At just 55 minutes, 'Shadow Boxing' packs the emotional punch of a title fight—and then some.
Presented in the gritty underbelly of St Kilda’s Explosives Factory, this one-man show isn’t just theatre. It’s a full-body confrontation with identity, shame, rage, and the tight-lipped performance of masculinity expected of boys who grow up with gloves on.
Meet Flynn: a boxer, a son, a man fighting battles far beyond the ropes. He trains, he bleeds, he endures – but what hits hardest isn’t a fist. It’s being outed in a world that equates vulnerability with weakness, and softness with failure. Played with jaw-dropping precision by Samuel Addison, 'Shadow Boxing' is a searing character study of a young man cracking under the weight of his father’s legacy, internalised homophobia, and the unforgiving performance of "being a real man".
Addison’s performance is nothing short of electrifying. He doesn’t just play Flynn – he becomes Flynn, embodying every twitch of tension, every bruised emotion, every moment of silent suffering. It’s hard to believe there’s only one actor on stage. Flynn’s internal world – and the ghostly presence of those around him – is realised so vividly, I often forget it's a solo performance. From locker room bravado to broken-boy vulnerability, Addison shifts with such physical precision, it feels almost balletic – if ballet came with broken ribs and clenched jaws.
The real brilliance of 'Shadow Boxing' lies in its refusal to spoon-feed its message. Instead, it invites us to enter the ring and feel every blow alongside Flynn – be it a punch, a slur, or the bone-deep ache of not being enough. The title itself, 'Shadow Boxing', becomes a perfect metaphor for Flynn’s inner war: a relentless fight against invisible enemies – expectation, shame, and the fear of not living up to what a man “should” be.
The staging is stark but potent. There’s a claustrophobic sense of entrapment – both in the literal confines of the boxing ring and the metaphorical trap of Flynn’s identity crisis. Red strobing lights slice through the darkness like a warning siren, pulsing with danger and dread. The sounds of punches echo in your chest. The lighting is bare and unforgiving, much like the world Flynn inhabits. There’s no where to hide, and that’s exactly the point.
What strikes me most is how deeply I feel this performance in my body. It’s raw. Visceral. Unrelenting. I’ve seen countless solo shows, but there’s something different about this one – something electric. Addison moves with such conviction, it’s impossible not to be drawn into Flynn’s torment. His physicality tells as much of the story as his words do, maybe even more.
More than anything, 'Shadow Boxing' is a study in longing – for acceptance, for pride, for peace. It captures the devastating emotional weight of growing up in a world that teaches men not to cry, not to feel, not to be soft. As Flynn stumbles through his identity and confronts what it means to be truly seen, you feel every jagged edge of that journey.
'Shadow Boxing' doesn’t just challenge toxic masculinity – it dismantles it with every breathless moment, every bruised memory, every drop of sweat. It’s a knockout performance, but more than that, it’s a necessary one.
★★★★☆ 1/2.
