There is a saying that those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. As audiences shuffle in for the Ahmanson stop of the musical revival for Parade, they will be met with a painful reminder that what they’re about to witness is adapted from a real story. The backdrop is presented as a Waffle House where cars are seen exiting and entering sporadically. This isn’t some kitschy narrative device – or at least not in the conventional sense. Following a preamble voice-over by Georgia politician Raphael Warnock, the screen zooms in on a placard that has been there all along, revealing the larger intent of the show.
The protagonist, Leo Frank, was accused of murdering a young girl in the 1910s. What the show posits is that there’s evidence to the contrary. Even as a rebuttal that seeks to humanize the experience, it’s not complete agit-prop, or at least in the familiar soapbox manner. Instead, it’s a story about how cruel a world defined by mob rule can be. It’s present in the way that every ensemble song pushes gossip further into a collective reality, where even the local journalists promote biases to save face.
What makes it even more powerful is that the ensemble numbers have a strategic nature of highlighting performance. No matter the setting, the central stage features an elevated platform where a central figure rises to stand atop a judgmental public and express their opinions. The harmonies are effectively used to reflect the growing sense of agreement, making some of the more despairing passages even more emotional. Even if Parade works to challenge its audience’s own moral compass, it becomes persuasive as naivety blurs with sincerity, revealing the moral drives of a society with good intentions but a lack of firsthand experience in the situation.
Judged solely on the prompt, it’s easy to judge Leo Frank as the villain. A child’s death is often held up as a loss of innocence, and it makes it easier to hate whoever is to blame. Given that this is Georgia, matters become more complicated as everyone agrees that Leo is a fish out of water. He technically shouldn’t even be in the city for many reasons, let alone that Anti-Semitism was a prominent issue on par with racial profiling. The show’s ability to mix reality with accusatory fantasy sequences, in which Leo breaks into jaunty numbers, makes everything more surreal as it highlights the ridiculousness of the images evoked by the trial witnesses. Even then, it’s persuasive, and that’s easier to believe than a truth that goes against the larger narrative.
Another tool that the show excels at is incorporating archival documents into the show. While the stage level is full of pageantry and rich drama, the backdrop shifts between settings while introducing the enormous cast, often with names and brief descriptions. There’s also photography and articles featuring the actual figures seen in the reenactment. It is here that the show’s strength lies, as it never shifts too much into an overbearing headache. Instead, it amplifies the severity. Even knowing the outcome in which Leo is lynched doesn’t stop everything from being some of the most compelling theater currently touring in North America.
Even with an ensemble that gets their say, it’s the intimate moments with Leo that really drive the story. Max Chernin leads the production with a reserved charm that finds him quivering through his many observations. Even with his external confidence, the audience can find his frustrations poking through. By the time he’s in jail, his soul is weary and beaten down, and yet he continues to carry the optimism forward. His limited moving space on the stage allows the audience to recognize his imprisonment. It also helps that his wife Lucille fights an uphill battle that is sprinkled with hope while reveling in the challenges of overturning cases. Still, the fight for justice is essential and something Parade explores in its winding complexities.
This isn’t necessarily an easy show to watch. As the opening will suggest, the ending is at best inconclusive and, even almost 30 years after Parade’s original run, remains unchanged. And yet it’s the belief that Leo was innocent that drives the story and encourages audiences to find greater empathy with his cause. This isn’t directly a show about showing new facts, but questioning the injustice that comes from bigotry. In my particular case, I was at a performance where Alfred Uhry attended for a talkback. His passion for defending Leo’s innocence remains true over a century later and conveys the importance of taking a harder look at issues, no matter how small. Given the current landscape where politics and journalism aren’t entirely as transparent, it is arguably more of a conflict and one whose solution is unique to each case.
Even if the show’s larger goal is appealing to emotions, it never sacrifices the artistry to get there. The Leo Frank of Parade comes across as a genuinely kind citizen. This is contrasted compellingly against a Georgian history that celebrates war heroes and believes in the greater good being right. Even then, it all exemplifies how certain histories are favored while others are ignored, creating a conflicting vision of the past where honesty is not always favored. The music numbers are often sweeping, filled with emotional testimonies that capture small slices of humanity poking through and asking why anyone favors cruelty. Even then, it’s such a large cast that everything gets swept up into a more satisfying conclusion. Parade mixes these arcs with a songbook that effectively uses pathos to unveil humor and heartache within every decision.
This is a special story even within the world of Tony-winning theater. Whereas most shows welcome a step away from reality, Parade demands that art confront the truth and attempts to persuade a larger audience to care about serious matters. Even if there’s a curtain call, this isn’t a story that simply ends with the lights going down. This is a story where the final number leaves a pang in one’s stomach, encouraging them to learn more or, at very least, consider the nuances of a legal system that might not always do the right thing. It’s a powerful, essential piece of theater that may not have any convenient answers, but it has enough to linger long after leaving the theater. The music is great. The message is even better. Parade is what musical theater is all about.
Comments
Post a Comment