REVIEW: Starry Night - Australian Performing Arts Conservatory (APAC)

Starry Night

Presented by: Australian Performing Arts Conservatory (APAC)

Venue: PIP Theatre

Date Attended: 5 August 2026

Writer: Adam Szymkowicz

Director: Sean Dennehy

Assistant Director: Nathanael Hammond

Intimacy Coordinator: Heidi Gledhill

Musical Director: Shannan Evison

Musical Director and Arranger: Simon Chamberlain

Voice Coach: Marcus Oborn

Photography: Joe Nucifora

“Everything important is a little scary.”

Hearing the opening notes of Don McLean’s ‘Vincent’ had me convinced that I knew where Starry Night was heading. It’s a ballad that I know intimately. APAC’s musical theatre students opened the show with a gorgeous a cappella arrangement. Their wistful, warm, slightly melancholic harmonies unfolded beneath projections of Vincent van Gogh’s artwork.

Despite the title, Adam Szymkowicz’s Starry Night is in fact not a play about Van Gogh. The painting becomes a source of comfort for Ashley. She is learning how to carry on after losing Eric, her partner and best friend. Directed by Sean Dennehy, the play unfolds through interconnected vignettes over one night in a small lakeside town. People paint, write in journals, swim, go fishing, sit beneath the stars, confess feelings, and try to understand one another. Ashley moves in and out of these encounters, observing other people’s stories while slowly piecing together her own.

Existentialism runs through the veins of this play. Its characters think about timing, possibility, identity, relationships, and all the uncertainty that comes with being alive. Szymkowicz threads these ideas through ordinary human behaviour; awkward, shy, defensive, curious... Every character seems to be reaching for something, even when we only meet them for a few minutes. That vignette structure gives the APAC ensemble plenty of brief moments to make their mark before the play drifts on to somebody else’s story.

Zoe Joy Smith carried much of the production as Ashley, moving through these other people’s stories while grief keeps pulling her back to her own. Smith has a naturally strong, clear voice that easily fills the space. At times, however, that strength worked against the more intimate sections of the script. Ashley’s asides to the audience sounded much the same as her direct conversations with the characters. A greater contrast in volume, rhythm, and focus would distinguish her private narration and make it feel like we were being let a little further inside her head. Still, Smith has the considerable task of carrying the bulk of the dialogue, and Ashley remains our steady point of return.

As Eric, Giorgio Impiccini exists through Ashley’s memories and imagined conversations with the man she lost. Within those recollections, Impiccini brought tenderness and warmth to Eric, while maintaining that bittersweet sense that he is just out of reach. Later, he accompanied himself on guitar for ‘A Horse with No Name’ (joined by the musical theatre students) in another glimpse of Ashley’s memories. Music has an extraordinary power to suddenly return us to a person, place, or moment. And for a few minutes, Ashley has him back with her.

Jordan Pearce gave a thoughtful performance as Herbert, Ashley’s steady companion, source of comfort, and remarkably patient friend, even if he occupies the uncomfortable position of ‘second choice’ in her life. Herbert is fascinated by all the possible directions their lives could have taken, while Ashley is less willing to indulge his “what ifs”.

The rest of the ensemble are given slivers of stage time and make the most of them. Xavier Witney stood out whenever he appeared and was also responsible for one of the funniest interludes, alongside Troy Cations, as two fishermen sharing an enjoyably peculiar conversation. Cations also got a wonderfully strange monologue when Ashley imagines that a dog she meets on a walk can speak to her. Finally given the chance to air every frustration, anxiety, and grievance he has with his humans, the dog provided one of my favourite detours of the night. I would happily watch Cations take on more comedy roles. Lauren Shaw also brought a lovely sincerity to her journal confession scene, while Skye Gerke appeared comfortable and natural onstage in hers. Both suggested strong acting instincts that I’d be interested to see more of. Nadia Thivy, Jazmyn Rademacher, Jordan Wendt, and Nathanael Hammond rounded out the ensemble across the play’s many fleeting encounters.

There is plenty of lyrical writing within Starry Night. Several beautiful lines needed a moment of silence after them. But the dialogue was delivered at a fast pace, which meant some of the play’s poetry passed by before it had time to settle in the mind. This was particularly important within Ashley’s grief. She reads Eric’s journals, imagines conversations with him, and tries to reconstruct someone who is no longer there. One of the most affecting lines comes when she admits, “I miss hearing what he thinks about things.” It’s such a simple description of loss, but such a truthful one. You don’t only lose someone’s presence. You lose their opinions, reactions, jokes, and all the tiny pieces of them that existed alongside you.

Visually, the production created a rather lovely little world. Movable black blocks sat amongst artificial grass, flower beds, and leafy scenery borrowed from PIP Theatre’s concurrent production of Love Song. A flowering tree framed one side of the stage, while the greenery established the lakeside setting. Projections of Van Gogh’s artwork gave the production a distinct atmosphere and connected Ashley’s attachment to The Starry Night with its themes of memory, beauty, and finding light within darkness. Lighting worked beautifully with the projections, with silhouettes against the lake making these private conversations seem very small beneath one enormous night sky. The ensemble appeared in black, white, and denim, while Ashley, Herbert, and Eric wore yellow to echo the glowing colours of the painting.

Vincent Van Gogh's final words were “The sadness will last forever.” Starry Night allows grief to be enormous without allowing it to become the only thing in the room. Life continues around Ashley, and healing is found in conversations, friendships, shared stories, choices, and the willingness to let another person become important to you. We begin amongst melancholy and memory beneath a painting filled with stars, then finish with the ensemble singing ‘Here Comes the Sun’. It’s a lovely musical bookend, taking us from Van Gogh’s loneliness towards the promise that darkness eventually gives way to light.

As one character wisely advises, “Enjoy being young, but try to be a bit less dumb, please.” These characters are all attempting exactly that, learning how to live, love, lose, and begin again. The production gave its emerging performers an interesting challenge, requiring them to shift quickly between comedy, naturalism, philosophy, and grief. Starry Night is a thoughtful little play, and Dennehy’s production finds plenty of sweetness, humour, and hope along the way.