Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island is one of those stories you know, even if you think you don’t. Plucky youngster, tempted by adventure and talk of treasure, gets tangled up in pirate mayhem. Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum, and all that. Fun, yes, but not necessarily a tale you expect delightful surprises from. And yet delightful and surprising is exactly how I would describe Half Cut Theatre’s brilliantly buoyant production at the Isis Farmhouse this weekend.

It was clear from the outset that things were going to be lively: the cast are seasoned pub performers and know how to cut through the chatter and command attention. Kicking things off with shouting, singing, mime, and swift character switches, Half Cut create their particular blend of theatrical magic without any decorative distractions – it’s all in the performance.

We were treated to a superbly self-absorbed Squire Trelawney and eager, energetic Jim Hawkins – possibly the only two of the cast to stay with one character. Long John Silver was fantastically foul and ferocious – but also equipped with a wonderfully dry wit. Ben Gunn as a cheese-obsessed nerd, hiding away on Skeleton Island with his rubber duck, was a lovely change in tone from the mouthy pirates. However, I feel it’s best to prepare yourself for the star of the show being… the parrot. Reimagined by Half Cut as a kind of fabulous feathered drag queen - Mrs Squawkins - this was one of those occasions when a minor character completely steals the spotlight.

Putting on a show is what Half Cut are all about, and it’s worth noting that this cast is equipped with the kind of vocal power you’d expect in the packed auditoriums of the West End or Broadway. Folkies and fans of TikTok sea shanties had the extra treat of recognising the traditional origins of the songs. Possibly the only disappointment, musically, was that we didn’t get a little bit more use of the instruments Half Cut brought with them (perhaps I’m biased though – as someone partial to the sound of accordions).

Whilst the play takes place in and around the audience as well as on stage, audience participation was more of an occasional aside than a constant theme, which I felt worked really well by keeping our focus on the performers and avoiding the awkward ‘who will get picked on next’ feeling that sometimes accompanies informal theatre. However, in non-Covid times I imagine there would have been a lot more swashbuckling singing and table-thumping from us (I did break into a quiet murmur of Shallow Brown at the end!).

There was one memorable and brilliant moment from a very young audience member: in the dramatic silence after the defeat of a (moderately) vicious pirate, a nearby toddler announced: ‘uh oh!’. Perfect proof that noisy sing-songs and parrot-prancing work just as well if you’re too little to follow the full story, and for me, symbolic of the spirit of Half Cut’s approach. This is theatre for everyone, performed with great gusto, and however well you think you know a classic tale, Half Cut will give you something to treasure.