In the heart of New York City, a musical unlike any other has stirred both laughter and outrage, packing a 150-seat venue night after night while igniting fierce debate about the boundaries of satire, cultural memory, and the politics of representation. "Slam Frank," a satirical reimagining of Anne Frank’s story, has become the talk of the town, with its sold-out run at AsylumNYC drawing crowds as diverse as the show’s own cast of characters—and critics.
The premise is as audacious as it is controversial: Anne Frank, recast as "Anita," is portrayed as a pansexual Latina hiding from Nazi occupation with her neurodiverse family and a non-binary love interest. The attic, in this reworking, is not just a place of refuge but a stage for a kaleidoscope of marginalized identities, each grappling with their own struggles and triumphs. Musical numbers see characters swapping yellow stars for rainbow-colored pronoun pins, and the attic’s inhabitants commune with ancestors lost at border crossings, all set to a "Hamilton"-style spoof score.
According to Daily Mail, the show began as a viral Instagram parody by Jewish composer Andrew Fox, who initially joked about creating a production to make "Latinx girlies feel included in the Holocaust." The parody struck a nerve—and a chord. It soon blossomed into a full-fledged production, structured as a play-within-a-play in which a fictional theater troupe attempts to "decolonize" Anne Frank’s story. The humor quickly spins into the absurd, with each character discovering new marginalized identities and the audience left to wonder whether to laugh, gasp, or both.
The show’s creative team features Fox, whose score is described by The Spectator as "every bit as sharp as those by Lin-Manuel Miranda," Joel Sinensky on the book, and Sam LaFrage, the artistic director of an LGBTQ-themed children’s theater company, at the helm as director. The production is a joint venture with Stagetime NYC, a company known for its work with puppets and strippers—an unconventional pedigree for an unconventional show.
Despite a publicity budget of less than $60, "Slam Frank" has been a runaway success, selling out 28 of its 34 scheduled performances at AsylumNYC. Its run, which began on September 17, 2025, is set to close on October 26, 2025. The buzz has been fueled by word of mouth and a cheeky social media campaign that mocks the language of "wokeness." The show’s Instagram page, for example, asks, "How many of the six million Jews killed in the Holocaust never got to experience the joy of gender euphoria?" The account has amassed nearly 90,000 followers, a testament to its viral appeal.
But for all its popularity, "Slam Frank" has not escaped controversy. A petition launched by Broadway blogger Joy Rosenthal has called for the immediate cancellation of the play, accusing it of trivializing the death of Anne Frank and the Holocaust itself. The petition, which has garnered over 600 signatures, states: "Turning her story into a 'slam' or any form of entertainment that prioritizes shock value over historical reverence is not only inappropriate—it is deeply offensive. The Jewish community, Holocaust survivors, and educators around the world have worked tirelessly to preserve the dignity and lessons of this history. 'Slam Frank' undermines these efforts by reducing a profound tragedy into a spectacle, risking misinformation, desensitization, and mockery of the very real pain millions endured. Art and theater must be held to a standard of responsibility, especially when dealing with topics of such grave human suffering. There are ways to tell difficult stories creatively and thoughtfully—this production, however, fails to honor the memory of Anne Frank and all victims of the Holocaust."
Andrew Fox, the show’s composer, has responded to the criticism with a mix of humor and candor. Speaking to Daily Mail about the backlash, Fox said, "Besides the devastating effect this tidal wave of criticism has had on my mental health (I have RSD—Rejection Sensitivity Disorder), the petitions and outcries have been extremely bad for our sales. When our shows started selling out weeks in advance, we had hoped that we would be able to turn away dozens of hopefuls in our standby ticket line—but now, due to all the negative coverage, we only turn away half-dozens. We request some privacy, so that we may grieve with our chosen family. We hope the haters are happy with themselves."
Within the show itself, the satire is relentless. The opening gag features a land acknowledgment "in honour of whoever they are who were here first," poking fun at the performative rituals that have become commonplace in modern theater. Characters like Peter, Anita’s non-binary love interest, voice the challenges of living authentically in a world of rigid expectations: "Outside, they’re fighting a war, but in here, I’m fighting expectations!" Another character, based on Auguste van Pels, proclaims, "If we had Eva Braun instead of Hitler, there would be no genocide!" The show’s humor is sharp, often shocking, and intentionally walks a tightrope between provocation and empathy.
Audience reactions have been anything but uniform. According to The Spectator, Alex Lewis, who plays Peter, remarked that the show appeals to audiences "from centre-left to near-far-left and everything in between," suggesting that its targets are not any particular group but rather the "performative politics" that have come to dominate cultural life. One Jewish critic even noted, "The show’s real target isn’t Jews (or Nazis, for that matter) but the performative politics that have come to infect so much of cultural life."
Supporters of "Slam Frank" compare it to the irreverent hit "The Book of Mormon," praising its willingness to provoke and its refusal to play it safe. They see it as a much-needed antidote to the sanctimony that sometimes pervades contemporary theater. Detractors, however, argue that the production crosses a line, trivializing one of history’s darkest chapters and disrespecting the memory of Anne Frank and the millions who perished in the Holocaust.
What’s perhaps most remarkable is the show’s ability to generate conversation across the political spectrum. Its satire is so layered that audiences are left to interpret whether the joke is on them, on the culture at large, or on the very idea of making such a show in the first place. As the curtain prepares to fall on its limited run, "Slam Frank" leaves behind a city abuzz with debate about art, memory, and the ever-shifting lines of offense and inclusion.
For now, "Slam Frank" stands as a testament to the enduring power of theater to shock, provoke, and—just maybe—make us laugh at ourselves, even when the subject matter is deadly serious.
