Slam Frank: 

As Impartial a Review as I Can Muster

I was once told, “Good art is violent,” and there has likely never been a show quite as violent as Slam Frank. I have had the opportunity to see the off-Broadway run a few times, and I feel compelled to share my musings on the controversial production, so sit back, relax, and enjoy my review of this colossal act of fucked-up nonsense. 

I think it’s important to acknowledge the show’s successes, not only to show that I am taking in the production as impartially as possible, but also because I worry that if I don’t, the creative team behind the show may track me down to riddle me with mockery and scorn, claiming I “just don’t get” their show. Trust me, I get it. I get it, and I still don’t like it.

So, to start on a positive note, the show’s shining gem is truly the cast. Olivia Bernábe is the definition of talent, proving that there are musical theater performers who can act. As young Anita Franco, Bernábe delivers a career-launching performance. This show truly could not work without them. Alex Lewis stars opposite Bernábe as non-binary love interest Peter Van-Dan, a role in which he is vocally perfect. Now, whether I think he should have ever been cast in that role is another question, but I guess those are the privileges that come with producing your own show…

Rocky Pattera as Otto Franco is a marvel of comedic timing and specificity, and Austen Horne (Edith Franco)’s eight-minute spoken word piece “The Yeast of Edith” is a true highlight of the show. The actress must be commended for her ability to take a horribly written character and still give her justice. As Mrs. Van-Dan, Jaz Zepatos is a beautiful obscenity, starting as a woman trapped by society, her journey to radical terf/urine enthusiast is something truly spectacular. 

Anya van Hoogstraten takes on what may be the most “problem-attic” track in musical theater history as Margot/Abuela, and while I don’t believe anyone of sound mind and strong moral fiber would accept this role, she does continue to make audiences laugh, so bully for her! Finally, perhaps the best part of the show, Walker Stovall shines as Assistant Stage Manager, a bit part that in anyone else’s hands could feel completely irrelevant, but Stovall’s adorable sense of wonderment acts as a much-needed reprieve from the horror that is the script. Overall, the cast takes characters written as the most abhorrently stereotypical caricatures of identities and makes them charming enough to watch. 

Yes, the cast is stellar, but that cannot save the dumpster fire that is the material. Based on a tweet reading: “do you think Anne Frank ever acknowledged her white privilege?”, Slam Frank does something God never intended, turning a ten-word tweet into a two-hour musical with no intermission (yeah, I know, criminal). While very funny as a tweet, expanding upon this one-line joke exposes a plethora of issues, mainly: who gives a fuck? And, why on earth would you choose to spend your time creating this musical? 

Written by Andrew Fox and Joel Sinesky, the script has broad appeal as it will offend anyone and everyone. Frankly (pun intended), if you leave the theater without having been upset by at least one moment during this show, you may want to consider hiding in the woods and not speaking to another human being ever again. 

Luckily for Fox, his lack of spine and general human decency does not seem to impact his ability to write music. The show is filled with catchy tunes, elegant themes, and almost tasteful rip-offs of Hamilton masterpieces. It’s clear that Sinesky understands Fox’s twisted vision, which may just be the only thing he understands. You’ve heard of beating a dead horse? Darling, this script takes a sledgehammer to a horse’s skeleton. Nearly every joke is taken too far or repeated enough times to make one want to rip off their own ears; it wasn’t funny the first time you made fun of neurodivergent folks, and it certainly wasn’t funny the seventh time. Ever heard of the rule of threes, Joel? 

I overheard another guest’s critique that “somehow every punchline is cis-het,” a very fair assessment. Evidently, Andrew Fox’s vision for the show was to jab at the folks who have been mocking him for his marginalized identities as a straight cisgender man who seems a little fruity. 

Fox has also taken over the role of Mr. Van-Dan/Hitler for the remainder of the show’s run. He is bad. 

On its own, the script is best suited for the bottom of bird cages or perhaps as a case study in how to get your audience to leave halfway through a show. Credit must be given to director Sam LaFrage, who has managed to make it mostly bearable and even, at times, entertaining! 

