I have wanted to see the musical ‘Parade’ for a long time. Sitting across the road from the Southwark Playhouse before the show, I overheard a man say to a woman: “Cheer up, you’re about to see the saddest musical every written!” And so I waited eagerly in anticipation.

Set in the 1910s in Georgia, we follow the tragic story of a Jewish factory owner, Leo Frank, as he is accused of abusing and murdering Mary Phagan (Jessica Bastick-Vines), a young girl who worked for him.

A drunken reporter, played by David Haydn, sobers up to return as a master of spin. He and Hugh Dorsey (Mark Inscoe), prosecution lawyer, rally up public support, and convince members of the community to bend the truth, and more often than not, to lie about their experiences of Mr Frank.

His only hope of rescue from a public hanging is his loving wife, Lucille (Laura Pitt-Pilford), who tugs at the heart strings of Governor Slaton (also David Haydn). He agrees to stand up for Leo, a man that he believes is an innocent outcast. Are these efforts enough to save him from the fury of the masses who need to see justice done, quickly?

Suffice to say, each and every singing voice was capable of setting the heart racing. The discordant harmonies of the chorus were touching, unsettling and emotive, and though I am not a trained singer, it was rare to hear an unsupported, pushed note from this experienced and talented cast.

Before we fully meet the protagonists, a distraught and dazed Frankie Epps (Samuel J Weir) recalls how young Mary’s ‘smile was like a glass of lemonade’. The song was delivered with a beautiful subtlety. The lyrics are so highly personal, that the performer needs a deep internal understanding of the character and his position in order to deliver them with complete truthfulness, which Weir was on the verge of.

Alastair Brookshaw (as Leo Frank) gave an equally strong vocal performance. I was touched on several occasions by the honesty of his performance, in particular when he sang to his wife, finding the confidence to simply say (possibly for the first time after years of marriage), ‘I love you’. However, the honesty was not consistent. The choice to listen intently to what the text tells us about his character’s nervous mannerisms was commendable. However, in times of extreme hardship, even the most agitated of people might break from their habitual mannerisms, look people in the eye, and show some humanity.

Both Laura Pitt-Pulford as Lucille Frank, and Terry Doe, in various roles, stood out as giving full commitment to the finer details of their performances. When Lucille begged for the Governor’s help, and when Riley (Doe) hit the deck, when singing about the injustice of a juridical system that prioritises murder of white victims in the courts, there was no rest from the illusion that they had created.

I have not commented on every performance, but that is no negative reflection on the others. A strong cast, fantastic set, and sharp direction by Thom Southerland and co. left us with something to think about. I wanted to be moved more, but I blame it on that man I overheard before the show, preparing me for floods of tears.