Shellshocked - An Explosive New Play

“It’s been a bit of an odd morning, sir,” says young Wesley, trying to make sense of Mr Lupine’s unusual interview techniques. The not quite 20-year-old man is uncomfortable in his late-father’s suit, his mother guiding the naïve man to apply for an apprenticeship to the local portrait artist. Wesley is not long back from the war, encouraged to bury its horrors in his mind – but Lupine has other ideas.

The established artist walks awkwardly with a stick, finds any excuse to throw back a slug of cognac, and tortures poor Wesley mercilessly. The potential apprentice attempts to navigate the questions politely, even when Lupine twists and changes the words around him, asking him to sit, stand, sit again, like a dog, telling him one thing and then the opposite, confusing the Yorkshire lad just trying to make an honest living.

English playwright Philip Stokes continues his tradition of bringing his works to the Adelaide Fringe for their Australian premiere, following in the success of Heroin(e) for Breakfast and Jesus, Jane, Mother & Me. This two-hander features Stokes’ son, Jack as the returning soldier, shellshocked not just by what he had to witness (and do) in the trenches, but at suddenly becoming the ‘man of the house’, and expected to provide for his mother and three sisters.

Jack Stokes is extraordinary actor: you can see him growing in stature on the stage as he transforms from a boy who’s had to grow up too quickly into a man who can and will stand up for himself. His emotional range is tremendous as he is forced to recall events he’d rather not, this perverted therapy equipping him with the courage and ferocity everyone expects him to have found on the battlefield thousands of miles away.

Lee Bainbridge is Lupine, a precise, particular, scheming weasel of a man, his only power being a broader knowledge of the apprentice than the young man expected. Bainbridge’s smiles and spits are equally venomous, and he surfaces Lupine’s bitterness and psychopathic tendencies brilliantly.

Directed by Philip Stokes himself, the Holden Street stage is a warmly lit, hundred-year-old artist’s studio, with a wooden desk and chair, a well-used drinks cabinet, its tall back wall draped in painter’s cloths. Centred on the stage is a massive, blank canvas, drawing the audience’s attention to its emptiness, asking questions of what will fill that space?

The dialogue between Lupine and Wesley is meticulous, brilliantly composed and delivered, with moments of humour, but soaked in exceptional cruelty. It’s physically uncomfortable to watch the elder abuse the youngster, his constant prodding of his mind and body – and less frequently, the suggestion of sexual intimacy – is deliberately designed to provoke audience reactions of disgust and horror. The twisting narrative is well crafted, but tightens like hands around your throat, and it is a thoroughly unpleasant experience.

Clever writing on the page and utter brilliance on the stage does not balance the sadism of the story inflicted on the audience. Whilst Lupine’s cruelness comes from many places, there are analogies here echoing the period of this piece, of generals making life-changing and life-ending decisions from the comfort of a chateau, whilst thousands of men died needlessly for a few acres of land. And in our present day, there is deliberate cruelty from many incompetent and otherwise-impotent world leaders who play God, satisfying the needs of a privileged few at the enormous expense of the many.

This is superb art. But it’s a dark and cruel story that will have you squirming in your seats: we all know a Lupine; what version of Wesley will you be?

Review by Mark Wickett

Photographer: Craig Lomax

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