Dysmorphia by Phoenix Benham sets up the promise of an intriguing and hard-hitting play, dealing with the relationship turmoil of a soldier returning from war with PTSD. The graphic accompanying the advertising blurb is eye-catching and the text promises a love story like no other.
However, unfortunately this play misses the mark. The story has the basis of a good idea but how the main issues are dealt with, in particular the appropriate treatment for PTSD in war veterans, as well as inconsistency of standard in performances by each of the actors, has the feel of a play still very much in development.
The first act sets up the context and there is a credible sense of a soldier’s return from war and the ensuing relationship challenges. Theo, who is played by promising actor Joey Maragakis, is deeply affected by his time at war and the death of his close comrade.
There are other solid performances during some scenes, particularly when the characters are giving their own monologues - Theo’s funeral speech and Luna’s inner voice cautioning her that nobody is coming to save her are standout moments. Some of the interactions between characters are also credible, particularly those with Siobhan (Marsha Bevan), and Luna's (played by Benham herself) portrayal of emotional intensity with both the other characters and her inner voice and the fight scene in the second act between Theo and his brother Charles (Cameron Robinson).
The sound effects to signal Theo’s PTSD amygdala hijacks are effective, however, sadly the characters’ reaction to these episodes are too indifferent to be at all believable. Unfortunately, there are some scenes that seem to lose their way with some of the actors appearing to lose confidence and almost at times, seemed like they were improvising.
The simple set of a sofa, chest of drawers, two stools and an electric keyboard is mostly effective, although the keyboard takes up too much space in relation to the stage size.
Positioning and movement of characters is sometimes an issue, for example, phone calls have characters standing at the back of the set when it potentially would have worked better with them at the front. Luna’s inner voice (Henry Charnock), would arguably have worked better if coming from behind her more frequently and also it was confusing how, at times, the inner voice had a physical presence, such as when Luna’s phone was picked up by Charnock and when other characters sometimes asked who Luna was talking to and at other times they were unaware of it. This may have been a deliberate device, however, it did not seem work.
Sadly, the plot starts to lose traction in the second act, even as a work of fiction, when there is not a believable response to Theo pulling a gun on his brother during one of his traumatic flashbacks.
There seems to be a glimmer of hope to the story when Luna develops more compassion and acceptance for herself. Her subsequent scene shows promise when she is honest in disclosing to Theo that she is feeling low and then joining Theo at the piano to sing, which we assume is a joyful and healing moment for them both, then declining the advances of Theo and declaring that she feels they both need to work on their issues.
However, the final scenes are not only rushed but worrying. Luna quickly expounding the benefits of aversion therapy to Theo and exposing him immediately to what we assume is the same or similar material on his phone to what has, moments earlier, triggered one of his PTSD flashbacks. The denouement is then Theo professing his love for Luna. She shows signs earlier of developing healthy boundaries but final conversations indicate that she is taking a therapeutic role in Theo’s recovery. Yet Siobhan’s character, who sets out a very firm boundary for her own mental health by walking away from the relationship, seems to be vilified for doing so.
In summary, the idea of this play is sound in theory but it is, in this reviewer’s opinion, a poor portrayal of a very serious issue and needs significant re-working before it can be considered a credible piece of work.
Dysmorphia runs at the Etcetera Theatre until 6th April.
★☆☆☆☆ (1*)
Gifted tickets in return for an honest review
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