History often repeats itself, and the fact is glaringly evident when watching Jason Robert Brown and Alfred Uhry’s emotionally charged 1998 musical “Parade,” which has recently been revived with renewed urgency and is now on a nationwide tour. Initially, the show had a brief Broadway run nearly three decades ago. Yet, against the backdrop of the dismantling of diversity and equity initiatives, alongside the alarming rise of antisemitism both domestically and internationally, it feels as relevant today as it did then.
The musical centers on the tragic story of Leo Frank, whose 1913 trial for the murder of 13-year-old Mary Phagan was revisited in Fulton County, Georgia, in 2019. Despite no tangible progress toward exoneration, the case remains unresolved. This sad truth speaks volumes about the flaws within our justice system. Anyone willing to examine the facts, witness testimonies, and the evidence could quickly deduce Frank’s innocence. Yet, as is deeply rooted in this country, Frank was victimized by societal prejudices.
The South, still reeling from the staggering losses of the Civil War, desperately needed any victory, and unfortunately, it came at the expense of Frank, the Jewish factory manager whose sole “crime” was loving his wife and striving to provide them with a stable future. “Parade” is not easy to watch; it’s even harder to sit with afterward. From the outset, we know Frank is doomed. Projections behind the stage convey the haunting image of his abduction by Southern white nationalists on August 17, 1915, who lynched him unlawfully.
This grim reminder echoes the tragic events surrounding Matthew Shepard’s murder in 1998, another illustration of an individual killed not for any wrongdoing but simply for who he was. Unfortunately, such cycles persist. What “Parade” offers, nonetheless, is reflection. It urges us to confront our past head-on, believing genuine engagement may lead to breaking the repeating patterns.
Uhry’s book and Brown’s lyrics shine with this endeavor, making the show as impactful as “Wicked” or “Hamilton,” albeit for dramatically different reasons. Its strength lies within the exploration of complex human emotions and connections. Director Michael Arden’s vision—through intimate staging, projections, and powerhouse performances—injects “Parade” with far more impact than it had when it first debuted. It’s no surprise it won the 2023 Tony Award for Best Revival.
The beating heart of the musical rests within Leo Frank and his wife, Lucille, as portrayed by Broadway veterans Max Chernin and Talia Suskauer. This duo manages to convey the gravitas required by such heavy subject material, offering glimmers of hope amid despair. Chernin captures Leo’s quirks and the “fish out of water” mentality, particularly clear during his initial song, “How Can I Call This Home?” Suskauer skillfully embodies Lucille’s internal struggle, torn between her life’s comforts and the burdens of the trial. The depth of their performances is palpable, growing as the narrative develops.
Their duet, “It’s Hard to Speak My Heart,” is heart-wrenching and leaves audiences grappling with the tension between hope and hopelessness. The supporting cast also delivers strong performances, including Griffin Binnicker as Tom Watson, editor of an alt-right newspaper; Chris Shyer as Governor Slaton, caught between political pressure and moral obligations; Andrew Samonsky as the pompous prosecutor Hugh Dorsey; and Ramone Nelson, who provides chilling resonance as Jim Conley. Special mention goes to Jack Rowden, whose performance during “There Is a Fountain/It Don’t Make Sense” left the audience teary-eyed.
Arden’s staging is masterfully executed, with cast members consistently present, reminiscent of “The Laramie Project.” Scenic designer Dane Laffrey fills the space with wooden pews, picnic benches, and dining room chairs, arranged facing a raised central stage. Characters seamlessly flow between scenes as lighting and projections keep nearly three hours of heaviness moving along. Although Act I feels like a marathon because of its subject matter, it sets the stage for the somber yet rewarding second half.
The second act opens with two Black servants singing “A Rumblin’ and A Rollin’,” expressing frustration over the trial’s media coverage as their families are simultaneously endangered. This starkly highlights the systemic injustices at play. Audience members might find it challenging to discern when to applaud, or if they should remain silent—what does solidarity with Leo even mean? Is clapping appropriate when witnessing the brutal display of racism and Confederate rhetoric?
The answer to such questions is complex, yet “Parade”—as it did back in 1998—deserves our undivided attention. It serves as a poignant reminder of the persistent battle against bigotry and the pressing need to speak out for future generations. Leo Frank didn’t receive justice, but he transformed himself posthumously, becoming symbolic of larger issues surrounding identity and systemic oppression. Can we as individuals find our place similarly?
“Parade” runs at The Fisher Theatre in Detroit through March 9th. Tickets can be purchased online.