The Diary of Anne Frank

After seeing this show, I needed another drink. And I’d already had several in preparation. The name “Anne Frank” has a ring that not many other historical names can match. That ring is one of shame, heartache, anger and life, life, life. I cannot say I am thankful for it, but it is appropriate that this production brought those same words to mind. Sam Thomas’ cast and crew have recreated a miniature epic that necessitates a cautionary word to ourselves and a warm regard for how we treat others. I left the theatre as I should have after such a show: troubled. For this reaction, the show deserves a substantial accolade.

It’s difficult to move from the emotional reaction to the show but I must address its technical aspects. The direction, characterisation and staging belong to an era we think long gone but this production has a message for cosmopolitan Sydney: it’s not. The conservative direction, large cast ensemble and strict adherence to a realist genre attest to how present our traditions are within us. In the mid-20th century, an ancient religion passed through the mother’s gene dictated over six million deaths; now, those same traits of xenophobia, selfishness and egotism, see us on the brink of great violations towards similarly stateless people that come to Australia.

In this review, I must give naught but praise to the cast and crew. The energy that Justina Ward injects into Anne Frank is achingly life-affirming. I walked in wondering why the production was here and now and walked out knowing. See Sam Thomas’ production of The Diary of Anne Frank.