The 'Parade' revival is all too timely

 

     On the first night of previews for the Broadway revival of Jason Robert Brown’s musical Parade, members of one of the country’s largest antisemitic groups protested this show about one of the country’s most hideous examples of antisemitism, the trial and subsequent lynching of Leo Frank.  2023 and 1913.  New York and Atlanta.  Will this hatred ever stop?

     Frank was a Brooklyn-born Jew who moved to the South after marrying an Atlanta woman whose uncle, the owner of the National Pencil Company, gave him a job as superintendent.  On the day the city was holding its Memorial Day parade – Leo in the musical (Ben Platt) finds it astonishing that they celebrate the day they lost the war – the body of 13-year-old factory worker Mary Phagan was found raped and murdered in the basement.  With no evidence of Leo’s guilt but plenty pointing toward the Black handyman, the unscrupulously ambitious district attorney fabricated a case against Frank that assured a guilty verdict.  He had political ambitions and knew how to play to voters who want “to sing Dixie once again,” as the memorable opening song, “The Old Red Hills of Home,” says.  They would rather blame a northern Jew than a Black southerner. 

     The modern-day protestors outside the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre told ticket holders they were seeing a show about a pedophile.  Even now they won’t acknowledge the injustice done to Frank. 

     Although it seems an unlikely plot for a Broadway musical, this 1998 show has what good drama needs, the power to shock and move its audience.  I saw the original and was blown away.  I had known the story since I was in my 20s.  Brown’s songs (music and lyrics, for which he won a Tony in 1999) and Alfred Uhry’s Tony Award-winning book bring it to life in a way I couldn’t have imagined.

     Micaela Diamond, who made her Broadway debut as Babe, the youngest Cher in The Cher Show, movingly portrays Lucille, Leo’s wife, in this revival directed by Michael Arden.  They have strong voices and play well together but they didn’t engage me the way the original players, Brent Carver and Carolee Carmello, did, but maybe that’s because nothing can replace seeing this powerful show for the first time.

     Dane Laffrey’s set was a bit off-putting, a giant dais on which most of the scenes take place.  It made the action seem distant to me.  I liked Susan Hilferty’s period costumes and Heather Gilbert’s brooding lighting. 

     Erin Rose Doyle is a sweet Mary and Paul Alexander Nolan embodies the ruthless district attorney, Hugh Dorsey, who uses his guilty verdict to propel him into the governorship.  The election is two years after Leo’s conviction.  Leo has remained in jail, filing appeal after appeal, which were all unsuccessful.  During that time pressure has been put on Governor Slaton (Sean Allan Krill) by elected officials around the country, as well as influential individuals like Henry Ford, to reconsider the case.  Lucille is the strongest fighter for this cause, working with Slaton to reveal Dorsey’s manipulation of the case, which included coaching Mary’s young co-workers to say Frank had sexually harassed them.  

     Slaton assures his opponent’s victory when he becomes the one honorable player in the Frank tragedy.  With Leo’s execution five weeks away, Slaton commutes his sentence to life in prison, delivering what to me are the play’s most memorable lines: “Two thousand years ago another governor washed his hands and turned a Jew over to a mob.  Ever since then that governor’s name has been a curse.  If today another Jew went to his grave because I failed to do my duty, I would all my life find his blood on my hands.”

     This gives Leo and Lucille hope and they share the beautiful duet “This Is Not Over Yet.”  I don’t think, since this is such a historic case, that it’s a spoiler alert to say their joy is short-lived.  A mob invaded the prison, took Leo to a remote location and hung him.

     Cast members all appear to be giving 100 percent to tell this story, which, sadly, is far too timely.  As for poor Leo Frank, a projection on the dais says his case was reopened by the Fulton County district attorney’s office in 2019.  It is still ongoing.  And so is the tragedy.

Maureen McGovern: Creating hope in life with dementia

 

Maureen McGovern was a 23-year-old folk singer in 1972 when she was chosen to record “The Morning After” for The Poseidon Adventure.  The song and movie became megahits and launched her four-decade career as a concert performer, recording artist and Broadway musical theatre actress. All of that changed several years ago when she was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy and symptoms of Alzheimer’s and/or dementia. It hasn’t stopped her from singing, though, and she continues her efforts to bring joy to others.  She spoke by Zoom with a writer for Alzheimer’s TODAY about her life back home in Ohio and the projects she has planned.

 

How did your diagnosis come about?  Were you experiencing symptoms and decided to check them out?

For five or six or more years before it was little things. “I know this song. Why did I forget the words?” I made a joke out of it in shows. It kept building.

Have you/how have you adjusted to the diagnosis?

I moved to an independent senior residence. I had to get rid of so much. I didn’t want to let go. It was hard and frustrating to leave the place where I had been.

Now I am grateful for where I am. I live on the fifth floor with a great view. There’s a 90-year-old man here who plays the piano. A couple of times a year he’ll play, and I’ll sing. It’s been hard to adjust but I’m more comfortable now. At least knowing where I am as far as the sickness. I know many people are going through this, too. I want to write a book.

I read that you can no longer travel or perform in concerts. Can you sing and do you?

I sing a lot in my apartment to keep the pipes in order. The neighbors are very happy. I have large cards with all the words on them.

