Barbara Schuler

In 'Three Tall Women,' the 1991 Edward Albee play finally making its Broadway debut at the Golden Theatre this week, the women are identified very simply: A, B and C. But, oh, such women director Joe Mantello has brought together. Glenda Jackson, making a welcome return to the New York stage after serving in Parliament for 23 years, is A, the 92-year-old (admitting only to 91) grande dame hovering on senility, lashing out at the other two at every opportunity. Laurie Metcalf, hard to miss these days with her recent Oscar nomination for 'Lady Bird' and her return to TV in 'Roseanne,' is B, the put-upon caretaker, and Tony nominee Alison Pill ('The Lieutenant of Inishmore') is C, the lawyer.

'How are you supposed to know if you're right and everyone else is wrong?' Dawn asks in the closing moments. The play provides no answers, of course, but when this lobby heroine finally throws it back at her domineering partner with a bold, in-your-face tirade that emphatically puts him in his place, the audience all but stands and carries her out in triumph.

'Angels' presents a complicated story that covers nearly eight hours in two parts, a major commitment requiring audiences to maintain deep concentration just to keep up. But it's time well spent, if only to revel in the glories of Ian MacNeil's futuristic set and the spectacular performances of each actor, all of whom play multiple characters. Lane reverts to his comedic roots, portraying one of Prior's deceased relatives. In one of her several roles, Susan Brown becomes a spectral vision of Ethel Rosenberg, whom Cohn prosecuted, and in a haunting scene says kaddish over his body. Everyone ends up as an angel at some point.

The delightful, energetic frothy drink of a show that just opened at the Marquis Theatre is exactly what you'd expect given its inspiration - a predictable romantic comedy that celebrates the music written and/or performed by the renowned singer who's turned his laid-back island sound into a serious corporate empire.

Coming onstage to more-than-typical entrance applause, the versatile Emmy (six) and Tony (two) winner, who has portrayed everyone from Winston Churchill in 'The Crown' to an alien in '3rd Rock from the Sun,' clutches a thick, well-worn book. 'It's my only prop,' he notes, gingerly setting the 1,500-page 1939 anthology of short stories put together by W. Somerset Maugham on a table stage left. It's the book his father, Arthur, who ran a Shakespeare festival in Ohio, regularly read from to entertain young John and his three siblings.

Really, though, this is a play about the curative qualities of music. While it would be satisfying enough to simply embrace Rylance's mastery and the glorious works of (mostly) Handel, there is a more significant message, one well documented by research but perhaps more valid to theater lovers in the soaring popularity of 'You Will Be Found' from 'Dear Evan Hansen.' Bullied, anxious, depressed? Music can make you feel better.

Ultimately, this is a difficult piece of theater, and the ambiguous though beautiful ending (with evocative lighting by Peter Mumford) presents so many implications it makes the head spin. Whatever the conclusion, anyone who sees the play will find it hard to stop thinking about the universal and troubling issues it raises.

Ethan Slater, in his Broadway debut, perfectly captures SpongeBob's enthusiastic approach to life from the moment he's discovered curled up inside the pineapple he calls home. Slater, who's been with this project for nearly five years through workshops and the Chicago tryouts, has the signature nasal voice down pat and he moves like a latter-day Ray Bolger, though with considerably more athleticism.

This is an ensemble piece, and the superb cast is fun to watch cavorting across the sand-covered stage, occasionally playing instruments made of found objects. Choreographer Camille A. Brown lets them cut lose with energetic, ethnic-influenced dances, and as he leads the folk tale to its tearjerker of an ending, director Michael Arden beautifully embraces the message of 'Why We Tell the Story,' the show's emotional closing number.

Thurman, in her Broadway debut, seems shaky and occasionally ill at ease as the promiscuous, manipulative Chloe, juggling lovers while she connives to secure a lifetime judicial appointment for her husband, Tom (Josh Lucas, who does a lot of whining in this thankless role). Let's just say she would be no match for the ambitiously ruthless Claire Underwood of 'House of Cards.'

With a less-talented cast, this would be a hot mess not worth the effort. But Martin has enlisted some high-power comedians - namely Amy Schumer and Keegan-Michael Key, both making their Broadway debuts - to deliver the goods. And that they do, along with Broadway vets Laura Benanti and Jeremy Shamos, all directed by Jerry Zaks in a limited run (through Jan. 21) that set records with a ginormous $7.5 million advance.

The Colombian-born monologist-actor keeps up the energy he's known for in past shows such as 'Mambo Mouth' and 'Ghetto Klown,' writing furiously on a blackboard and occasionally breaking into dance. His takes on everyone from Sigmund Freud to Andrew Jackson are righteously funny, if bordering on the obscene, and there are some pointed messages about immigration issues. But attempts to keep things current with passing references to Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey fall flat.

Performances and staging are finely crafted throughout, but the brilliance of this piece is truly in the music and lyrics of David Yazbek. In a departure from his work on shows such as 'The Full Monty' and 'Dirty Rotten Scoundrels,' he perfectly brings all these stories to life with rich ballads, smooth jazz, a touching lullaby, even some klezmer.

Doug Hughes' staging moves briskly on a minimalist set by John Lee Beatty, where we go from boardroom to bedroom meeting some of the collateral damage: Merkin's wife, Amy (Miriam Silverman), a financial whiz herself; the hapless investor Murray Lefkowitz (Ethan Phillips), who wants to back out but instead throws in another few million; and Thomas Everson Jr. (Rick Holmes), the CEO of the steel company Merkin's trying to take over. There's an underlying suggestion of religious bigotry, as Everson rails about a character named Israel or any of 'his people' having a stake in the family company.

oday's audiences will find the deception that is at the heart of 'M. Butterfly' far less shocking than when it won the Tony for best play in 1988. Maybe not shocking at all. In reworking the piece for the revival that opened on Broadway Thursday night, playwright David Henry Hwang, along with director Julie Taymor, clearly recognized the need to come at the intriguing - and true - story from a different angle.