The Book of Everything

Neil Armfield has this wondrous ability as a director to take the charming and make it magical; to find the inner child in all of us; to have us willingly suspend disbelief. I still remember crying with joy and wonder through his 1999 Cloudstreet production, and The Book of Everything, though not quite in the same league, evoked a similar response.

The story, set in Holland in 1951 and told from a nine year old boy’s point of view, is about life, and isn’t that everything? A fearful father who believes all the answers are in the bible, so he never has to make a judgement based on common sense; a downtrodden mother, fighting for the courage to say no; a wilful daughter ready to rebel; an old witch neighbour who turns out to be a kindly old neighbour who, in turn, is a witch after all; a girl whose beauty is marred by a creaking leather artificial leg; an Aunt who stands firms and asserts her right to make her own choices, including that of wearing trousers if she chooses, a bum-biting dog, a musician; and a wildly imaginative and innocent boy who talks to Jesus:- these are the materials Armfield and his cast work with to create this marvel.

As Thomas Klopper, the nine year old who is writing his “Book of Everything”, Matthew Whittet is nothing short of brilliant. His walk, his mannerisms, his intonation and uncertainty, without any obvious display of technique, all give an honesty and truth to the geeky role which convinces us he is “going on ten.” Peter Carroll’s fundamentalist father is heartbreaking. The character is hateful, yet Carroll’s experience brings humanity and depth to the role (he is also endearing as the dog, The Bum-biter). Alison Bell always impresses as an actress and as daughter Margot she simmers and seethes and pays lip-service to obedience, all the while looking like a time bomb waiting to explode. When she does, we hold our breath. Andrea Demetriades is tragically warm and appealing as the 16 year old girl with a handicap whom 9 year old Thomas falls in love with; and Claire Jones is totally convincing as the mother torn between love of her family and duty to her husband. John Leary’s Jesus is wonderfully unpretentious as he tells Thomas that he has trouble with his Dad too, and Genevieve Picot shows once more that she is one of our finest character actresses, as she makes Aunt Pie a believable three dimensional early feminist. Then there is the fabulous Julie Forsyth, complete with huge bustled bottom (perfect fodder for The Bumbiter), who gets to pull out all the stops, and then some, as the OTT witch Mrs Van Armerstoort. She is delicious. Add to this the considerable talents of musician Iain Grandage, plus a delightful set and costuming from Kim Carpenter, and one would be hard pressed to think of a single reason why this should not be the triumph that it is.

But it’s Armfield’s direction that shapes the whole, that allows actors to stay on stage and create sound effects, that makes a plague of frogs out of the mundane item that every child can recognise, that creates a sea of blood from red cordial. It’s a wonderful experience for grown-ups who still nurture that inner child. My only reservation is whether this morality play is truly suitable for young kids, with its explicit take on domestic violence. Several children near me were visibly upset at seeing a father land punches on a mother’s stomach. It’s a small niggle, and parents must make up their own minds. One thing is certain, it’s a marvellous piece of theatre.

Coral Drouyn

Image: Alison Bell (Margot) and Matthew Whittet (Thomas). Photo © Heidrun Lohr.