The Diary of Anne Frank - Drew Anthony Creative (17 April 2025)

Complete quiet. Between 8am to 6pm. Every day. Day after day. For a little over two years. Talking nothing above a whisper. Unable to use the facilities. Or move about in other than stockinged feet. Lest a noise attracts unwanted attention. The sort of attention that could lead to your death. A fear and constant dread that is unfathomable. Yet amongst this horror comes an extraordinary testament written by a teenager, only thirteen when she was gifted what would become her famous diary. It's a true life tale that demands the utmost respect and care when being adapted for screen or stage.

Director Drew Anthony, up to this point best known for crowd-pleasing musicals, ventures into the world of drama for the first time well aware of the enormous responsibility he's undertaken. From the choice of the 1955 adaptation by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett that saw them win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama; to the staging of the production at the prestigious Heath Ledger Theatre; the attention to detail in the presentation of the set; and a committed cast wonderfully led by Chloe-Jean Vincent as Anne Frank. 

In Vincent, Anthony has found an actress who embodies the many facets of the title character - from childlike innocence, petulance, rare insight for one so young, stubbornness, a growing sexuality, and the frustrations that come with being cooped up inside for so long, mainly with adults. It's a wonderful performance that is captivating and heartbreaking. It's a role that demands subtlety and nuance as Anne has a frosty relationship with her mother Edith (Holly Easterbrook), a much closer one with her father Otto (Phil Bedworth), and various complications with the other characters including the three years older Peter Van Daan (Nathan Hampson), initially an annoyance who slowly becomes a tentative romantic interest. We also never lose sight of Anne's literary ambitions and her belief in the essential goodness of humanity, punctuated by moments of terror in harrowing nightmares. 

The other standout is Bedworth who imbues Otto Frank with a decency and stoicism that is quietly compelling. We empathise with a man desperate to keep his family and his guests, the Van Daans, safe at all costs. We understand without question why such a dignified and compassionate man would not hesitate in accepting the risk of another lodger entering the secret annex in Jan Dussel (Jamie Jewell). 

Vincent and Bedworth are surrounded by a cast of well drawn performances. Easterbrook makes for an elegant Edith Frank who laments the lack of warmth from Anne before her frustrations explode in the second half; Asha Cornelia Cluer, by contrast, is showier and increasingly fraught as Petronella Van Daan, a beloved fur coat the cause of several disputes. Matt Dyktynski portrays Putti Van Daan as a ticking time bomb of grievances that threatens any sense of fragile harmony. Ciara Taylor is quiet and reserved as Anne's older sister Margot who is beloved by all; Jewell brings a touch of theatricality as the outsider who becomes increasingly exasperated at having to share a room with Anne and is none too kind about Peter's clumsiness. Hampson navigates a tricky arc from juvenile antagonist to shy confidant and maybe something more with endearing skill; while Kingsley Judd and Grace Tolich are earnest and kind as the loyal helpers who provide food rations and news from the outside world. 

While the situation is bleak there are many moments of warmth, camaraderie, and good natured humour as we are immersed in this hermetically sealed world. Yet human foibles, unrelenting pressure, and the claustrophobic nature of their confinement lead to relationships fracturing as the tension mounts. It's an emotional rollercoaster not only for the characters but the audience as well. We are never left in any doubt as to the stakes with two swastikas, that horrid and despicable symbol of hatred, omnipresent as they hover over the set. Shocking too is the yellow Star of David with Jude inscribed in the centre which the Franks and Van Daans have been forced to wear in the outside world of 1942 Nazi occupied Amsterdam. They are quickly ripped asunder once inside the bookcase concealed refuge. 

Production Design (Drew Anthony), Scenic Build (Rosie Martin), and Scenic Artwork (Jesse Kaserer) create a sombre toned representation of the impressively realised, multi-tiered annex from the attic Peter resides in to the many other bedrooms and shared living space. Costumes (Coordinator, Annette Stivaletta) are also muted in tone and style with two notable exceptions - the aforementioned hint of ostentation with Petronella's fur coat, and, in the second half, with a seeming nod to Schindler's List, the red dress Vincent wears which is a sign of Anne's growing maturity. 