LaFrage was able to adapt the show to a space that is completely ill-fit for the needs of the production and make it seem like they actually wanted to be there. I guess that’s what happens when the theater you were supposed to go up in rejects you after finding your script too repugnant to put on their stage. 

The show is staged as brilliantly as it can be in a space half the size necessary, with creative uses of the aisles and live feed projections to keep the show visually dynamic. LaFrage’s greatest triumph, though, is the peppering of physical comedy he’s infused throughout the show. The only genuine laughs this production got out of me were from the actor’s physicality, the closing of imaginary windows, and well-executed sight gags. As long as nobody was saying anything, the show was funny! 

Unfortunately for LaFrage, he cannot escape scrutiny, as it is my belief that he must be punished for ever putting a swastika on a trans pride flag. There is absolutely nothing humorous about a Nazi wearing a trans flag as their arm band, and to quote Tati Westbrooke, “Oh my god, time and place!” 

Mr. LaFrage has also chosen to include prop guns as a joke, and as an avid hater of guns on stage, that truly sickens me. Additionally, the choice to end the show with a pile of shoes in the center of the stage immediately after trans-woman Hitler calls off the Holocaust–yes, that really happens– is completely tasteless and should make him ashamed. As if the show couldn’t get more upsetting, it ends by wasting thousands of gallons of water to include several minutes of AI videos that truly add nothing to the message of the production. I think there is a message in there… somewhere. 

When asked how he views the show’s political messaging, LaFrage claimed “it’s not pro-anyone,” in reference to the genocide occuring in Gaza, “it’s pro not-having political messaging in your art,” which is a mortifying take to have on a show that includes the lyrics “we’ll build a zionist entity, the Torah says it was meant to be… we’re just here to clear out the inferiors.” LaFrage may be alone in feeling this way, though, as some members of the team have claimed the show is distinctly pro-Israel, and others have been heard telling patrons who did not find the show funny that “they’re the reason we lost the election.” Seems like the show has political messaging to me.

 This is a good time to warn you that if you try to leave during the production, as at least seven members of the audience did when I last saw the show, the cast will call you out live on stage as you leave. Ideally, you would be able to escape public persecution by exiting out of the back of the theater; however, the large horde of producers blocking the emergency exit made that difficult for those nauseous enough to leave the theater.

Now, to truly understand the show, we must also recognize what is happening behind the scenes. As the show’s run has progressed, the role of Edith, clearly written to be the token Black girl, has been cut down, with most of her harmonies and riffs being taken from her and given to her white husband. Funny how life imitates art, no?

The team has also taken advantage of their non-union status by casting actor Walker Stovall in the on-stage role of Assistant Stage Manager, and then proceeding to have him also actually assistant stage manage behind the scenes, to avoid paying another artist for their work.  It also cannot go unrecognized that I witnessed two different members of the production team making advances at theater staff ten years their younger, gross and unprofessional, but not unsurprising given the choice to cast 35 going on 50 year old Alex Lewis as a love interest for 20-something Olivia Bernábe. 

Behind closed doors and on stage, this show feels like a giant fuck you to intersectionality. It forces it’s characters to prioritize some of their identity over the others. Done well, this could be great commentary- pointing out the hypocrisy of prioritizing one marginalized group over another. Unfortunately for Slam Frank, they completely miss the mark here. 

I always try to imagine how someone who sees the world differently than I would view a show, and I have come to the conclusion that a conservative person would watch Slam Frank and misinterpret the irony as truth. What is a transphobe going to think about Trans Woman Hitler?

The raucous laughs that filled the theater echoed with hatred and bigotry as an ignorant audience took every joke seriously. Their fans seem to take pleasure in the most grotesque moments in this show, and they leave the theater blissfully ignorant of the fact that they were just mercilessly mocked for 120 minutes straight. Perhaps there are one too many layers of meta commentary for this show to deliver any clear call to action, or perhaps this is not the time to be satirizing woke culture. 

The value that lies within Slam Frank is that it is thought-provoking and conversation-starting. I respect that this team has created something so brave. For me, there are a plethora of other ways to start these conversations, without mocking every marginalized group in the world, but I can appreciate that they are at least trying. 

Good art is violent, but not harmful. I worry that, intentionally or not, Slam Frank is causing more harm than it’s worth.