Review: Shellshocked

A haunting, unforgettable exploration of post-war madness and hope

By Alana Pahor

Playwright Philip Stokes’ play Shellshocked is aptly named — not only for its feature of a young returned soldier, but for the captivating ways it haunts its audience.

The play opens with a young, polished Wesley entering the workshop of an eccentric, egotistical artist, in pursuit of an apprenticeship. As the artist — Mr Lupine — volleys off intrusive questions to the youth about his war experiences, I squirm with pity for Wesley. 

The two actors bounce off each other so naturally, exchanging quips, anecdotes and tender moments. This classic dynamic of eager-to-please apprentice and witty, fatherlike master is intriguing in itself, but is quickly turned on its head and then back again throughout the play.

As Mr Lupine asks a cutting question, Wesley freezes mid-smile a moment too long. Wesley laughs at a joke, and Mr Lupine’s face grows dark for an uncomfortable stretch before he waves it off. These jolts between the comedic and borderline hostile cleverly create an unsettling feeling — a hint at something darker.

Around the three-quarter mark, I begin to grow fatigued by this pattern and wonder where the play is heading. Yet perhaps this was a ploy to lull me into a false sense of security because, several minutes later, I am surprised by an explosive finale rich with pain, anger and hope.

The emotion and passion displayed by the actors here is so raw, so desperate, that I am stunned. Shellshocked is a powerful, soul-stirring play that confronts the horrors of war and the dangers of obsession. 

[4 stars]