Toby Schmitz is finally old enough for ART

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https://www.arttheplay.com.au/

Date Reviewed: 23/04/2026

For Toby Schmitz, ART, currently staged at the Comedy Theatre, isn't just about art. It’s about what people leave unsaid.

“There’s no substitute for listening,” he says, when asked about his most useful lesson at National Institute of Dramatic Art. “You can’t fake it. It’s probably the most useful thing I’ve learned, as an actor and as a person.”

That instinct to listen, to read what’s underneath, tracks across his whole career. Schmitz isn’t just a performer; he’s a writer, director, and longtime theatre mainstay who’s spent decades circling the kinds of characters who say one thing and mean another.

“Even the quiet moments speak volumes. Most great plays are about how words fail. You hear people talk all day, on the bus, on the street, on the phone, but it’s what’s underneath that’s interesting. That’s where the tension is. Reading between the lines.”

A play that never left

Schmitz first read ART by Yasmina Reza in the ’90s at drama school.

“It was this scrappy photocopy everyone passed around. We’d sit in share houses reading it out loud, trying to make each other laugh. Everyone wanted to have a crack at it.”

“It’s a classic. I wouldn’t dare touch it,” he says, sounding almost insulted when I ask him if he would change the ending.

When he first read it, he felt too young for it.

“It’s about three middle-aged men. I remember thinking I can’t wait to be old enough to really get this. And now… here we are,” he says. “I understand those friendships a lot more now than I did at 21.”

From Perth to the big stages

He grew up in Perth, in the coastal suburb of Swanbourne. A world of school productions and youth theatre slowly tipped into something more serious. At Scotch College, he found his way onto the stage early, before drifting briefly into law at the University of Western Australia, and then quickly out again. Acting won.

That pull led him to NIDA, and into an industry where, as he puts it, “there’s just more going on, more theatre, more chances, more collisions with other artists.”

More than just an actor

Schmitz has never really stayed in one lane. Onstage, he’s tackled everything from Hamlet to Stoppard, worked with Sydney Theatre Company and Belvoir St Theatre, and even taken work to Broadway. On screen, you might know him as the slippery Jack Rackham in Black Sails, or from Boy Swallows Universe.

But he’s also a playwright and now a novelist, with The Empress Murders landing in 2025. That mix of disciplines shows. There’s a looseness to how he talks about acting, but also a precision, like someone who understands structure from the inside out.

Real mates, real rhythm

Sharing the stage with Richard Roxburgh and Damon Herriman helps.

“We’re mates. We’ve known each other for years. You get a feel for each other’s rhythm — where someone’s about to go, how far you can push something.”

And yes, they push it.

“We like to surprise each other. Try something new mid scene. Sometimes it completely throws things,” he says, adding, “in a good way.” Asked for an example, he laughs it off: “Too many to recall one.”

Offstage, that closeness sticks.

“You’re not just seeing each other at the theatre. It’s breakfast, airports, dinners. You see how people actually live, how they deal with children, routines, and pressures. There’s something quietly revealing about that; a kind of domestic wisdom in it." 

When men crack

At its core, ART is about men finally saying what they mean, and not handling it well.

“There’s a tendency for men to keep things in,” Schmitz says. “That’s why this play works. These three start saying what they really think… and it unravels fast.”

Schmitz plays Yvan, the peacemaker.

"Vulnerability is a lovely thing to play," he says.

“Ivan just wants everyone to be okay. He’s affable, eager to please, which can be a bit irritating. But he’s a good guy. A genuinely nice person. You’d introduce him to your mum.”

It’s still play

For all the acclaim, stage awards, international runs, a career that’s moved easily between Shakespeare and screen, Schmitz doesn’t overcomplicate it.

“It’s play. The day it feels like a grind, I’ll stop.”

That looseness comes with experience.

“We know how to handle the nerves. But we also know how to tap into that childlike thing — that sense of mucking around, discovering something new each night.”

Melbourne does its thing

Melbourne, naturally, adds mood.

“I was on my balcony at dawn the other day, completely swallowed by fog. It felt theatrical.”

He quotes Gwendolyn in The Importance of Being Earnest: “Pray do not talk to me about the weather, Jack.”

In ART, of course, it’s not the weather that causes the storm, it’s a painting. A very expensive, very white painting.

So what ends a friendship

Push him on what really breaks a long friendship, and he pauses.

“Murder,” he says. Then: “Although… depends who you kill.”

Fair.

Toby’s tip before you see the show

“Go to the bathroom before it starts,” he adds. “Apparently if you leave, you can’t get back in.”

I ask him if this is a common issue. “I don’t know, but I think people should go for a wee. I know that my bladder would’ve appreciated having this information earlier.”

The Comedy Theatre is at 240 Exhibition St, Melbourne, and performances run until 17 May.

Interviewed by Mary Sinanidis