Some artists shift the air around them, and speaking with Kirk Page felt exactly like that. A multidisciplinary First Nations artist of Munanjali and Torres Strait Islander heritage, Kirk’s career spans acting, choreography, and directing, shaped by his training at NAISDA and his work across productions such as Black Diggers, Wudjang: Not the Past, The Harp in the South, Conversations with the Dead, and Priscilla Queen of the Desert. He carries all of that history into the conversation with a grounded generosity. Less like a formal interview and more like being invited into the deeper engine of his practice — the place where craft, culture, and lived experience meet.

That same honesty sits at the heart of Dear Son, which launches Belvoir Street Theatre’s 2026 season. Created in response to harmful public narratives and the fallout of the referendum, the work gathers the voices of Aboriginal fathers speaking directly to their children. It is shaped by vulnerability, cultural strength, and the collective care of its creative team – a reminder of how theatre can hold both tenderness and resistance.

So without further ado heres Faith’sTop 5 with Kirk Page. Let’s get yarning!

Q1. You’ve acted in and directed acclaimed TV dramas like Redfern Now and Mystery Road. What shifts for you when telling stories on screen compared to the immediacy of live theatre?

I really love the fast pace of TV. You have to move quickly, and that challenge keeps you sharp. But I prefer theatre. I love the process, the rehearsals, the repetition, and having the time to really chew into something. I love layering the characters and understanding what’s happening between the people on stage, how the scenes work, and how the relationships are written. That’s always exciting for me. Television is probably a bit nicer on the ego because you get to see yourself looking pretty slick on a screen, but theatre is where I feel the most connected to the work, the place where everything breathes differently.

Q2. What personal memories or community stories surfaced for you during the process, and how did they shape the way you stepped into the different voices and stories you embody in Dear Son?

The really important and delicate thing about this work is that it is about men being vulnerable. We don’t often get to hear or see men, especially Black men, Aboriginal men – share their deep feelings and thoughts in this country. The biggest surprise for me was finding the vulnerability to tell these stories without talking through an actor’s lens or a manufactured character. We are trying to connect with these stories as Aboriginal men and as Aboriginal parents and fathers, while also reflecting on our own fathers and those relationships. That has lifted the lid on how our older generations think and feel about being parents and what the challenges are in living in this country as brown‑bodied people. There is a lot of joy and hope in the work too, but the honesty of it has been confronting and beautiful, the way truth sits inside the work.

Q3. As both an actor and choreographer, how has your movement background – through physicality and presence – helped you bring the letters in Dear Son to life so audiences feel them as lived experience rather than just words?

We have a wonderful movement director, Waangenga Blanco, who has choreographed some of the work. Coming from a physical background as a dancer, I understand the power of gesture, the positioning of the body, and how we respond in space. That’s always a fun thing to map out and see how it can support the storytelling.

There is some beautiful movement in the show, but a lot of it is standing and delivering. The directors have called for moments of real stillness, and the stillness becomes an action in itself, just as much as choreography. The physicality has been carefully curated so that some moments are embodied and some are direct address. Even though I’m older now and not as agile as I used to be, that background still shapes how I work, letting the body tell the truth.

Q4. Working with director Isaac Drandic, writer–producer John Harvey, and fellow performers Jimi Bani and Waangenga Blanco, what creative exchanges most influenced your interpretation of Dear Son?

The biggest influence came from the honesty everyone brought into the room. Because these are real people’s stories, the whole team approached the work with a sense of responsibility and care. The creative exchanges were grounded in trust and respect, and that shaped how I stepped into the material. Everyone was committed to getting to the heart of the stories, and that collective focus made the work feel alive, a shared space where truth guided the choices.

Q5. What bigger conversations about fatherhood, culture, or reconciliation do you hope the play sparks for audiences?

Audiences hear these men telling their stories directly, and that honesty is powerful. People are surprised and inspired by the depth the men draw from, especially when the stories come from real challenges and difficulties faced by Aboriginal men over the last few decades. We think we’ve come a long way, but in many ways we’re going backwards. Hearing these stories from the men themselves — not as headlines or social media posts – makes people stop and think. It connects because everyone is either a father, a son, a parent, or has a father figure.

Bonus Question! What was one question you were hoping I would ask and what is your answer?

It wasn’t so much a question I hoped you’d ask, but one I hoped you wouldn’t:

• How does it feel to be a successful actor?

I don’t know if I’m successful. I’m working a lot, and I’ve had a good year with two extraordinary new theatre works, but the question that feels more important is: How do you maintain being a professional human in the world? Across family, professional spaces, and social spaces, how do we keep reminding ourselves what really matters? When I’m having a rough time or getting carried away with my thoughts, I bring myself back to the basics — having enough to live, having a place to stay, relationships with friends and family, happiness, and where joy lives. That question settles me. It brings me back to what’s important.

Dear Son plays at the Belvoir Street Theatre 8-25 Jan 2026. For further details see: https://belvoir.com.au/productions/dear-son/

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