The Diary of Anne Frank

Imagine being thirteen years old.

Imagine leaving the only world you've ever known to hide in a secret annex with strangers.

Imagine not being allowed to be who you are.

Imagine being targeted simply because of your race.

History tells us this happened. The heartbreaking reality is that, in different ways, it still does.

The Diary of Anne Frank is one of those stories many of us read in high school. I know I did. Ironically, I was around Anne's age when I first opened those pages, yet I never truly understood the weight of her words. At thirteen, it was simply another book on a reading list.

As an adult, I finally understood.

This production gave me that understanding.

From the moment the lights dimmed, the State Theatre was transformed into a world that felt authentic, intimate and lived in. The set design immediately draws you into the cramped reality of life in hiding, while the lighting quietly becomes another storyteller, guiding your emotions without ever demanding your attention.

After the performance, I asked director Drew Anthony about one of the staging choices that had captivated me: the moments where members of the cast simply stood, silently observing. I said that for me, it felt like memories of moments.

His answer was beautiful.

“They're the ghosts of the past.”

The moment he said it, everything clicked.

Throughout the performance, they became more than actors waiting for their next scene. They became memories. Witnesses. The echoes of lives forever changed. It is a simple theatrical device, yet one that adds extraordinary emotional depth to an already powerful story.

At the centre of it all is Chloe-Jean Vincent.

Remember that name.

She captures Anne Frank with remarkable honesty, balancing the exuberance, humour, stubbornness and innocence of a thirteen-year-old girl while allowing us to witness the quiet loss of childhood as the story unfolds. It is a performance filled with heart, courage and vulnerability.

I've admired Lisa Adam since seeing her in Clinton: The Musical, and once again she completely captivated me. Her ability to portray genuine human emotion is extraordinary. Every performance reminds me why she is one of Western Australia's finest performers.

Then there's Matt Dyktynski.

Matt and I shared the stage in We Will Rock You during 2020, when Perth became the only place in the world still performing large-scale musical theatre while COVID had brought the global industry to a standstill. He's one of the nicest people you'll ever meet.

Which made it even more satisfying that his performance here genuinely frustrated me.

That's the mark of an exceptional actor.

When someone so kind in real life can make you dislike their character so completely, they've done their job brilliantly.

The supporting cast deserves equal recognition. Every performer contributes to the emotional heartbeat of this production, creating an ensemble that feels authentic, connected and deeply invested in telling Anne's story. There are no weak performances—only artists working together to honour one of history's most important voices.

More than eighty years after Anne Frank wrote her diary, her words continue to remind us where hatred, prejudice and intolerance can lead if left unchecked. Through moments of humour, hope, fear and unimaginable heartbreak, this production asks us not simply to remember history—but to learn from it.

Visually, the production is stunning.

The imagery lingers long after the curtain falls.

And then came one of the most unforgettable moments of the evening.

The standing ovation.

I've experienced many standing ovations filled with cheering, whistles and celebration.

This wasn't one of them.

The audience rose together in complete silence.

No shouting.

No applause breaking into cheers.

Just sustained, heartfelt applause from an audience that seemed almost too moved to speak.

I've rarely experienced anything quite so powerful.

There were a few minor sound issues throughout the performance, but it was opening night, and they were far outweighed by the quality of the storytelling unfolding on stage.

People often say that theatre is dying.

Tonight, as I looked around a completely full State Theatre, I couldn't help but think:

“Perhaps theatre isn't dying at all. Perhaps incredible productions simply need to begin in Perth.”

This is theatre at its very best.

It educates.

It challenges.

It reminds us of our shared humanity.

Most importantly, it ensures that Anne Frank's voice continues to be heard by another generation.

A powerful, unforgettable piece of theatre that deserves to be experienced.

Walking into the dimly lit State Theatre Centre, the first thing that struck me was the crowd. The theatre was packed to the brim. It made me smile because it reminded me that, despite what we sometimes hear, live theatre in Western Australia is alive, well and deeply supported.

