Prepare to be captivated by the powerful and moving theatrical experience that is Dear Son. This extraordinary production brings to life a collection of essays by Indigenous fathers, offering a unique and intimate glimpse into their lives and the profound impact of fatherhood.
Imagine a group of five Indigenous men, their voices carrying across a coastal beach, as they share stories of trauma, healing, and the deep emotions that often go unspoken. It's a raw and vulnerable display of camaraderie, much like the essays themselves, written by prominent Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander men.
Among the essayists are writer and journalist Stan Grant, country singer Troy Cassar-Daley, and NRL player Joe Williams. Their words have been adapted for the stage by director Isaac Drandic and co-adapter John Harvey, who skillfully shift moments between past and present tense, enhancing the dramatic impact.
The actors, including Jimi Bani, Kirk Page, Tibian Wyles, Waangena Blanco, and Drandic himself, each take on two or three letters, interweaving their stories without introducing their characters by name. It's a powerful choice that emphasizes the universal nature of their experiences.
Bani, a charismatic storyteller, brings Yessie Mosby's rite-of-passage essay to life, depicting a father's fight for his children's future in the Torres Strait, where global heating threatens their ancestral burial grounds. Page delivers a moving performance of Stan Grant's essay, exploring the scars left by Australia's toxic masculinity and the dehumanizing policies and media.
Wyles, with his beautiful singing and guitar skills, takes us through Cassar-Daley's optimistic essay about breaking the cycle of growing up without a father. He showcases his range, from a startled white woman to a white man married to an Aboriginal woman, based on Charlie King's loving essay about his father.
Blanco, the choreographer, excels in the story written by footballer Joe Williams, expressing regret and begging for forgiveness for his past partying and alcoholism. The evocative sound design, lighting, and projected video elements enhance these emotional moments.
Drandic, stepping in at the last minute, delivers a performance that, while not as strong as the others, highlights the challenges of adapting such powerful essays. It leaves one curious to see how Luke Carroll would have interpreted these stories.
The denouement of Dear Son is a powerful and dramatic climax. Wyles acts out Joel Bayliss's essay, holding his baby as he receives the news of his mother's death. The scene is a gut-wrenching portrayal of grief and the impact of systemic issues, from the abuse at the Don Dale Youth Detention Centre to Bill Leak's controversial cartoon.
But here's where it gets controversial: Bayliss's response to Leak's cartoon was a powerful act of love and resistance. He posted a photo of himself with his children, sparking a national movement known as #IndigenousDads, celebrating Indigenous fathers and challenging racist stereotypes.
And this is the part most people miss: the final scene, where the five actors break the fourth wall, introducing themselves and sharing their real stories. It's a powerful moment of truth-telling and empowerment, leaving the audience teary-eyed and deeply moved.
Dear Son is a must-see production, running at Belvoir Street theatre as part of the Sydney Festival until January 25th. It's a testament to the resilience and love of Indigenous fathers, and a reminder of the power of storytelling to heal and inspire.
