Sob Through the Holidays With Parade

Ground Floor Theatre’s annual Christmas counter-programming kicks off December with an impeccable downer. The show may be called Parade, but the only thing marching before you is a cavalcade of horrors. It presents the true story of Leo Frank (Jacob Rosenbaum), a Jewish man falsely accused of murdering 13 year-old Mary Phagan (Brooklynn Nickel) in 1913 Atlanta. 

So no, not exactly what you’d expect from a showstopping musical. But it is indeed showstopping. This 1998 Tony-winning score was composer Jason Robert Brown’s Broadway debut, an incredible blend of discordance through relentless curtains of sounds. Brown cleverly relied on ragtime and blues trends to fit the style of the story’s era, even while showcasing the goosebump-raising Broadway belt of the late Nineties and early Aughts. Ground Floor tackles the tunes with live musicians, and they’re admirably working their fingers to the bone. Under the musical direction of Adam Roberts and Dr. Ellie Jarret Shattles, Brown’s intricate runs utterly fill the space like a musical thwack in the face.

To accompany such bombast, Ground Floor and director Lisa Scheps have assembled powerhouse singers. From Rosenbaum’s lead as Frank all the way to Sydney Wheat, Penelope Lang, and Annie Neitzel as a trio of teen girl workers, every performer holds their own through Brown’s large, layered numbers. Many of the songs stack on top of each other – sad dirges of trial testimonies blending into pantomimes of good time rags, proud Southern ditties backing angry mob declarations. It adds to the intensity of the story, the unrelenting pulse of different opinions and perspectives flooding out any truth. 

But like pure truth, the best songs are those without too much background noise. They sparkle most when someone’s telling their story, like in the eerily affecting opening, where a young Confederate soldier (Ian Harrison) sings a ballad to the “old red hills of home” before flashing forward to his older self (Michael Rafferty), embittered by the war but still loyal to the South he knew. The sparkle is there when drunken journalist Britt Craig (Justin Garrett Smith) sings a solo bemoaning a lack of news before learning of the murder, or when escaped convict/lying witness Jim Conley (Nicholas Hunter) doubles down on accusing Frank.

There are two ways to watch this show: as a narrative musical, or as a historical musical. Approaching it as a strict linear story is a practice in frustration. The original book by Alfred Uhry works overtime to set the period-specific scene, leaving no room for a more complex story to breathe. That’s the risk with work based on real life. Reality is messy; it doesn’t hit the beats of a two-act structure, and sometimes trying to force history into that box can make the entire work feel at loose ends. The cast works their damndest to insert emotional resonance where they can. When Frank’s wife Lucille (CB Feller) chastises Criag’s blatant muckraking, both Feller’s fierceness and Smith’s quivering chin sell a comeuppance that isn’t necessarily backed up in the lyrics. Hunter brings the house down during his second-act song, but it’s almost too well done. His pain and anger at society resonates thoroughly enough that I completely missed the fact he probably was the murderer. 

It works much better as a historical snapshot. Then every awkward moment – each time it cuts off in the middle of a scene, or swaps to a different section of town – becomes part of the overall worldbuilding. The wide view works especially well when we get to glimpse inside the machinations of power. It works when we see how sensationalized news shapes the trial – a thought supported by Gary Thornsberry’s masterful set, with columns and jail cell bars created with newspaper and splattered newsprint. It works when playing off cues from the perfectly smug Southern politicians District Attorney Hugh Dorsey (Billy Gilbert) and Gov. John Slayton (Adam Donmoyer), who themselves see the trial more as it affects their status and less as a quest for justice. It particularly works when unveiling the widespread safety felt by white power advocates like Tom Watson (Gannon Styles, playing sinister so effectively that I spent a good hour thinking he killed the girl) as they use the event to forward their racist agenda. 

There’s a powerful message in this play. When looking for a straightforward tale, I found it hard to stay focused on that somber theme – songs sometimes act as distractions instead of vehicles for depicting the atrocities around the corner. In the end, it’s a sorrowful and sonically spectacular musical that attempts to capture a town, a crime, a man, and his unfortunate fate.  

This article appears in December 12 • 2025.