One element I did trip on was the deliberate choice not to use props other than significant items such as the diary itself. This meant there was a significant amount of miming by the actors when dealing with 'paperwork' or 'presents' in the Hanukkah sequence or the consumption of food and drink. Given the attention to detail for all the other elements such as the movie star posters Anne tapes to her bedroom wall this had a tendency to jar.

Lighting design by Christian Lovelady adds to the sense of claustrophobia and foreboding when needed with characters in darkness and shadow but also lends warmth to more positive sequences. Notably, scenes where Anne is reciting passages from her diary as she writes are bathed in a spotlight with the rest of the set concealed in darkness. Audio design by Jordan Gibbs is critical to give a sense of the tumult outside their hiding place including the changing nature of the war as air raids become an increasing reality as the Allies prepare for D-Day and blessed liberation of Europe. 

Yet there are two sounds that cut to the bone - the clatter of a fallen chair, and Petronella's frantic tirade at one point that had me cringing in horror, silently begging her to stop. Such engagement is testament to the immersive nature of the world that had been created.

Their discovery when it comes is gut-wrenching and sad because we know it's all too real what happened. The bookends of Otto returning to the annex to recover the diary are emotional and respectful as we learn of the others' fate, including Anne who died of typhus in a notorious concentration camp. This leaves the audience emotionally devastated yet buoyed by the honesty of the performances. 

As of writing, the production has finished its current run. I believe there are discussions for it to be mounted in other states with a possible return to Perth at some stage. There is no doubt this is a well-acted and moving piece of theatre that highlights the resilience of the human spirit even in the face of unspeakable barbarity. A well-timed reminder of what's worth fighting for even to this very day.

Dead Man's Cell Phone - KADS (11 September 2024)

The cell phone or mobile phone in our parlance. Back in 2007 when Sarah Ruhl's play premiered the first iPhone was only a few weeks away from being introduced. In the 17 years since, digital devices have fundamentally changed how we communicate, how we consume entertainment and news, and how we conduct our daily lives. Arguments rage about the pros and cons of such a massive sea change with governments now seeking to restrict access to social media and apps - two things ushered in and accelerated by smartphone technology - on an age basis. That initial iPhone would probably look quite quaint to us now but it changed the world.  

The play purports to explore how this technology separates us and brings us together. Having seen two different productions in the last year I would contend it does so only on a superficial basis. Which may be quite understandable - how could Ruhl have known how addictive the mobile device would become when coupled with insidious algorithms and apps designed to maximise screen time?  

The dramatic conceit of the play is a clever one, albeit one that has a baked in question that is problematic. A woman eating alone in a cafe hears a mobile phone constantly ringing. She approaches the owner of said phone only to discover - as an audience member so helpfully exclaimed - that he is dead. She answers the phone... 

Thus begins a cascading series of events as Jean (Louise Fishwick) becomes entangled in the dead man's affairs as she continually answers calls from his mistress, his mother, and, what we later find out to be, shady business associates. 

I wonder why. The excuse given is that answering the phone will keep the memory of Gordon alive. A man she does not know. Okay, that's a lovely if somewhat abstract sentiment but it doesn't explain Jean's compulsion to lie and dig herself into deeper holes as she tells Gordon's mistress, mother, wife, and brother blatant fabrications about his last words. It makes me ponder how many people are already dead... a conundrum that deepens as the play slides into surreal territory in the second act. I suspect there is no definitive answer and the play remains elusive on this front. 

I enjoyed Fishwick's earnest portrayal as Jean. The lies feel more impulsive and never knowingly malicious, assisted by a natural Scottish accent. Julie Holmshaw is a delight as the eccentric mother of the dead man who switches from acerbic observations to performative grief with relish. Clare Alason brings casual bitchiness to the mistress, Carlotta, and an exaggerated air to "The Other Woman" in the second act's airport scene that catapults us into strange territory indeed. 

