Review: Slam Frank Is Back, and She Doesn’t Care If You Cancel Her

Slam Frank, Andrew Fox and Joel Sinensky’s new hip-hop musical that imagines Anne Frank as the queer Latinx daughter of a Black activist mother and neurodivergent gay father, poses an important philosophical question: If you offend everyone, have you actually offended no one?

Fox and Sinensky (and their iron-stomached director Sam LaFrage) couldn’t care less either way. But, for what it’s worth, there’s undeniably no discrimination in this send-up of radical inclusion culture that stares every sensitive demographic square in the eye and says, “Cancel me. I dare you.”

Like the Evel Knievel of musical theater, Slam Frank made its first death-defying leap last year in its world premiere at Asylum NYC—a run that inspired plenty of angry walkouts but also won fans (like my colleague Zachary Stewart) for its commitment to true, undiluted satire. As Fox and Sinensky’s pseudo-historical diarist might say, you can’t make huevos rancheros without breaking a few eggs. And so, riding high on a grassroots groundswell, fostered by a social media presence that crosses every line of political correctness, Anita Franco is back onstage at the Orpheum Theatre and getting egg on all of our faces.

Before we meet Anita, we get a self-serious curtain speech from the progressive regional theater artistic director that dreamed her up (John Anker Bow, doubling as Mr. Van Daan in the play-within-a-play). It starts with a blundered attempt at a land acknowledgment and moves into a buzz-word salad about our “profound division,” “shared humanity,” and the desire to bring Anne’s story “powerfully into our modern century.”

Apparently, the tired Holocaust-centric version isn’t quite diverse, inclusive, or hip enough to satisfy certain tastes (like the ones that started the viral Twitter argument about Anne Frank’s “white privilege” that sparked this entire project). What else is an auteur to do but give this Jewish heroine the chic Lin-Manuel Miranda treatment.

As teased by the logo that turns the iconic Hamilton star into a Star of David, our hero Anita (played with dreamy sparkle by an excellent Olivia Bernábe) raps her exposition with a few interjections by the ghost of her Abuela (Amelia Louise Barr giving a hilarious performance that cranks up the shock factor when her other character, Margot, has her say). As far as Hamilton knockoffs go—and there are a lot these days—Fox has actually written one of the better ones, with clever lyrics and catchy tunes (Suffs, Pippin, and Cabaret also get their fair share of sampling). The bops almost distract from the fact that they’re a perfect mockery of musical theater’s new favorite genre: kitchen sink.

A hip-hop-meets-pop-rock score to signal a musical of the people? Check. A cast that ticks every major racial box? Check. LGBTQIA+ representation? Anne’s erstwhile crush Peter takes care of that (Alex Lewis sings the heck out of Peter’s coming out song “Non-Binary”). Feminist outrage? Anne’s mother Edith (Austen Horne channeling Angela Davis) and Mrs. Van Daan (Jaz Zepatos, perfection as a converted ditz) belt some “Herstory.” Otto, then, comes in as clean-up crew, picking up every stray diagnosis, lest someone in the audience feel unrepresented (Rocky Paterra dives headfirst into his character’s cringe comedy).

Throw in some edgy live video projections à la minimalist visionary Jamie Lloyd (video designer Zack Lobel doing genuinely impressive technical work) and a collection of culturally mismatched costumes (designer Sarah Lockwood’s zany creations) and we might just have a musical that appeals to everyone. Oh wait, did I say appeals? I meant panders.

Slam Frank is proof positive that a decisive vision will not, and cannot, win everyone’s favor. As the show spirals into increasingly untamed territory, even the most amenable to boundary-pushing might start to sweat. You may even decide that it crosses the Rubicon, trading satire for outright antisemitism. No doubt, Slam Frank is a bucking bronco in a world of pony rides. But if you can hang on till the end, you might find that getting knocked around can jostle new things loose.