But there was something different about the atmosphere that evening.

There was excitement, yes, but it was laced with an unmistakable heaviness. Almost a quiet mournfulness. It felt as though the audience collectively understood the weight of the story they were about to witness.

I’ll admit, I didn’t.

Somewhere along the way I’d clearly blocked out most of those high school history lessons. My memory of The Diary of Anne Frank was vague at best, and if I’m honest, it wasn’t a story I particularly relished seeing brought to life.

Then the curtain revealed the set.

An immaculate, multi-level recreation of the Secret Annex. Every room felt lived in. Every piece of furniture looked as though it had held years of whispered conversations, quiet laughter and unimaginable fear. It was beautiful… and somehow heartbreakingly sad at the same time.

That feeling never left me.

This review has been one of the hardest I’ve written.

How do you adequately describe the life of a thirteen-year-old girl forced into hiding with her family in Nazi-occupied Amsterdam? Add another family, a complete stranger, and two years confined to a handful of rooms while the world outside collapses into one of history’s darkest chapters. It’s almost impossible to comprehend.

Having worked with Drew Anthony Creative before, I’ve known for a long time just how brilliantly this company tells stories. But telling this story requires something more than talent. It requires compassion. Respect. A genuine understanding of the people whose lives you’re entrusted with portraying.

So before I mention a single performance, I’d simply like to thank Drew Anthony, Rachel and the entire Drew Anthony Creative team for continuing to bring productions of this calibre to Western Australian audiences. They don’t just entertain us; they remind us why theatre matters.

And what a cast they assembled.

Phil Bedworth’s Otto Frank was the quiet heartbeat of the production. His gentle, dignified portrayal left me constantly wondering how any father could continue leading and comforting his family under such impossible circumstances.

Alongside him, Holly Easterbrook’s Edith Frank carried an almost unbearable sadness. Her performance beautifully captured a mother desperately trying to hold her family together while the world around them fell apart.

Matt Dyktynski delivered a wonderfully layered Mr Van Daan, while Lisa Adam matched him every step of the way with a deeply human and emotionally raw Mrs Van Daan. Their relationship felt authentic—strained, loving, frustrating and vulnerable. After two years trapped together in hiding, every emotion felt earned, and both actors captured that beautifully.

Kingsley Judd as Mr Kraler and Grace Tolich as Miep each made lasting impressions despite their limited stage time. They quietly reminded us that courage doesn’t always wear a uniform; sometimes it simply looks like ordinary people choosing kindness.

Jamie Jewell was outstanding as Jan Dussel, creating a character full of nuance and individuality. His detailed character work brought welcome moments of tension, humour and humanity.

Emma Smith and Nathan Hampson brought a gentle warmth to Margot and Peter. Their youthful innocence provided moments of tenderness amongst the relentless uncertainty surrounding them.

But without question, the crown jewel of this production was Chloe-Jean Vincent as Anne Frank.

From the moment she stepped on stage, she radiated youth, hope and honesty. She reminded us that Anne wasn’t simply a historical figure; she was a teenage girl. Curious. Funny. Stubborn. Emotional. Full of dreams.

There were moments watching Chloe’s performance that reminded me of my own granddaughter. That same fearless honesty. That same refusal to apologise for feeling deeply. It made Anne’s story all the more devastating because, for a while, you stop seeing history and simply see a child.

By the end of the evening I wasn’t just watching a play.

I was remembering people.

The Diary of Anne Frank isn’t an easy night at the theatre. Nor should it be. It’s confronting, heartbreaking and, at times, incredibly difficult to watch.

But it’s also profoundly important.

I laughed. I smiled. I felt anxious. I found myself holding my breath. And by the end, I was completely heartbroken.

That’s exactly what great theatre should do.

Five smiling theatre masks out of five.

This isn’t simply a production I’d recommend.

It’s one I believe everyone should experience.