ANNIE
ANNIE, John Frost for Crossroads Live Australia at the Capitol Theatre, 3 April-21 June, then Melbourne, and Brisbane. Photography by Daniel Boud: Debora Krizak and Amanda Lea LaVergne. Annie & company. Annie, Anthony Warlow, and Greg Page
The return of Annie to Sydney began with the announcement on opening night that the performance was dedicated to Jill Perryman, Hayes Gordon, Kevin Johnson, and Nancye Hayes – who appeared in the first Australian production in 1978! It was a heartwarming gesture from a show that’s been all heart since it opened on Broadway in 1977. At the Capitol in 2025, it only got better.
It’s set in 1930s New York in the Great Depression, and somewhere even more depressing: an orphanage for girls where a bunch of little tykes squabble and survive. Played lightly, it’s poignant rather than unbearable as Annie takes care of a new and weeping inmate. Distinguished by her flaming red hair, Annie sings “Maybe” – of the hope that one day her parents will claim her. Shared by four performers, Annie is either Beatrix Alder, Matilda Casey, Stephanie McNamara, and on opening night: the electrifying and super excellent Dakota Chanel. She cheers the girls in their grey clothes and grey environment. Then Miss Hannigan appears.
The manager of the institution is permanently sozzled and embittered. It’s a pivotal role as she represents all that’s bad in adulthood while surrounded by smiles, benevolence, and niceness, and Debora Krizak absolutely nails it. She’s a mean, skanky bitch for the ages and everything else can flow on from that, starting with the girls scrubbing the floors – “It’s A Hard Knock Life”.
It’s quaint to think that 50+ years ago it didn’t seem peculiar that a lonely billionaire could order up an orphan girl to spend Christmas at his mansion, which is what Oliver “Daddy” Warbucks does. And because he’s the much-loved Anthony Warlow, it’s totes okay. (Also, of course, he’s not today’s billionaire, and although on first-name terms with the President – the admirable Franklin D Roosevelt, not the current crazy creep – he merely wants to get his factories reopened rather than direct the fate of nations and elections.)
It’s all going swimmingly in the capable hands of the gorgeous, overlooked but soon-to-be-realised love interest secretary Grace Farrell (Amanda Lea LaVergne), then trouble turns up. Naturally, Miss Hannigan has a feckless crook for a brother, and Keanu Gonzalez as Daniel “Rooster” Hannigan arrives with his current squeeze Lily St Regis (Mackenzie Dunn) who was named after the hotel and is a grifter to match her beau. When Daddy Warbucks makes an appeal for Annie’s parents to come forward – with a promise of $50,000 – guess who decides she’s their long lost kiddiwink?
At 2.5 hours with an interval long enough to secure a Choctop, Annie is still a delight for all ages, particularly little girls who have the rare pleasure of seeing themselves in multiples of singing, dancing terrors on the big stage. The Tony Award-winning book and score by Thomas Meehan, Charles Strouse, and Martin Charnin means the eternal anthem “Tomorrow” is just one of a string of hummable songs. An orchestra in the pit, led by David Piper is a further delight, and if you find yourself wondering at Craig Wilkinson’s projected cityscapes that prominently feature Pepsi Cola – yes, Joan Crawford’s fizzy pop corporation sponsored the original production!
A further boost for the school holidays is that one-time yellow Wiggle Greg Page is a delightful FDR and obliterates the ghastly memory of Alan Jones desecrating the role in the last Sydney production. The show is directed by Karen Johnson Mortimer and there’s sharp new choreography from Mitchell Woodcock. Costumes are still credited to the late Kristian Fredrikson and why mess with great outfits?
Featuring a typically fabulous company of Australia’s singing/dancing talent, led by dazzling principals and the famous stray mutt Sandy (who winningly sat down for a good scratch while Annie was belting her heart out) this is a show for the ages and all ages. For all optimists in dark times: “The sun'll come out tomorrow. Oh, you gotta hang on 'til tomorrow..."