Federica Longo-Huntington's moment as Hermia comes in the bar scene where she plays the always tricky 'drunk' with flair. Usman Banday is awkward playing an awkward character in Gordon's brother. I was never quite sure where I stood with his representation of Dwight. The burgeoning romance with Jean is oddly sweet yet unconvincing. The dead man himself is played by Paul Cook who comes to life in the second half as he narrates the events before his death. This halting monologue had Cook searching for the words and emotions. He fares much better in Gordon's later interactions with Jean as we revisit that fateful cafe in a totally different context.   

Director Phil Bedworth has made many interesting choices, some forced on him by the unique challenges of the small performance space at KADS. The play scoots along and felt much shorter than the previous incarnation I saw last year while retaining all the same scenes. Bedworth leans into the ambiguous nature of the setting by using a stark set design and stripping out ambient noise (except for the airport scene) - are we in perpetual limbo or purgatory or...? This is aided by the stagehands wearing masks suggesting a ghostly presence as set changes are made. These are slow but accompanied by some great music choices from the late 60s/early 70s. Restricted viewing from the back rows makes characters lying down an issue such as in the stationery sequences. 

The one overtly thematic sequence about the mobile as connective tissue, even between worlds, is visually interesting with props, costume, and lighting design as otherworldly figures surround Jean and Gordon, however, the sound of the phone messages needed to be far crisper to be understandable.

This is an unusual play that has several moments of black comedy. Its twists are enigmatic and this sponsored healthy debate afterwards. For me, putting the technology aspect of the phone aside, the main message is our aching need to be told we are loved and to embrace that, even from beyond the grave. 

Dead Man's Cell Phone is on at the KADS Theatre in Kalamunda until 21 September. 

Hands On A Hardbody - Wanneroo Repertory (27 June 2024)

What would you be willing to endure to win a chance to change your life? A question that has enormous relevance amidst a cost of living crisis with seemingly no end in sight. It's the premise for this unusual and deceptively simple musical: ten contestants in an east Texan town compete to win a hardbody pickup truck. The catch? You must keep a hand on the truck at all times (no leaning mind you!) except for periodic breaks. In the searing Texan heat. Day and night. For as long as it takes to be the last person standing. 

That basic narrative allows for a surprisingly rich character study with a lot on its mind thematically. These are people on the margins of society who are forced into desperate acts by crippling economic circumstances. They want a better life for themselves, their loved ones, and for those left behind due to discrimination, racism, war and the inequities of the capitalist system. The story has a specific American hue but it's not difficult to imagine the Australian equivalents gathered around a Ute in a large country town. 

There is a ring of authenticity about the contestants who vary in age, background, and lived experiences. It comes as no surprise then that the musical is an adaptation of a documentary about the real life annual contest. But it's not just the competitors who vie for the chance to win the truck and either sell it to fund their dreams or use it to travel to better destinations; the people running the contest, the truck dealership, fall prey to similar economic realities as they cynically use the publicity to try and drive up sales. The smell of desperation lingers over the whole endeavour.  

Like any good tale about ordinary people pushed into extraordinary circumstances, there is also great humour and camaraderie here amongst the inevitable conflict. It may only be a truck but the stakes are high because we understand the characters' motivations and empathise with them. 

There are times this felt more like a play with songs as there are long stretches of dialogue scenes. However, the songs, when they come, are easy on the ear with an unmistakable country rock, guitar driven sound and adroit lyrics. They are well played by a nine-piece orchestra in the pit under Musical Director Shaun Davis and, on the whole, well sung though there are some weaker voices amongst the standouts. There were some sound balance and mic pickup issues on opening night but they will be quickly rectified.  

Directors David Nelson & Jane Anderson smartly tackle the obvious constraint of having the majority of their cast anchored to a pickup truck - if they can't move then the truck must! What a marvellously designed and constructed truck it is by Set Designer & Builder Mal Anderson. The truck not only looks great but has some practical features including being able to be wheeled around by the cast. In a charming little touch the truck even gets a final bow.   

