Pulver, Knight Photo by Craig Schwartz

Leo Frank was an Ivy League-educated New Yorker living in Atlanta, Georgia where he managed a pencil making factory. The year was 1913, and the Deep South remained steeped in the ethos of the Confederacy—even though that blatantly oppressive society with its slave sustaining government was a relic of the 19th century—supposedly a way-of-life at last gone with the wind.

Still, racism, anti-Semitism, and state’s rights' provincialism were at the rotten core of the Southern belief system, and they could hardly be disguised by the thin veneer of Mason-Dixon gentility that was at the glossy surface of antebellum culture.

When Leo Frank was accused of molesting and murdering Mary Phagan, a 13-year-old child laborer working in the plant that Frank superintended, it caused a hue and cry across Atlanta. A Yankee Jew comes to town and soon afterward a crude murder is committed in his general proximity—quite a suspicious coincidence--was the unreasoning to emerge from some powerful sectors of this belle-of-a-city.

By what could hardly be called a jury of his peers, Frank, of course, was swiftly convicted of homicide-in-the-first-degree and sentenced to die. Inconsistencies, conflicting accounts, and a gaping valley of reasonable doubt that would give any thoughtful person pause weighed heavy on the conscience of Georgia’s Governor John M. Slaton; he began to reconsider the case. Troubled by the probability of an innocent man meeting with execution, Governor Slaton commuted the capital punishment to a life sentence.

Afterward, in hoods covering their faces and in the dark-of-night, several vigilantes—calling themselves the Knights of Mary Phagan—broke into Frank’s jail cell, dragged him from confinement, and lynched him in a pre-prepared spot a few miles from the jail site. After Frank’s horrific demise, half of Georgia’s 3,000 Jews left the state. Finally, in 1986, and at the behest of the Anti-Defamation League (an enduring human rights organization formed in response to Frank’s lynching), the Georgia State Board of Pardons and Paroles granted Leo Frank a posthumous, but official, pardon.

That’s the troubling story that inspired the 1998 musical Parade. And now, Parade is in Los Angeles—through November 15. With a book by Alfred Uhry (for which he won a Tony Award) and music and lyrics by Jason Robert Brown (who also received a Tony for his efforts), Parade is unusually dark material from which to create a musical theater production. Nonetheless, under the brooding direction and ritual-like choreography of Rob Ashford, this deadly subject comes to life.

T.R. Knight (of Grey’s Anatomy fame) incarnates Frank to a “T.” Though Knight has never performed professionally in a musical production, he is dancer-agile and in surprisingly strong voice here. Knight’s rendition of “The Factory Girls/ Come Up to My Office” is a showcase for his treasure chest of talents. Moreover, Franks’ inherently chilly personality contrasts well with Knight’s puppy-dog demeanor, making for a faceted and fascinating portrayal.

As Frank’s faithfully devoted wife, Lucille, Lara Pulver is open and vulnerable, undergirded by a performance power that enables her to convey emotional nuance and affectively connect with audience members in a theater that seats hundreds of patrons. Pulver’s interpretation of Lucille’s “Do It Alone” is one example of this performer’s ability to project the subtleties of her characterization. Indeed, there is a litany of players to be appreciated and applauded in Parade.

Handsome Michael Berresse, for instance, is compelling as Governor Slaton, doing an engaging solo with “Pretty Music.” And David St. Louis, as Jim Conley—the likely true-life murderer in this case (St. Louis effectively portrays two other roles as well)—is a force with which to be reckoned. St. Louis’s essaying of “That’s What He Said” is simultaneously frightening and alluring.

Accompanied by a multi-piece orchestra, conducted by Tom Murray, and with a dankly hued set design by Christopher Oram (who also created the period-pitched costumes), along with the angst-filled industrial-age lighten motif by Neil Austin, the mood of this two-hour-and-forty minute Parade is sincere, introspective, and disturbing.

This staging comes to us by way of London’s acclaimed Donmar Warehouse Production. And, since its premiere in 1998, Uhry has tweaked the script and Brown has adjusted the musical composition of the show. The LA production has also changed from the recent Donmar Warehouse template, namely in the casting of T.R Knight as Leo Frank.

A more lucid account of this sorry saga in American history might be gained from viewing the upcoming PBS documentary The People v. Leo Frank (premiering on November 2). But for those desiring a visceral and cathartic theatrical experience, see this Parade. (We won’t disclose the meaning behind the title. Suffice it to say that its revelation is a rather dramatic surprise in itself.) 

Parade continues at the Mark Taper Forum—135 North Grand Avenue, Los Angeles—through November 15. Show times are Tuesday – Saturday at 8 p.m. Matinees are at 2:30 p.m. on Saturdays and 1 p.m. on Sundays. There are also Sunday performances at 6:30 p.m. For reservations, dial (213) 628 – 2772. For more information or online ticketing, visit www.centertheatregroup.org