4/5 Stars
Coming from a glimpse of a barren thought of the sense of being presented with the concrete knowledge and perspectives of what sex education is for a kid growing up into becoming a teenager, Shell presents a unique taste of fighting spirit, rebellion against social norms, and candid perspectives on what the human body is and what secrets we hide about ourselves. But that unique taste also coincidentally becomes irrelevant towards the main storyline and important towards why being a non-binary human, and the non-binary experience is essentially confusing to those who haven’t been exposed to one simply.
The show opens with a hockey bag on the stage, which sets the tone for the rest of the show. Then Andy, played by Ana Evans, graces the stage into a hockey game, but also the game of internal thinking. If you need an energized and driven messenger show, Shell is for you, because the amount of actions was beyond a lot of the shows that I have seen or watched. This is a phenomenal reason why someone should come to Shell. I wasn’t too happy, however, with the lack of explaining beforehand; rather, coming later, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea that you could say something, then avoid it for the rest of the show. I understood most of why this was on stage, but not “why” this was being performed. In certain moments, I was left confused about the reason why the peanut’s existence was there. It didn’t cause the show to necessarily rebel against the greatness of a solid-bound show, but it can be confusing to the audience who doesn’t understand all the terms and concepts directly. However, I will argue that the point of the show isn’t to explain everything, but rather to show everything. Which director Linnea Scott does perfectly. This approach would make the most sense, knowing the target audience, while an audience member coming into this could be potentially confused in the first half, until the climax, which is great for the aspects of a great slow development style show. Shell, as well, is an emotionally complex show that is sure to leave you in a form of tears.
Andy (played by Ana Evans), in Shell, directed by Linnea Scott. Photo credits: Morgan McDowell.
While centered around a coming-of-age story reflective of a person trying to break free from their own self, Shell then continues into a rebirth metaphor performance, which creates a moment of physical humor and comedy away from the dark humor. Moments of human connection are learned throughout this part of the show, and were in good taste throughout the rest. Then lays out why the show is important. If you are shy of body parts, this show wasn’t mistaken, or heavily associated with the constant reference to being viewed as a sex or gender. It focuses on finding you as a person that you choose to be. Between and during certain transactions, between the exchange of dialogues and shifting narratives, you are caught in the middle of a concert of Andy, which is a very beautiful piece of art for the eye. But also emotionality filled with what left me smiling and wanting the show to continue for longer. Satirizing the ideals of self-love, and teaching us not to care about others’ feelings of you, there was a moment during a transition, when a rebirth happened, and coming out of a womb, the whole audience and I were laughing with common farce, establishing a lighter sense of humor, but allowing a powerful, dramatic piece to be presented.
The lighting design of Lee Lillis gives us a feel of a real hockey game. From the moment you walk into the theatre, the lighting felt crafted masterfully and touchingly. But Luckiii’s illustration design during the resurrection of hope and resistance of Andy was a spectacle. Sound designer Lola Basilere had everyone cheering. The place did turn into a hockey game; never once did it become embarrassing, nor were the vibes thrown off. This was a true cake of art, but also impressive for a smaller end of the scale of a show. Even though the show takes place in a basement of a historical theatre, each transition was crafted in the sense to not keep us waiting; it kept us thinking. The part of the rockstar at the end, with the lip-syncing, was creativity at its best.
Andy (played by Ana Evans), in Shell, directed by Linnea Scott. Photo credits: Morgan McDowell.
The directions of Linnea Scott were attention-grabbing in the best way possible. I wasn’t thinking about how the performance is; I was watching what the characters’ journey throughout the space was. Everything came back to me in a foreign language, something emotional that I could understand, but couldn’t process, which made the show great, because each approach the character takes was a defining moment in the journey of discovery. Not a single second wasted.
The show closes out with a massive applause from the audience as it hits the spots within them and reflects upon the experience of heavy subjects, such as the social life as someone who is non-binary, as well as someone who is in their most changing phase of life. I did relate to this show, and everyone took it as a lesson of what it looks like to question everything that has happened to you and go with the flow. (Part of the show puns presented). Demystifying the case of being scared to change, and just embracing the fact of power from within yourself, this was a great show for the moments that touch your heart.
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
