Men at work with pens: Missives from the heart
Queensland Theatre’s moving production of Dear Son knits together letters to their kin by prominent Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander men.
A fire pit sits on the sand as five First Nations men gather by the water to shoot the breeze and enjoy a barbecue. One of the group (Aaron Pedersen) struggles to pen a letter to his boy, so his mates step in to make space for him, and his story.
So begins Dear Son – the timely world-premiere adaptation produced by Queensland Theatre in partnership with State Theatre Company South Australia. The play is framed by the 2021 book of the same name edited by Thomas Mayo, which knits together letters from prominent Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander men to their kin.
Director Isaac Drandic has assembled a cast whose storytelling styles and strengths complement each other. Trevor Jamieson is quick to earn a laugh in numerous scenes, and also performs a plaintive song or two by Troy Cassar-Daley. Waangenga Blanco is in his element leading (and choreographing) several dance passages, providing a glimpse of his accomplished career with Bangarra Dance Theatre.
In one of the show’s most touching scenes, Kirk Page plays a man whose father is gravely ill in hospital during the COVID-19 shutdown. As he drives past the hospital each day, the son shouts out in Wiradjuri, the ancient gift his father has given to him and his siblings.
But it is Jimi Bani, a familiar presence on Brisbane stages, who anchors the production. He is a natural orator and narrator, and calls on that authority to accentuate moments of drama and draw out comic moments when they are needed.
Dear Son shines brightest in its moments of quiet reflection
The episodic nature of the source material provides multiple entry points for Drandic and co-adaptor John Harvey to draw upon. It also poses some challenges. Each scene is led by one of the actors, who becomes the writer of the respective letter, while the others fill out the characters required by the retelling. Some of the vignettes contain enough context, while others would benefit from a greater set up or a different angle, so that the audience can better understand the dynamic between the letter writer and his recipient.
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Given the geometry of the fan-shaped auditorium, and the slats of Kevin O’Brien’s functional set, Craig Wilkinson’s video design is not fully visible from every seat. But we cannot avoid the long list of hateful and racist things that Indigenous men have been labelled as these words swim over the stage during a scene recalling the start of the 2007 Northern Territory Intervention. Another sequence depicting the horrors of the Don Dale Youth Detention Centre is chilling.
Dear Son shines brightest in its moments of quiet reflection. It is here that the performers demonstrate solidarity with each other, and by extension, with all men. Theatre can struggle to draw male audiences, and this work will hopefully grow, and in its gentle, compassionate way, encourage Australians from all walks of life to speak their truth, learn from each other and heal together.
Dear Son plays the Bille Brown Theatre, South Brisbane, until July 19.