An actress, an artist and a life-sized bronze statue set off on a road trip across the American Midwest… and there’s a duffel-bag full of guns in the back of their car. It sounds like the set-up for a comic heist movie, and there are indeed some moments of levity along the way. But as we come to know the characters, and what they’re doing with those guns, a darker and more complex story emerges: a tale of how different people respond to tragedy, and an exemplar of how to make an engaging play out of a harrowing theme.

Exactly how guns have impacted the two women’s lives is a secret at first, which playwright Nancy Hamada dispenses in cleverly measured doses. But we get to know the road-trippers straight away: there’s Fedelis, a former soap-star who’s deliciously unashamed to flaunt her celebrity, and Taylor, a driven young art student on the way to her first major exhibition. They’re united by affection for Jessie, the boy modelled in the statue, and perhaps by their commitment to a cause.

Nicole Greevy (as Fedelis) and August Kiss Fegley (as Taylor) play well off each other’s characters, evoking the feel of a classic road trip through a simple but well-conceived set. As the journey continues and they grow more committed to their task, there’s a genuine sense of adventure and escape, of stepping just a little outside themselves. The easy inter-generational friendship is a touching highlight of the plot – and of course, it’s the older Fedelis who proves to be boldest when the time comes to break the rules.

Though it comes down unambiguously on the side of gun control, the script is far less strident than you might expect it to be. This is a road-trip through a complex and contradictory America: where cops are to be feared yet can crumble in compassion, where the Second Amendment is controversial but gun shows are an accepted fact of life. Todd Faulkner, who plays all the minor roles, makes each character along the route distinctive and whole – from the eerily silent hooded man who could be either a threat or an ally, to the star-struck illicit gun supplier who’s not quite as smart as he believes.

And the ending, when it comes, is both surprising and unsettling – in the most creative and rewarding of ways. It’s about guns, yes, and it’s also about the power of art to communicate when words alone have failed. But it touches on topics even deeper than that: how we, as a society, demand that victims demonstrate their trauma, and whether it’s exploitative or empowering to lean into that. The final scene is a literal work of art, which knits threads that had seemed unconnected seamlessly together; a masterful wrap-up for a subtle, riddling, yet quietly impactful play.