Image: Abbey Matt as Anne Frank. Photograph via Maitland Repertory Theatre.
The true story of a thirteen-year-old girl and her family forced to flee the Gestapo, trapped with four other Jews in an attic annex in Amsterdam, has become justly famous. Yet each retelling of this story seems to connect with contemporary issues, now more than ever. It is eerily appropriate that the directors of The Diary of Anne Frank – Lesley Coombes and Guilherme Noronha – should have chosen to produce this play now, when borders are shutting across the world, walls of word or brick are being hastily erected, or people who consider the US a second home suddenly find the welcome mat torn away. The play feels oddly contemporary, as if it is happening now or in the near future.
The Diary of Anne Frank is interspersed with Anne narrating extracts from her diary, yet the true focus of the play is the relationships between the people in the annex, and their relationships with themselves. In this claustrophobic space, starved of news of the outside world, small problems take on a monumental significance. The division of a sugar cake, the sale of a much-loved fur coat, a dwindling supply of cigarettes: all these matters push the characters towards conflict. Even the set seems designed to bring forward this sense of being trapped. Walls collapse inward, people are constantly forced into each other’s space, the only true privacy is the WC. Once the actors appear on stage, they remain on the set, adding to this sense of forced engagement.
The script uses the techniques of counterpoint and foreshadowing to great effect. Scenes of light humour are contrasted with moments of sudden tension: the sound of a lone vehicle driving past the building is enough to immediately transform the atmosphere within. Beautifully, tragically, Anne writes in her diary of wanting to live on past her death. She has nightmares of being dragged from the annex by the Gestapo. When she calls out in her sleep, she is comforted by her father, but another character rages that her cries have endangered them. This flicker of contrasts continues throughout the play. It creates a poignancy and emotional resonance that stayed with me long after the performance had finished.
Like the characters, the audience finds themselves pulled in diametrically opposed emotional directions. After Otto calmly tells his family and friends that they must stay absolutely silent between the hours of 8am and 6pm, when workmen are downstairs in their building, the sudden noisy rivalry of the teenagers Anne and Peter seems heartbreakingly perverse. The growing sense of unease builds throughout the narrative. With the characters at each other’s throats, and their protectors’ brave attempts to feed them positive news, the world within the annex turns in on itself. Mr van Daan, desperate for cigarettes and food, fights with his wife and sells her beloved fur coat. Each character faces their own deepest fear.
The greatest strength of this play is the powerful relationships that emerge on stage. Forced into each other’s space, the characters fight, laugh and forgive, communicating a rich portrayal of individuals caught in the long, slow slide of history. Each person becomes a microcosm of the world. We, the audience, are immediately reminded of the tragedy of a single death, let alone that of millions. There has never been a better time to be reminded of our own humanity.
Rating: 4 stars out of 5
The Diary of Anne Frank
by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett
Directed by Guil Noronha and Lesley Coombes
The Cast:
Anne Frank – Abbey Matt
Otto Frank – Ian Robinson
Edith Frank – Dimity Eveleens
Margot Frank – Giverny Burke
Mr Van Daan – Brian Randell
Mrs Van Daan – Jo Cooper
Peter Van Daan – Chris Henderson
Mr Dussel – Oliver Pink
Miep Gies – Anna Balfour
Mr Kraler – Alastair Anderberg
Maitland Repertory Theatre
