Parade: “Where Will You Stand?” - by Jed Stahlback

It’s rare for a musical to leave an audience in stunned, reverent silence as the curtain falls, but Parade accomplishes just that with breathtaking poignancy. Jason Robert Brown’s Tony Award-winning score and Alfred Uhry’s masterful book come together to tell a harrowing, deeply human story of justice, prejudice, and resilience. Based on the true story of Leo Frank, a Jewish pencil factory manager falsely accused of murder in 1913 Georgia, Parade is both a searing indictment of systemic injustice and a profoundly moving testament to love and humanity in the face of hate.

Right as the lights dimmed, the production pulled us into the uneasy heart of the post-Civil War South, a society grappling with its fractured identity. The opening number, “The Old Red Hills of Home,” swelled with haunting nostalgia, its harmonies foreshadowing what was to come. The lush orchestrations and the ensemble’s stirring delivery painted a vivid image of a region clinging to its past, setting the stage for the tragedy that would follow.

At the heart of the story were Max Chernin and Talia Suskauer, whose incredible performances as Leo and Lucille Frank gave the production its emotional weight. Chernin captured Leo’s discomfort and quiet dignity with nuance, making his vulnerable rendition of “It’s Hard to Speak My Heart” all the more heartbreaking. Suskauer’s portrayal of Lucille’s evolution from obedient wife to fierce advocate was both powerful and deeply moving, her voice soaring in “Do It Alone” and “All the Wasted Time.” Together, their chemistry brought humanity and poignancy to a love story made all the more devastating by its inevitable end.

But Parade isn’t just about Leo and Lucille Frank. It’s the story of a community; a fractured, grieving, and fearful society that becomes the titular Parade, marching unstoppably toward a reckoning with its own prejudices. The ensemble was stunning, portraying this world with incredible believability. From Confederate veterans clinging to a lost cause to reporters feeding the flames of sensationalism, they embodied the collective fears and ignorance that turned one man’s tragedy into a societal failure.

One unforgettable moment happened during “Come Up to My Office,” where the fabricated testimonies against Leo morphed into a chaotic, nightmarish dance. The choreography, done by Lauren Yalango-Grant and Christopher Cree Grant, blurred the lines between reality and hysteria, capturing the frenzy of scapegoating and mob mentality.

Visually, the production was striking in its simplicity. Dane Laffrey’s minimal set and haunting projections of locations and historic images created a dreamlike, disorienting world, while Heather Gilbert’s lighting alternated between oppressive warmth and chilling shadows. The costumes, designed by Susan Hilferty and Mark Koss, were detailed, grounding the production firmly in its time while reflecting the societal divides at its core.

More than anything, Parade, which premiered in 1998, still resonates because it feels so crucial to today. Its look at antisemitism, systemic failures, and media sensationalism dares us to confront the ways these forces still exist now. The final image, a tableau of the ensemble standing determined, faces filled with defiance, reminded me of storytelling’s power to provoke, illuminate, and challenge. Parade is more than a musical, it’s a raw, real, and unrelenting look at a society at a crossroads. It dares us to question our role in the fight for justice and leaves us with an enduring message: the need for compassion and caution in the face of hate is as critical now as ever. This production is unforgettable.