I’ve actually sung in many, many hospices. That’s always been a part of my heart. There was a grandmother in her last moments. I thought, “Oh, my God, what can I do to help her?” You could feel the sadness in everybody’s heart. The kids said she liked country music, so I did a little ditty for her. I got to a certain point and we heard a soft “whoo, whoo, whoo” sound. The beauty of that. The children and family were crying tears of joy. A simple thing like that is wonderful. I understand people even more now.   

I sang in a women’s prison. A woman sent me a letter to say I changed her life. For that moment – they are stuck in coops over there – they light up like candles.

What is your biggest challenge?

Not knowing exactly what is in the future. I try to see every day as a gift and keep moving on and trying to help other people.

Are you still writing children’s music?

I’m writing some. I had done that years ago and there’s stuff I haven’t dealt with in a while. I want to do that.

What else are you working on now?

Through the years I performed for charities. That kept me going. I miss doing that. I’d like to do more. I worked for the Muscular Dystrophy Association for three decades and HIV-AIDS and the American Music Therapy Association.

I’m talking to my music conductor, Jeff Harris. I want to record inspirational songs. I can’t wait to make a recording in the studio. I’ve been in the house so long. Maybe it will do some good.

You said you will be working to bring more attention to music therapy. How are you doing this?

When children are in a funk you just start music and they just lift up their souls. That’s what I’d like to bring them.

In 1972, on Christmas Eve – I’d done a concert the day before – I was asked to stay and go to a hospital. I thought, “That will be fun.” Kids were in cribs. The babies didn’t know anything about me but the parents needed that so badly. They came and hugged me. Something as innocent as that can change somebody for even a moment.

I want to become helpful any way I can. That’s what I’m looking forward to, that kind of thing. I may not be able to do this or that, but I know how to deal with this the best I can, when I can make someone else happy.

You said you slowly realized that your inner life has not changed, that Alzheimer’s/dementia is not going to stop you from living your life.  What does this mean for you now? What do you mean by “inner life”?

What we keep inside, above the chest. Your soul. I keep things with me. I try to remember things that were very important to me and I’m always trying to fix somebody else in their dilemma. I know all that’s still inside me.

My interview with Maureen McGovern appears in the March cover story for Alzheimer’s TODAY magazine.

 

Jessica Chastain is spectacular in 'A Doll's House'

      If you want to test the power of a well-written play, strip away practically everything except the words.  That's what director Jamie Lloyd has done with A Doll's House at the Hudson Theatre.  The result: the play was as compelling for me as when I first read it in college.  That's because Lloyd has focused on the most important theatrical element, the players.  Jessica Chastain as Nora heads the exceptional cast for this Broadway revival of Ibsen's 1879 classic story of a woman's journey to self-realization.  

     From the moment you enter the theatre, the austerity is apparent.  Scenic designer Sutra Gilmour’s stage is bare except for a few light wood straight chairs.  Moody, pulsing music by Ryuichi Sakamoto and Alva Noto creates an air of anticipation.  About 15 minutes before the start of the show Chastain walks out to sit as a turntable slowly revolves her around the stage.  Her expression is pondering, looking off into the distance.  Her long copper-colored hair is pulled back and her clothes are contemporary, a long black dress with three-quarter length sleeves (costume design by Gilmour and Enver Chakartash).  She will rarely leave that chair for the entire nearly two-hour intermission-less show, except most dramatically when her fevered dance for her husband, which she has been doing seated, pitches her to the floor. 

     The next indication that this production will be different is the opening conversation between the two main characters, Nora, the sheltered Norwegian wife, and her doting and controlling husband, Torvald (Arian Moayed).  Unlike in traditional interpretations in which Torvald is condescending and Nora childish, these two converse more like equal partners, parents of three small children who are sharing the joy of Torvald’s promotion at the bank and their relief from financial strain.  Chastain’s Nora is happy and confident, and more mature than how she is usually portrayed.  They could be a couple from today rather than the late 19th century.  Playwright Amy Herzog wrote this modernized adaptation.  As the evening progresses, though, the two will revert to the characters with whom we are more familiar, 

     Convention is turned on its head even more in further interactions, most notably when Nora is threatened with exposure by Krogstad (Okieriete Onaodowan, in photo), an underhanded bank employee Torvald is on the verge of firing.  He makes it clear he will expose the crime Nora committed to get money to pay for medical treatment for Torvald if she does not persuade Torvald to keep him on. 

     Rather than confront each other face to face, Lloyd has them seated with their backs to each other.  Emotional expression is kept low-key with little variation, as it is throughout the show.  The actors’ words are crystal clear, spoken out to open space rather than each other.  With no sets, costumes, props or physical encounters, the dialogue rules.  It was like a radio play in which we are forced to listen carefully because that’s all we have.  I was involved the entire time.

     The unconventionality is in place right up to the final scene.  With no door to close firmly behind her, Nora exits through a panel that opens in the back wall, heading into the world beyond, leaving her family behind.

     When classics are drastically reinterpreted like this I often feel that someone encountering them for the first time won’t be getting a true sense of the play but I didn’t feel that way this time.  We don’t need the simple Norwegian living room and Victorian costumes.  We’ve got the story, powerfully intact.