There shouldn't be much to like about "Parade," the Robert Uhry/Jason Robert Brown musical now making its Boston professional premiere at SpeakEasy Stage. The work is one full of stereotypes - religious, cultural, professional - that reflect the worst aspects of human interaction, and it sets that ugliness to song. There is murder onstage and off. And to top it all off, an audience that sits down for the two and a half hours of "Parade" can not allow itself to forget that all of this actually took place less than a century ago.
And yet SpeakEasy gives its Boston audience a reason to make the trip to the Boston Center for the Arts. The production and the work finds moments of beauty in the horror to present a moving, smartly-presented work that brings present-day resonance to the 1915 murder trial of Atlanta-based, Brooklyn-born Jewish businessman Leo Frank. While societal behavior does not shine in "Parade" - nor, at times, Uhry and Brown - this Boston production certainly does.
"Parade" suggests that the 1913 murder of 13-year-old Mary Phagan tore apart an Atlanta wrapped in the security blanket of its Southern self-identity. Its residents had yet to surrender the war lost nearly 50 years before and still celebrated with parades Confederate Memorial Day. The good ol' boy mentality suggested that if you weren't one of the group, you just weren't right. If you were Frank, a Yankee and college-educated, you were just plain wrong. When Phagan was found raped and murdered in the basement of the pencil factory she worked and Frank supervised, eyes quickly turned to the nervous man who had given the girl her final pay. Frank was arrested, charged and tried for her murder, all the while shouting to whomever would listen that he had never committed a crime.
The stage interpretation of the case significantly simplifies the complex case, but adheres to the popular theory that Frank was framed by the system. A prosector hell-bent on a conviction (David Krinitt), journalists capitalizing on and sensationalizing the developing story (led by Timothy John Smith's Britt Graig), and witnesses desperate for revenge and moments of fame come together to create an image of a leering, monstrous Frank (the chameleon-like Brendan McNab, who seamlessly switched from victim to predator for "Come Up to My Office"). The presentation is so complete - "Parade" suggests flawed - that the jury's verdict is hardly a surprise.
SpeakEasy takes these characters - given the extremity of the situation, "charicatures" almost seems more appropriate - and brings them to life with a fitting overconfidence. As Britt Craig, Smith exemplifies this sense of relish, switching from a drunken newshound howling for a scoop to the intrepid reporter cashing in on a tragedy. It's alternately comical and disgusting, the faces Smith brings to the role. Anyone who has had experience in the newspaper business must admit, however, that there is the tiniest note of truth to the exaggerated portrayal.
Director Paul Daigneault's 29-member cast, backed by nine deft musicians, rises to the lofty task of performing Brown's Tony-winning musical score while utilizing the vast stage created by scenic designer Eric Levenson. The production rarely lets a few moments pass without treating its audience to a striking visual or harmonious chord - a crucial approach to a piece that won a total of three Tony Awards in 1999 but would have benefitted more had Uhry and Brown trimmed some of the fat.
Brown ("Songs for a New World," "The Last Five Years," "Thirteen") in particular comes off as fond of his own brilliance. Clearly in love with big Broadway chorus swells, the composer peppers "Parade" with many such moments. By the second act, that novelty has worn thin, but SpeakEasy does make each one sound absolutely gorgeous.
That said, several cast members also make it clear that delivering these goods requires a whole lot of effort. Austin Lesch (Young Confederate Soldier/Frankie Epps) strongly performs many of the musical's high-emotion numbers ("The Old Red Hills of Home" and "It Don't Make Sense" among them), but with the admirable voice comes almost contorted facial expressions.
It appears that dialect coach Amelia Broome carried her Southern tutelage over into the songbook, particularly in the case of Bridget Bierne, who portrays Frank's devoted, disbelieving wife Lucille. Bierne's singing voice is heavy with Atlanta inflection, but as international musicians prove, accents don't tend to appear in musical performance.
There's a moment of discomfort when the final Southern-pride notes fade within the BCA - a sense of resentment and anger toward a people that could demonstrate such hatred and cruelty toward a man depicted as a martyr. It's not the typical sensation that comes with a night of musical theatre, to be sure, and sets "Parade" apart from the rest.
It's not common for a theatre company to incite a sense of seething - even rarer that such a reaction should be considered a compliment, a testament to SpeakEasy's effort, ability and committment to telling its tale.
Photo courtesy of SpeakEasy Stage. For more information, visit the SESC website.
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