As befitting the economic status and location, Costume Design by Colleen Johnson features a lot of denim, open flannel shirts worn over t-shirts, and sneakers, all with a real lived-in feel. Lighting Design & Operation by Peter Giles and Allison Mack effectively creates the various times of day with some pizazz added for the radio spots, dealership signage, and moments where contestants become a little delusional. 

The performances are an interesting mix of understated versus large. In the latter category Breeahn Carter's Heather is a bundle of energy who becomes increasingly unhinged, high on uppers supplied by the unscrupulous organiser Mike (Ben Mullings) who picked her to win because she'd look good in the subsequent promotions. Helen Carey gets to ratchet up the southern angst, especially when her Janis works out the whole thing is rigged in It's A Fix aided by her doggedly supportive husband Don (Brad Beckett). The production takes advantage of Lukas Perez's soaring vocals in the gospel flavoured Joy of the Lord, an infectious Act One highlight that collides into another highlight that couldn't be tonally more different as Riley Merigan's returned marine Chris floors everyone with the realities of serving overseas in Stronger. 

Joshua Hollander and Brittany Isaia work well together as Greg and Kelli who form a burgeoning friendship that could become much more. Amber Wilson gives Cindy Barnes somewhat of a conscience when it comes to the contest and dealing with Mike. However, Cindy's treatment of Rodrigo Goncalves De Azevedo's Jesus is an eye-opening snapshot of the fraught attitude towards immigration in the southern states even as De Azevedo replies with the plaintive Born In Laredo.  

Christian Dichiera gets to play both sides of that performance divide as his Ronald first makes a strategic error involving the consumption of candy bars in a spectacular flameout before later returning to be a considerate helping hand to Perez's Norma. The central relationship, however, is between cocky former winner Benny (Phil Bedworth) and Chris McCafferty's J.D. who is beset with physical frailties but determined to win. He is too proud to accept his wife Virginia's fussing over him and Gillian Binks delivers a beautifully sung rejoinder in Alone With Me. McCafferty's acting is impressively understated and he leads what is perhaps the most thematically resonant number, Used To Be, that harkens back to simpler times. Bedworth, likewise, closes Benny's arc in style with God Answered My Prayers. 

This isn't a toe-tapping, flamboyant musical in any sense. It won me over because it was a thematically rich character study with a Tony-nominated score that is well presented and performed. Well worth taking a look with performances running until 13 July at the Limelight Theatre in Wanneroo.  

The Normal Heart - GRADS (2 November 2023)

For me, one of the most magical occurrences in a theatre is when an audience goes completely silent as if holding its collective breath while watching a moment onstage. It's as if we dare not interrupt the alchemy unfolding before us. It feels primal and, in some miraculous way, time stops for the briefest instance. Such a moment happened during a monologue in the 2nd act of playwright Larry Kramer's damning indictment of the response to the burgeoning AIDS crisis in early 80s New York. 

Phil Bedworth's character, Bruce Niles, recounts the events leading up to his partner's death and its immediate aftermath. It is shocking, heartbreaking, and feels utterly authentic in its specific details. Bedworth conveys the desperation and disbelief of losing a loved one under these circumstances with an empathy that is stunning. It is an emotional highpoint of the production. 

This is where the play is at its most effective, detailing the human cost of a disease that was, at the time, ignored by the media, shunned by politicians, and barely grasped by the medical profession. The character of Ned Weeks (Zane Alexander) is based on Kramer himself who became a gay activist in response to an increasing number of his friends becoming sick and subsequently dying. He was instrumental in forming a crisis organisation and notably railed against New York mayor Ed Koch for not doing enough to fund an effective response. Kramer proved to be so confrontational that he was eventually ousted from the organisation he helped create. He did, however, raise awareness of a health crisis that would become a worldwide epidemic.

