Ruth Agnew reviews At the Wake, by Victor Rodger, directed by Tanya Muagututi’a, at the Court Theatre, Satrday 18 July 2026.
Recently a friend told me we have reached the age of funerals; we have moved through the era of every weekend being crammed with 21st parties, weddings, christenings, and reached a time in our lives where obituaries operate as society pages, funerals are the event of the week, and sensible dark dresses are pulled out of the wardrobe more often than gold glitter hot pants. They are good opportunities to catch up with people from our past, to relive old memories, and strengthen family ties. This is the basic premise of Victor Rodger’s At A Wake, directed by Tanya Muagututi’a, a play that begins after someone’s death and ends at a wake where family secrets will be revealed.
Robert (Seiyan Thompson-Tonga) has returned home from New York for his mother Olivia’s funeral. We meet him as he is getting ready at his grandmother’s home. Joan’s (Susan Brady) first line establishes she is not the kind of nana to sit and home and knit booties, and the topics of conversation between her and Robert further confirm this; from dog poop missiles to anonymous hook ups, it seems nothing is taboo between these two. It is not until much later in the play that it becomes clear that there are some subjects that have remained unspoken. The catalyst for secrets to creep out of the family vault is the arrival of Tofiala (Jake Tupu), Robert’s father, at the funeral.
There is no mask of propriety to be worn for this occasion, with scandalously inappropriate topics thrown around before Olivia has been laid to rest. Rodger’s irreverence puts the funny into funeral, and the ake into wake.
The trio of actors are all extremely capable, confidentially handling the emotional heavy lifting the script demands. Each character is nuanced and well formed. Robert is a young man navigating the path between the two cultures he was born into, and longing to form a connection with his absent father now that his mother is gone. Thompson-Tonga’s strong performance makes for an impressive Court Theatre debut. Former actress and eternal Diva Joan exists in a cloud of nicotine and contradictions, condoning homophobia with one breath, and making racist remarks with the next. The chipped surface grandeur and writhing insecurities just under the surface of Joan’s skin are beautifully captured by Brady. Tupu gives Tofiala complexity and makes him likeable for the audience, despite Joan’s clearly articulated views on his past behaviour.
Chris Reddington’s brilliant design cloaks the stage in a mourning veil, with the characters interacting over a central cross, embodying symbolism of intersecting cultures, Christianity, and the flags of Scotland and Samoa. Giles Tanner’s lighting design adds another layer of complexity, illuminating private moments and casting shadows on others.
I’d spent the afternoon prior to watching this play at the celebration of life of a dearly loved teacher and writer. Family and friends gave speeches and read pieces of poetry and prose that reminded them of this wonderful woman. It was clear every person who spoke saw her differently from the next, but she was seen. This part of the funeral was missing for me in the play. For most At A Wake, I felt the absence of Olivia. While she was spoken of often, we learnt more about her relationships with people, or loss of them, than her as a person. I wanted to hear who she was to Robert and Tofiale and Joan, what she did and things she’d say and what made her laugh.
One aspect of the script that I absolutely loved was Rodger’s use of quotations from other texts. The beauty of borrowing words from others is that they come preloaded with connotations, already packed with emotional ammunition. The use of Viola’s “make me a willow cabin at your gate” speech from Twelfth Night is pure poetic perfection. If I am now in my age of funerals, I can only hope to find myself at the kind with $300 whiskey and Shakespearean verse.
At the Wake runs until Saturday 15 August 2026.
Flat City Field Notes 