It is 1946. The war is over. Shellshocked opens on a prowling, corpulent Mr. Lupine. (It might be noted that one of the translations of “lupine” is “wolf”.) He is wearing a too-small vest that doesn’t quite cover his protruding stomach. He is physically disabled, which mirrors his psychological state.
There is a knock on the door. We are not sure if he has heard it. As he checks the unseen contents of the desk drawer, a timid Wesley Hepton enters. “Sorry, sir. The door was ajar. I tried knocking but you mustn’t have heard. I hope you don’t think me rude.” He is willowy and nervous; overwhelmed in his father’s suit.
We learn that Wesley, whose mother has sent Lupine his portfolio, hopes he will procure a job as an apprentice to the painter. Wesley arrives burdened with the financial responsibility of his mother and three sisters resting on his shoulders.
There is no talk of the work. The interview quickly becomes personal and uncomfortable. Immediately, the tension is palpable, yo-yoing between rapid-fire inquisition and frighteningly silent pauses. Lupine plies Wesley with alcohol, and there is a very uncomfortable physical encounter.
Mr. Lupine is very good at keeping Hepton off balance. “Do I intimidate you?” “A little, sir.” “That is wonderful.” Hepton struggles to find his footing; he is eager to please.
“I saw your portfolio, Wesley. I burnt it.” Wesley is horrified. “You had no right.” Lupine is very good at keeping control or the interview. “It was a test.” He hadn’t burnt Hepton’s work. We will learn that there is a reason for him to push Hepton. Hepton has a limit, and Lupine is ruthlessly mining for it.
Lupine digs out of Hepton war stories. “I haven’t been myself since I got back. I thought this might be a chance to better myself.”
Playwright, Philip Stokes, has precisely and succinctly described the characters in the script, and these characters live on the stage. I could not do better.
Mr. Lupine is middle aged. He is a professional portrait painter. He is articulate and educated. He is a functioning alcoholic and a repressed homosexual. He walks with a severe limp. He is a game player. He is insecure. He wishes he had made something of his life. He has never been to war.
Wesley Hepton is 19. He was a low-ranking soldier in WW2. He’s been home 8 months since the war ended. He is a local hero. He is suffering from shell shock. He is anxious, eager to please, easily manipulated and uneducated. He suffers from what we now call PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
Playwright Philip Stokes has created a mystery play with a relentless tension between the two characters. Director Philip Stokes keeps Lee Bainbridge as the menacing Lupine pacing around the stage. Bainbridge is as creepy as any horror villain. We cannot see into his soul. Jack Stokes as Wesley is stiff, almost paralysed. Stokes is an open book; we can read every thought on his face. It is a delight to watch these two play so well together and off of each other.
Production designer Craig Lomas has designed a set that says more than just set pieces. The stage is set with two desks separated by a blank canvas on an easel. The long drapes upstage are splattered with stains that are just barely visible. The original music of Brian Morrell works perfectly to heighten the tension. (And it is just lovely music.)
All the parts come together to make a mesmerising production.