Sydney Reviews

When talk of hate speech dominates daily discussion, it is so refreshing to attend the theatre and hear hope speech, an accentuating of the positive while acknowledging the negative.

Dear Son is not just a play. It’s an epistolary packing production, adapted from the book by Thomas Mayo. The book is an anthology of letters written by First Nations men to their sons or fathers bringing a range of perspectives about masculinity, culture and racism, life and love.

Audiences may well consider where were the hate speech laws when the invective against the indigenous, slurs of black bastard and boong were hurled in public? And to ponder generations stolen, schooled, enslaved. Profiled and vilified.

Yes there are scars of Australia laid bare in Dear Son, but there is much humour too, a salving balm that promotes healing and connectivity. Iridescent irony an ingredient of building bridges not walls.

Isaac Drandic, director and co adaptor with John Harvey has fashioned these letters into an evening of storytelling around a fire, an outback, backyard incinerator, with five exuberant actors threading an enthralling narrative yarn.

Jimi Bani, Waangenga Blanco, Kirk Page, Aaron Pedersen, and Tibian Wyles form a quintessential quintet of characters commenting on community and culture and interpersonal relationships. Blanco is also choreographer and movement director and it’s a celebratory joy to see these five fellas dance.

Set design by Keven O’Brien is simple and evocative, soil underfoot and corrugated roof awning, an incinerator drum front and centre, an eternal flame. Practical realism melding with supple symbolism. Craig Wilkinson video design offers stark projections of the written word as well as an hilarious back projection of a cross continent bike hike. Wil Hughes musical composition and sound design give redolence of country as does David Walters resonating lighting.

Dear Son is packed with an ebullient spirit and a hope shared by all fathers for their sons – a better world and a better future.