Sincerest Apologies
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Date Reviewed: 12/07/2025
There are few acts more intimate, or more universally fraught, than the act of apologising.
On a cool July evening in Bondi Pavilion’s Seagull Room, Sincere Apologies, dreamt up by Roslyn Oades and David Williams and written by Dan Koop, Jamie Lewis, and David Williams, invited a small group of strangers, myself included, to sit together and confront the awkward, often unspoken terrain of regret. As a component of 2025’s Bondi Festival, what unfolded was not just a performance, but a gently unsettling mirror held up to our collective conscience, asking each of us: What does it truly mean to be sorry?
Entering the Circle
“Unexpected” became the word of the night. Like many, I arrived with a sense of nervousness, wary of being called upon to reveal something personal or to witness others do the same. The Seagull Room, with its beautiful, intimate setting and circular arrangement of fold-out chairs around microphones, set the tone. It became a space that felt both exposed and safe, reminiscent of a support group where confessions and regrets might tumble out.
The evening began with a playful twist: a “pass the parcel” of a single gold envelope. When the music stopped, the ‘winner’ slowly rose and moved to the center of our circle. As a makeshift MC, he handed out 50 golden envelopes and announced we would offer apologies to one another. I watched faces flicker with anticipation and unease. When envelope 38 landed in my lap, I felt a curious mix of reluctance and intrigue. I’m not usually the first to raise my hand, but there was a magnetic pull in the room, a sense that something important was about to happen, and I didn’t want to miss it.
The Weight of Words
What followed was a slow, unfolding tapestry of apologies, some famous, some obscure, some heartbreakingly personal. We laughed together at the bravado of Conor McGregor’s “apology to absolutely no one,” and fell silent as we revisited the gravity of Kevin Rudd’s “Sorry Speech” to the Aboriginal community. But it was the quieter, more vulnerable moments that lingered. I will not soon forget the older gentleman who approached the microphone, voice trembling, to read the apology following the fourth coronal inquest into Azaria Chamberlain’s disappearance. His tears reminded me how apologies are not just words, but vessels for grief and for empathy.
As the night unfolded, the boundaries between us as individuals dissolved, as we all bore witness to the breadth of the human experience. Each apology, whether offered by a celebrity, a politician, or an unknown husband to his wife, became a thread in a larger tapestry. We were all implicated; we were all witnesses.
Themes That Haunt and Heal
Certain themes echoed insistently: racism, environmental devastation, generational pain, and the small, everyday betrayals that accumulate in our lives. The show did not let us off lightly. It asked us to consider not only the apologies we have received, but those we have failed to make. In the final moments, as voices layered “I’m sorry,” “my bad,” and “I really apologise” into a haunting chorus, I felt the words reverberate in my chest. It was as if the room itself was breathing out regret.
What We Owe Each Other
Leaving the Pavilion, I found myself walking slowly along the darkened beach, replaying the night in my mind. Sincere Apologies had quietly unsettled me. It forced me to confront the gap between words and intention, between regret and true accountability. I realised how often we use apologies as a balm, a way to move on, rather than as a genuine attempt to repair what has been broken.
But more than anything, the experience reminded me of the profound tenderness at the heart of being human. To apologise sincerely is to acknowledge our capacity to hurt and be hurt, to recognise our shared frailty, and to reach, however imperfectly, toward forgiveness.
In a world that often feels fractured by indifference or pride, Sincere Apologies was a timely and moving reminder that we owe each other more than just words. We owe each other honesty, empathy, and the courage to make amends. Only then, perhaps, can we begin to heal together.