Walking into Belvoir St Theatre felt like reconnecting with an old friend, one whom I have had multiple warm experiences with over the years, and Dear Son only deepened that relationship. Those who know me are aware of my self‑preservation from “spoilers”, so I walk into these situations with just the bare bones of what delight is about to unfold. I was unaware what other “old friends” would be part of this powerful experience.
When director and co‑adapter Isaac Drandic stepped onstage before the show to tell us that Luke Carroll was ill and could not perform, I was briefly disappointed, having known Luke in my youth and followed his career since. Brief is the key word, because it was announced he was being replaced by Aaron Pedersen, an actor who once showed me immense kindness when I was a wide‑eyed Melbourne wanderer in another life, and whose work I also hold in very high esteem. In other words, I already knew I was in for quite a treat before a single word was spoken.
Dear Son, based on the book by Thomas Mayo and adapted for the stage by Drandic and co‑adapter John Harvey, gathers five Indigenous men in what feels like a coastal “men’s shed” to ask, again and again, “What is it to be a man?” through letters, yarns, song and embodied storytelling. The set design by Kevin O’Brien creates warmth and place with deceptively simple means: sandy ground, a rustic wooden covering, two park tables and a glowing sunrise upstage, an inviting representation of a communal gathering space that is both specific and symbolic. It immediately feels connective, it feels personal.
Our five Indigenous actors – Jimi Bani, Waangenga Blanco, Kirk Page, Aaron Pedersen and Tibian Wyles – begin by waving reverently to the audience as words are projected behind them. Video designer Craig Wilkinson’s projections fill the upstage screen with terms like “Father”, “Son”, “Artist”, “Protector”, held by these strong, proud figures as they claim space and create warmth, before those words are undercut and complicated by others that have been used as weapons against Indigenous people for generations, ushering us into Act 1: Letters of Struggle.
The group moves between letters to fathers and sons, shared conversation, humour that is deliciously specific, and moments of song supported by composer and sound designer Wil Hughes’ evocative soundscape. They unpack the impacts of colonisation and the generational trauma wrought by acts of violence, malevolence and cruelty, while also honouring resistance, love and the everyday work of breaking cycles. Lighting designer David Walters gently shifts us through time and tone, from campfire intimacy to something closer to ceremony, with haze and shadow allowing the stories to sit in a liminal, memory‑like space.
The individual performances are powerful, moving and deeply poignant, and the ensemble work is quietly transcendent. It is hard to believe that Pedersen has entered the fold so recently; he integrates with a calm, centred presence that never pulls focus from the collective but deepens it. Wyles often anchors the musical moments with guitar and voice, Bani brings an easy charisma and storyteller’s ease, and Page moves deftly between gravitas and wry humour. Blanco, who also serves as choreographer and movement director, gives the production its physical language.
These stories unite the men in shared trauma, and a far more powerful desire to transcend it by breaking the walls of toxic masculinity down. It’s an important dialogue and unpacking for men, but they are also very clear on the importance of women in their stories and how respect for women should be centred.
There are familiar public figures and stories represented amongst the letters and the production was beautiful, emotional and powerful, but the real tear‑jerker was when each artist shared their own personal lived experience and a meaningful piece of themselves in reverence to the vulnerability they have been celebrating and advocating for throughout.
Dear Son is an important and deeply moving work of First Nations theatre that should not be missed.
To book tickets to Dear Son, please visit https://belvoir.com.au/productions/dear-son/.
Photographer: Stephen Wilson Barker
