SAILORS, SILLINESS, AND
A SHADOW ON THE HORIZON

Quirky musical comedy drifts between charm and
fatigue before finding a quietly haunting final note

When it comes to musical theater, writer Milo Cramer seems to have a particular affinity for sailors—think On the Town, where three sailors spend a 24-hour leave in New York City, singing and dancing, blending musical comedy with an earnest innocence and a hard-pressed, can-do optimism. Currently onstage in the Peter Jay Sharp Theater is an 80-minute musical developed with a close-knit group of Cramer’s collaborators from his graduate program in San Diego: performers Bailey Lee, Ellen Nikbakht, and Elliot Sagay, alongside director Aysan Celik and musical director Kyle Adam Blair.

My theater companion thoroughly enjoyed the performance, laughing consistently at its quirky, often absurd humor. The word used to describe the performance was “twee.” Whereas my companion embraced that quality as a compliment, my own response leaned in the opposite direction.

Even so, there’s no denying the commitment and stamina of the performers. Most notably, the lone pianist plays continuously—from a 30-minute preshow through the full performance and into a brief post show—an impressive feat of focus and finger endurance. Meanwhile, the three sailors rarely pause, darting between multiple characters, genders, and, at one point, crabs and ants. When not singing, they’re speaking in rhythmic patterns and executing tightly precise movements. That’s a lot of twee.

Krit Robinson’s scenic design features a silver Mylar rain curtain stretching across the upstage wall, catching and refracting Masha Tsimring’s lighting to pleasing effect. Enver Chakartash’s costumes begin with the familiar white-capped, blue-kerchiefed sailor suits, supplemented by a well-stocked rack of additional pieces that facilitate the performers’ rapid-fire character transformations.

There are faint echoes of Christopher Durang in the writing and lyrics, which always included a parallel subtext to the darker sides of the comedy. Here, too, beneath the buoyant silliness, a more somber undercurrent emerges as these young sailors are bound for war, knowing they will most likely die. Such moments are few and far between, leaving the material to feel more collegiate, easily imagining the piece thriving in a university setting. But in a venue like Playwrights Horizons—where recent offerings like Prince Faggot set a notably high bar—No Singing in the Navy struggles to sustain the same level of engagement.

As real-life sailors are being deployed to regions like the Strait of Hormuz, however, the musical’s final moment lands with simple, repetitive lyrics that underscore both innocence and resignation—where the contrast between the show’s playful surface and its sobering conclusion hits home. Even if the journey there may not resonate for every audience member, the ending lingers.

And when we die
Cuz we gotta die
I dunno know why
Everyone dies
But when we die
Cuz we’re gonna die
Like it or not.
I love you a lot.
It’s all that I got.

I love you a lot
I love you a lot a lot
It’s all that I got
I love you a lot.

It’s a disarmingly simple refrain—childlike, almost—but that very simplicity gives it weight, echoing after the lights come up.

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photos by Valerie Terranova

No Singing in the Navy
Playwrights Horizons
Peter Jay Sharp Theater, New York City
ends on May 3, 2026
for tickets, visit Playwrights Horizon

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