WAKE - Sydney Festival

WAKE

Carriageworks

“WAKE” arrived at the Sydney Festival with a thumping soundtrack, international credentials, and an appealing premise: a contemporary reimagining of the Irish wake as a communal ritual of remembrance, release and celebration. Created by Dublin-based collective THISISPOPBABY and staged at Carriageworks, the work promises to collapse the distance between audience and performer, grief and joy, tradition and pop spectacle.

The intention is admirable and culturally grounded. Irish wakes are historically social, noisy, irreverent affairs - spaces where storytelling, music and laughter sit comfortably alongside loss. “WAKE” seeks to honour that tradition by assembling a multi-skilled cast of dancers, musicians, aerialists and spoken-word performers in what is framed as a shared gathering rather than a conventional theatrical work.

What the audience receives, however, is less a ritual than a revue.

“WAKE” positions itself as a high-energy event. After some Irish jigs play as we find our seats, the live music pumps, performers circulate confidently, and the tone is unmistakably upbeat. Individually, the performers are highly skilled. Tap dancers deliver speed and stamina, aerial acts demonstrate impressive physical control, and vocal performances are strong and assured. The band is tight driving the show forward with a concert-like momentum that never really lets up.

But momentum is not structure, and enthusiasm is not dramaturgy.

As a piece of theatre, “WAKE” lacks focus and cohesion. The 90 minutes unfolds as a loose succession of acts rather than a shaped experience, more akin to a cruise-ship cabaret or a Schools Spectacular / rock eisteddfod than a work with a clear theatrical arc. One number follows another with little sense of escalation, contrast or emotional logic. The wake, as a conceptual frame, is invoked but never meaningfully deepened.

The show’s MC and spoken-word segments gesture toward reflection, connection and collective meaning, but these moments feel underpowered against the production’s default setting of maximal energy. Any possibility of stillness, ambiguity or emotional complexity is quickly smothered by the next musical cue. The result is a flattening effect: everything is presented at full volume, leaving no room for resonance.

Visually, “WAKE” leans heavily into spectacle. Costuming favours glitter, exposure and boldness, but rarely with discernible purpose beyond provocation. Men in sparkly G-strings do not make a tap-dance routine more compelling; nor does aesthetic excess compensate for a lack of choreographic or thematic clarity. At times, the visual language feels interchangeable with commercial entertainment contexts, undermining the work’s claim to ritual or depth.

There is no doubt that “WAKE” is well intentioned. Its inclusive spirit, its celebration of queer joy, physicality and collective experience, and its desire to reclaim mourning as something communal rather than private are all laudable. The performers’ commitment is palpable, and the audience is frequently encouraged - implicitly and explicitly - to join in the celebration.

Yet good intentions do not absolve a work from the need for form. Without a stronger curatorial hand, “WAKE” becomes a showcase rather than a statement. It gestures toward meaning without ever quite landing it, substituting volume, sparkle and scale for focus and development.

In a festival that regularly presents complex, rigorous international work, “WAKE” ultimately feels undercooked as theatre. Celebration, like grief, gains power through shape, contrast and restraint. Here, the party never quite knows why it’s happening - or when to stop.