanuel) and 2 (Sam Ericsson) – two jesters? Jellyfish? Amoebic children? – hilariously clad in coordinated Juicy Couture-esque ‘Jelly’ and ‘Fish’ sweatsuits, 1 and 2 are ready to observe and intervene in the action of the play at any moment. While it’s not entirely clear who 1 and 2 are, what they represent, or what they are doing everywhere, all at once, it actually, somehow, seems not to matter that much. They keep the ebb and flow of the underwater-seeming universe alive as Viola and Orsino deal with the stakes of their ‘real world’ relationship. There’s nothing quite like untying the front row’s shoelaces, or playing Wordle on an audience member’s phone, to remind them that something silly is actually going on beneath the surface.

That’s not to say that Jellyfish Brains isn’t serious. Among the quirky gags, sex jokes (“What if I forget my lines and my cock falls off?”), and finger-sucking, Fowler also clearly has something to say about the pure infantility of human desire. Viola and Orsino have petty quibbles and explosive fights, they love each other and then hate each other again, Viola cries when Orsino shines a flashlight in her eyes and Orsino can’t quite admit that he “burns” for her. Through all ages, they love like children, like they are “just born.” Fowler manages to approach such a tender topic without a hint of pretension, and rather embraces its fairly weighty psychology from a place of playfulness.

“Fowler manages to approach such a tender topic without a hint of pretension”

Another major component of this show’s success is the beauty of its design. Viola’s costume (designed by Dan Mills) is a particular standout, as is the light-up jellyfish umbrella of course (though, I’m still not quite sure what it meant when the jellyfish occasionally made its appearance). Even Fowler’s use of the New Cellars space was thoughtful and effective – the subtle jellyfish-like motifs are everywhere, and plainly, are quite cute and fun.

It is difficult to come up with anything at all that this production needs work on; it is beautifully self-contained, evidently well-rehearsed, and knows exactly what it wants to be. Even if at times 1 and 2’s humour faltered, or you couldn’t quite catch the names of each “chapter”, most of Jellyfish Brains’ stumbles are minimal in comparison to its strides.

Perhaps, if anything, Jellyfish Brains simply has room to keep growing. When 1 and 2 tease an “intermission” right before the play’s ending, you really do believe them (and not because you’ve learned to just do what they say)! It seems to me that there’s so much story to still traverse, if Fowler chooses to do so – one can only hope that her excellent cast would stick along for the ride.

Jellyfish Brains is playing at 7pm in Pembroke’s New Cellars until Saturday 11th May.