There are few numbers in musical theatre that are more viscerally striking than the opening salvo of Parade. Waving around a large Confederate flag flanked by a chorus of actors fanned across the stage while marching in time like a darker version of Les Miserables, the show starts by foregrounding American symbols of hate and intolerance, thereby setting a sinister tone for a story about injustice. Parade focuses on events culminating with the extra-judicial lynching of Leo Frank in 1915, a Jewish citizen of Atlanta convicted of murdering 13-year-old Mary Phagan. Frank is consistently and derisively described by his community as “a college-educated Yankee,” fueling suspicion of his guilt. Jason Robert Brown’s score and lyrics, Alred Uhry’s book, and Michael Arden’s direction bring forward Frank’s otherness within his community, manifested in the shared suspicions about his background, behavior, and beliefs.
Parade thus stages a singular story of injustice that serves as a metaphor for America’s civil and social struggles throughout the twentieth century, especially in the South. We watch as Frank is stripped of his agency and rights as he comes face to face with intensifying prejudices and discrimination—a situation reflected by the Black characters in the story like a choral commentary reinforcing the inimical rot they experience at the heart of Southern culture on a daily basis. They too must bend—reduced to sacrificial pawns—in the face of a game waged against Frank by Georgia’s attorney general, who seeks a conviction at any cost in furtherance of his political ambitions. At every turn of the story, the legal, civil, and even religious forces of society work to push Frank further to the margins of that society, believing they are absolved of Frank’s unjust and untimely death.
As mentioned above, the musical opens on Atlanta’s 1913 Memorial Day Parade for veterans of the Civil War (“The Dream of Atlanta”)—flags, banners, and nostalgic sentiments are bandied about by the citizens of Atlanta, celebrating a bye-gone South that only ever really existed in story. Amid their unsettling (and strikingly current) nostalgia, we are introduced to young Mary Phagan (Olivia Goosman) and her wannabe-beau, Frankie Epps (Jack Roden). Mary playfully rebuffs Frankie’s requests for a date as she goes to pick up her paycheck (“The Picture Show”). Meanwhile, we meet Leo Frank (Max Chernin) and his wife, Lucille (Talia Suskauer), as he prepares to leave their house, hoping to avoid the parade on his way to work as supervisor of the same pencil factory where Mary is employed (“How Can I Call This Home?”). After a brief interaction where Leo gives Mary her paycheck (“Leo at Work”/“What am I Waiting For?”), the musical jumps to the next morning when Mary’s body has been found and the police pointedly question Leo. Shocked Atlantans rally together to mourn Mary and see her buried while Attorney General Hugh Dorsey (Andrew Samonsky) works to build a case against Leo by putting punitive pressure on the factory’s Black employees: the night watchman, Newt Lee (Robert Knight), and janitor, Jim Conley (Ramone Nelson), whose precarious positions in Southern society make them particularly vulnerable (“I am Trying to Remember”).
The trial of Leo Frank is a show in-and-of itself. The scenic design by Dane Laffrey expertly signals the performative nature of Southern “justice” by placing the action on a large, raised platform—a stage upon a stage. Impassioned and pained testimony from Mary’s friends (“The Factory Girls”)—including Frankie, Iola Stover (Sophia Macicone), Essie (Emily Rose DeMartino), and Monteen (Bailee Endebrock)—as well as her mother (Jenny Hickman), tugs at our empathy in the midst of their loss. But such sentimental feelings are tinged with misgivings as Mary’s friends and co-workers each recite what are rehearsed recollections, and Mrs. Phagan ends her mournful testimony (“My Child Will Forgive Me”) with the very pointed line, “And so I forgive you, Jew.” Despite its forgone conclusion, the trial concludes with Leo’s heartfelt but emotionally reserved statement, “It’s Hard to Speak My Heart,” beautifully and brilliantly delivered by Chernin. The first act ends with the unsurprising judgment that Leo Frank is guilty of Mary Phagan’s murder and the rendering of his sentence as death by hanging.
True to the reimagining for this revival of Parade, Leo remains on stage during the intermission to emphasize the isolation of his imprisonment. Upon the curtain rise for the second act, we are transported to the Georgia governor’s mansion where Governor and Mrs. Slaton (Chris Shyer and Alison Ewing, respectively) are wrestling with the broader national outcry over Leo’s conviction—a situation that receives pointed commentary about the public sentiments raining in from white society (“A Rumblin’ and a Rollin’”) by the Governor’s valet, Riley, and housekeeper, Angela (Prentiss E. Mouton and Oluchi Nwaokorie, respectively). Leo and Lucille struggle to keep their marriage together in the midst of the appeals battle (“Do It Alone”), but Lucille takes the bold step to approach Governor Slaton during a political fundraiser and appeal to his moral compass (“Pretty Music”). Despite the long shot, Governor Slaton agrees to investigate the circumstances surrounding the trial and Leo’s guilt.
However, Tom Watson (Griffin Binnicker), an Atlanta preacher and political organizer, calls for Leo’s sentence to be carried out as an act of justice for Mary (“Where Will You Stand When the Flood Comes”). He throws his support behind Attorney General Dorsey’s bid for Governor and seeks to thwart Gov. Slaton’s attempt to commute the sentence of—if not outright exonerate—Leo Frank. Having found little evidence to support Leo’s conviction, Slaton commutes his sentence and has him secretly moved to a different prison where Lucille is able to visit. Leo and Lucille’s marriage finds its greatest intimacy and strength through her tireless push to see justice for Leo and his acceptance of her affections that are made manifest by her intervening efforts (“All the Wasted Time”). But ultimately, a group of Georgians—inflamed by Tom Watson’s rhetoric and their belief in Leo’s guilt—take matters into their own hands. They kidnap Leo from prison and take him into the woods to lynch him. His final words before his hanging come in the form of the Sh’ma Yisrael, a Hebrew prayer of mourning.
There are numerous parallels in our current world that make the targeted indictment, performative jurisprudence, and unlawful killing of Leo Frank a poignant message for Chicago audiences in 2025. Antisemitism certainly undergirds much of the play’s message—that Jewish communities have long suffered a blurry, if not dangerous, marginalization in American society, especially in the South. But Parade is about more than the prejudicial overreach of politicians seeking a scapegoat in the person of a Jewish man. The musical presents American justice as a system in need of constant counterbalance, where marginalized peoples serve to feed the perception of fairness—all people being equal, the conviction of a Jewish man acts to prove how American jurisprudence does not consider a person’s faith in carrying out justice. But when the ones waving a Confederate flag are also the ones in charge of upholding justice in America, how fair can such a system really be?
Parade is a must-see production and highly recommended by this publication. The performances are all stellar while the message of the musical is not only poignant but, unfortunately, still relevant in our county. Chernin and Suskauer infuse an electric rollercoaster of relational sparks into the story that is impossible to ignore. Ramone Nelson provides more than one show-stopping moment of vocal and acting prowess. Jack Roden expertly presents Frankie Epps as perhaps the most tragic of characters—a young man caught up in the grief of his friend’s death and willing to see justice carried out, even if it is against the wrong person. Parade will stick with audiences well after a night at the theatre.
Parade runs through August 17th at CIBC Theatre. For more information about the show or to purchase tickets, visit https://www.broadwayinchicago.com/shows/parade.
Editor’s note: this review was delayed due to a snafu at my end; I hope that many of our readers were able to see the play anyway. –kt