The Book of Everything, currently playing at Belvoir Street, has everything and more. Adapted from Guus Kuijer’s book by Australian Richard Tulloch, the play was first brought to the stage in 2010 by director Neil Armfield with set design from Kim Carpenter for the Theatre of Image.
Set in post war Amsterdam, the story revolves around nine-year-old Thomas Klopper (Matthew Whittet) who experiences visions which cause a realignment within his strictly religious family.
Nazi occupied Holland is in the past, but new threats arise in the shape of communism and the wrath of an unforgiving Old Testament God, and Thomas is seeking his way through this landscape.
His father (John Gaden) rules the household through fear, which his mother (Claire Jones) submits to, while his sister Margot (Rebecca Massey), who Thomas thinks is silly, is also troubled by their parents’ behaviour.
Thomas befriends Eliza (Bridie McKim), a girl with a leather leg, who turns out to be a reservoir of strength, while bicycle riding feminist Aunty Pie (Pamela Rabe) also refuses to conform.
Down the street lives the mysterious Mrs Van Amersfoort (Julie Forsyth) who everyone believes is a witch, but actually is a residue of knowledge. Dropping into this mix of volatile characters is Jesus (John Leary), played more as the Dude from The Big Lebowski rather than the Son of God.
As Thomas’s visions increase, so do the beatings from his father, eventually bringing him into Mrs van Amersfoort’s world of books, which he is allowed to take home to read. Eventually there is a clash of reason over the oppression, aided by the help of Jesus and Margot.
While this story could sound like dental surgery, the stellar cast delivers it with an eye for humour, which prevents the story from falling into an abyss, and one much appreciated by the audience.
As Thomas, Matthew Whittet shows a vulnerability in what is an ultimately a sympathetic and highly engaging performance. John Gaden is perfectly cast as the religiously bigoted father, but also leaves room for a compassionate view, while Claire Jone’s mother is a well understood victim.
Sporting red gloves and a headband Gaden also doubles as Bumbiter, who keeps interrupting proceedings. Margot is the secret sauce in breaking the family dynamic and is brilliantly realised by Massey, who knows how to be sassy while navigating the father’s violence against Thomas and the mother.
McKim’s Eliza draws the attention of the audience as she wears a leather leg prosthetic as if it were a natural part of her body, and is the perfect antidote to Thomas’s increasingly disturbing visions and isolation within the family.
Rabe’s Aunty Pie bristles with life, while Forsyth’s character goes from being the witch to being the cultural light within the production. Leary is the picture perfect western version of Jesus, who can only be seen and heard by Thomas.
Forsyth, Leary, Jones and Whittet are reprising their roles from the 2010 Belvoir and the 2013 production for Melbourne Theatre Company. Set on a platform above the audience is Jack Ward, who contributes tasty piano, mellotron and bass drum music.
Neil Armfield once again proves that he is a masterful director as he keeps the large cast engaging and puts a lot of humour into their onstage business, such as Aunty Pie’s bicycle riding.
Kim Carpenter’s set is dominated by a huge book which unfolds to illustrate Thomas’s various situations is both revealing and beautiful, while scaffolding provides seating positions for the cast while they are out of scenes.
It is amazing to think that this story of the triumph of rationality over bigotry and sexism was originally written for a children’s book, but these adult themes are treated with a such sense of magic, wonderment and compassion that The Book of Everything is an ultimately rewarding experience.
The Book of Everything
Upstairs Theatre – Belvoir St Theatre, 25 Belvoir Street, Surry Hills
Performance: Wednesday 26 August 2026
Season continues to 20 September 2026
Information and Bookings: www.belvoir.com.au
Images: The Book of Everything – photos by Brett Boardman
Review: John Moyle