Given this, the writing roils with outrage and condemnation. Characters deliver tirades of facts and figures. There is a lot of finger pointing, both literal and figuratively, as arguments rage over the lifestyle of gay men; their right to sexual freedom; comparisons to the fate of the Jews in World War 2; the nature of love; and who is to blame. There are even announcements of the number of cases reported by the CDC that increase as the months go by. Ned mentions a few times the forty men he knows who are sick. At first it all felt a little too abstract and intellectual for mine. I wanted to see the people behind the numbers. The highlight of the first act, therefore, was the argument between Ned and his brother Ben Weeks (Dean McAskil) whose reluctance to support Ned is viewed as a betrayal and sign that Ben considers him 'sick'. 

While the first act is still powerful and disquieting the play opened up for me in the second half when the personal toll is more fully explored. That relationship between brothers is fleshed out; Ned's own partner Felix (Steven Hounsome) becomes ill; the clash between Ned and the more diplomatic president of the crisis organisation, Bruce Niles, escalates; friendships within the group are tested; and ultimately Ned has to face his own mortality reflected in his lover's fate. 

Director Barry Park has assembled a fine cast and wisely stages the production in a black box space with minimal set or props so that the focus is squarely on the performances. He is assisted, however, in no small measure by an excellent original score by Myles Wright that accentuates moments of high emotion with great subtlety. 

Accomplished performer Zane Alexander is rarely off stage as Ned Weeks who is deliberately written to be obnoxious. Alexander rises to the occasion in an outburst at mealy-mouthed government official Hiram Keebler (Phillip Steele-Young) where Ned simply can't contain his anger. There is the similar outburst directed at his brother but it's in the deepening crisis of Ned's own relationship where Alexander really shines. Kramer and Park put him through the ringer as the so-called firebrand struggles to deal with Felix's condition. It's a very physical performance with lots of big gestures and hand motions that, given how precise a director Park is, can only have been a deliberate choice. The actor had to gather himself before his final bows after reaching a crescendo of anguish and unconditional love in the closing scene. 

Steven Hounsome plays an excellent foil with his Felix being straight forward and practical compared to the histrionics of Ned. He too navigates a fraught emotional arc with great skill. Phil Bedworth delivers that devastating monologue and projects decency as a man committed to the cause but at odds with Ned in how it should be prosecuted. 

Anna Head impresses in a tricky role as Dr. Emma Brookner. Not only confined to a wheelchair, most of her dialogue feels like a diatribe designed to convey facts and figures as the 'medical representative'. However, Head imbues Brookner with a genuine sense of compassion as she fights what seems a losing battle. This is epitomised in another outburst that builds in rage until it explodes in a flurry of papers as the doctor's request for funding is denied.  

Dean McAskil makes for a compelling visual counterpoint to Alexander - he towers over the more slightly built man which is symbolic of the brothers' relationship in many ways. The lawyer, at first, seems more preoccupied with material wealth in the form of a new house than his brother's activism but there is another moment of compassion when Felix visits him to engage his services. McAskil doesn't oversell the complicated relationship with Ned which leads to a satisfying arc.

Adam Poole has a standout moment as Mickey Marcus as he launches into a monologue that verges on hysterical but given the context was earned and a jolt of theatrical adrenaline. He tackles it with a full on intensity that was even more notable given it's quite a long speech. Jordan Holloway adds a sly sense of humour (and yes, there is a certain wry humour throughout) as Tommy Boatwright which is a welcome departure from most of the more earnest characters. 

This is a much lauded script tackling an important issue that resonates to this day with the Covid-19 pandemic an immediate comparison. I could sense the playwright's vitriol and that often bursts into life but every now and then this production felt somewhat too polite and measured. If ever there was a character and an issue that invites a full-blown assault it is Ned Weeks and the egregious handling of the AIDS crisis. Having said that, this is a talented cast and consummate director bringing to life a complex script and that is to be applauded.  

The Normal Heart is on at The Actor's Hub in East Perth until 18 November 2023.

The York Realist - Garrick Theatre (23 July 2023)

I admit that at the start of the matinee production of The York Realist I wasn't listening properly. This wasn't helped by the unfortunate late arrival of two patrons who eventually found their seats, noisily. After they finally settled I concentrated on the scene before me to slowly come to the realisation that it wasn't what was being said but rather everything that wasn't. The first half of the play in particular, written by Peter Gill, is a masterclass in subtext. The surface level dialogue certainly establishes a strong sense of time and place and the characters who populate this tale but there's so much more simmering away underneath. 

That time and place is the early 1960s in a cottage in York where a "love that dare not speak its name" grows in tentative fashion between country farm labourer George (Alex Comstock) and London assistant theatre director John (Sean Wcislo). Both men are drawn to each other but due to circumstance and the vastly different worlds from which they come their longing is fraught with complication. None more so than the fact that such a consummated love was still illegal in Britain. 

There's another strand that is subtly communicated whereby George's mother (Lis Hoffmann) is in poor health which anchors George to the family home despite his desires. Then there's George's sister Barbara (Louise Plant), Barbara's husband Arthur (Phil Bedworth), George's nephew Jack (Keaton Humphreys), and family friend Doreen (Roxanne O'Connor) all of whose interactions give an authentic sense of family and community. These are decent, hardworking people who go to chapel, work the land, and look out for each other.  

Once I understood the play's framework I began to see what was happening rather than trying to glean meaning from the 'domestic' conversations taking place. In this director Barry Park excels with an elaborate choreography between Comstock and Wcislo as their characters come to terms with such intense feelings. 

I was fascinated in the space between them onstage, how that changed, who was moving forward, who was retreating, who was initiating contact, who was declining or accepting it. There was also the clearly delineated persona of each character - Comstock makes his George far more animated in a very likeable performance. We feel George's sense of frustration, of duty, of longing to break away from the strictures of his lot in life. 

Wcislo, by comparison, is mostly still, very upright, with his arms straight down his sides, hands palm down. It's as if his John is literally in an emotional straight jacket. Their work together is very good indeed. Helped by another layer - the oft mentioned play within the play that is John's excuse to be there and George's excuse to initially hide. George is, in fact, a good actor; a man pretending to be someone else. The relevance is not lost on the audience. 

There is a significant tonal shift after intermission with the opening scene playing in almost sitcom fashion as the family discuss John and George's play. It's genuinely funny, especially Hoffmann's Mother expressing disbelief that her son George could be so nasty. We have another time jump and again everything is so beautifully revealed instead of any direct exposition in the writing and the performance of such. It's here where the other cast members really shine - Bedworth has an affecting moment as his Arthur refuses to go have a pint with George. This comes shortly after a surprise revelation that skitters off into the ether with hardly a ripple other than to set the possible context for Arthur's response.

Plant's Barbara comes to the fore as brother and sister bicker, their love and concern for each other clear but strained. There is an emotional truth that resonates in these moments of heightened sibling drama. O'Connor imbues her character with a gentle comic streak as Doreen remains largely oblivious to what's really going on. Humphreys, remarkably only 15, is a likeable Jack. His projection wasn't as good as the vastly more experienced actors around him but given his age it's a minor quibble. Hoffmann provides the glue for the family interactions with sly humour, genuine parental concern, and nuanced signs of Mother's frailty.  

The final moments of the play are rightfully between John and a George who, in theory, has become untethered from a son's duty and loyalty to place. Yet these men are both trapped in their own worlds and more importantly the greater world's expectation of who they are meant to be and how they should act. There is no coincidence that 'realist' is in the title. 

Immeasurably aiding the authentic nature of this production is the set design (Barry Park), the depth of which I loved. There is a real sense of a lived in cottage; spatially, how it's dressed, and working elements such as the running water in the kitchen sink. Mark Nicholson's lighting design reinforces this by giving the illusion of both the interior and exterior of the cottage, bigger than you might expect with Garrick's narrow stage. Nyree Hughes' costume design isn't showy which suits these characters down to the ground. Finally, at no point did the Yorkshire accents pull me out of the story so kudos to dialect coach Phil Bedworth. 

The York Realist is a very well written play that has a lot going on under the surface. It is sensitively directed by Barry Park with excellent performances across the board. This is mature theatre of a high standard that is well worth a look. There are two more performances in the extended season on at 7.30pm, 27th and 29th of July at the Garrick Theatre in Guildford.