Brian Scott Lipton — Theater Critic

Scott Ellis’ much-anticipated revival of John Patrick Shanley’s Pulitzer Prize-winning 2004 work “Doubt: A Parable,” now at the Roundabout Theatre Company’s recently renamed Todd Haimes Theatre, checks off all the previous boxes, for better and worse. Most importantly, though, it proves the case – beyond any doubt – what a well-structured theatrical work Shanley crafted.

Someday, I suspect some arts organization will put on a festival of works by John Patrick Shanley that focuses on his penchant for unlikely couples, which will include his landmark first play “Danny and the Deep Blue Sea,” his Broadway outing “Outside Mullingar” and the Oscar-winning film “Moonstruck.” Now, another play can be added to this repertoire, “Brooklyn Laundry,” currently getting its world premiere at Manhattan Theatre Club at NY City Center Stage 1. But whoever that festival producer turns out to be, they may want to ask Shanley to expand this engaging, 75-minute work to give more background and substance to its main female character.

Yet, for all the issues and viewpoints Moses brings up, the salient takeaway of “The Ally” is that no one really has the so-called “winning argument” and that we owe it to both ourselves and others to listen to -- with open ears if not open arms -- political points of views that differ from own. Then and only then can we do what we believe is truly right.

The show’s physical production is equally first-rate. Clint Ramos’ nightclub set is dominated by an art-deco style door that is both inventive and terrifying, if you look closely; its only drawback is that there may not be quite enough dance floor for this unusually large ensemble. Dede Ayite’s costumes, as is consistently the case, are both stunning and period-appropriate (although I suspect Porter’s gender-bending outfit may have come from his own closet) and Adam Honore’s lighting design truly shines brightly. (The sound design, by Megumi Katayama, does need a bit of fine-tuning.)

As we have all learned, the past inevitably bumps up against the present. Sometimes it’s a headache, sometimes it’s an opportunity, and sometimes it’s a bit of both. Such is the case of the long-overdue reunion between Kenyatta (the riveting Russell Hornsby), a former Black revolutionary, and his estranged daughter Nina (the magnificent, heartbreaking Moses Ingram), a small-time hustler, in Dominique Morriseau’s bracing 2013 drama “Sunset Baby,” now being given a superb revival at the Signature Theatre Company under Steve H. Broadnax III’s sure-handed direction.

Even then, at the very least, you will be unbearably grateful to have heard the clarion, celestial voices of the wonderful Kelli O’Hara, in her finest stage performance to date as the naïve secretary Kirsten Arnesen, and the sublime Brian D’Arcy James as the more worldly PR man Joe Clay, who fall in love with each other and the bottle.

That the extremely earnest new tuner “White Rose: The Musical,” now at Theatre Row, works as well as it does is a testament to a very talented cast who handle their roles with sincerity and seriousness, as well as a pleasing-enough score by newcomers Brian Belding (who also wrote the book) and Natalie Brice, and the simple yet effective direction of Will Nunziata. And, at 95 minutes, this poignant yet slender tale doesn’t wear out its welcome.

With so many characters and so many themes, the work could feel overwhelming. But Cromer, as he has done so often, ensures the show flows smoothly and feels much shorter than its running time. However, neither the play, which can feel overwritten at times, nor the production is perfect. For example, Takeshi Kata’s set design is visually too spare for such a long show while Sarah Laux’s costumes feel uninspired. Still, we should be profoundly grateful that a work of such ambition, scope and importance has made it to the stage, not once but twice. The many questions the play poses, not just Marcelle’s, are like most prayers: necessary but not easily answered.

Raucous laughs. Loud gasps. Stunned silence. All turn out to be appropriate responses to “Appropriate,” Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ provocative play, now getting a belated – and yes, excellent -- Broadway production via Second Stage at the Hayes Theater.

But the usually wonderful director Rachel Chavkin (“Hadestown”) hasn’t totally found her way into this material, robbing the show of some of its humor -- and injecting TV screens a la Ivo Van Hove isn’t really the answer. (The video and projection design by David Bengali isn’t to blame and set designer Riccardo Hernandez does what he can with a play that is inherently cinematic.)

The real star of the show is the divine Leslie Rodriguez Kritzer as the Lady of the Lake in what deserves to be a Tony Award-winning turn. (I don’t care that it’s only November!) Channeling a bit of Carol Burnett with a soupcon of Celine Dion, she is both consistently hilarious and vocally spectacular, stealing every spotlight that is shone on her! Indeed, if Broadway could just can this dynamic diva, that would be worth all the Spam in the world.

Fortunately, for Adjmi and viewers alike, Daniel Aukin’s production of the work, now on view at Playwrights Horizons, could not be more immaculate – from David Zinn’s unbelievable re-creation of a California recording studio (aided by the superb sound design by Ryan Rumery) to the stunningly authentic costumes by Enver Charkatash (flares, flares, everywhere), to the deeply-felt performances by a mostly little-known, seven-person cast.

And while the show’s title has many meanings, it does derive, in part, from Etheridge’s mega-hit “Come to My Window,” which closes the show on a literal high note. And unlike cabaret, there is no encore! When the song is over, the “window” is closed. Fortunately, we’ve been able to take a long, sometimes hard, and often revealing look at the life of an extraordinary woman!

Anyone who’s ever watched “America’s Got Talent” and wondered what the grand prize winner’s show might look like can now skip the flight to Las Vegas. Well, that’s if they can get to Broadway in the next seven days and see the extraordinary spectacle being offered by Spanish illusionist Antonio Diaz in “El Mago Pop,” now at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre. Without question, the 75-minute show (at my performance) is both visually and intellectually dazzling – and, luckily, proves quite entertaining for audiences of all ages and nationalities.

Even at its considerable best, the show is little more than a summertime distraction, but without its luxurious casting and ultra-polished design, “The Cottage” would seem like little more than a summer stock import or a decades-long-overdue transfer from the English stage.

That’s both a compliment and a critique, as Alex Timbers’ multimedia treatment is so heavy on spectacle it makes “Moulin Rouge” (another Timbers production) seem simple by comparison. As a result, the 90-minute show is consistently great for the eye, but its considerable substance, conveyed through an infectious pop-meets-disco score by David Byrne, is too often overwhelmed or obliterated by the design elements.

With the proliferation of stand-up comedy specials on streaming television (yes, I mean you Netflix), it might seem outrageous to suggest you pay Broadway prices to see “Alex Edelman: Just for Us,” which has landed at the Hudson Theatre for a nine-week engagement after a year of a various Off-Broadway runs. Do it anyway!

As always, director Joe Mantello has gotten uniformly superb performances from everyone on stage; the cast gets a gold star for their commitment to this uneven material. On the downside, Mantello could pick up the pacing a little, the play often seems to be limping (just like Henry) to its conclusion as we impatiently wait for all to be revealed. And here’s the biggest rub: when everything is “explained,” you might still be unsure of what you just saw. That’s sadly not by design, but because Holloway’s plot ultimately turns out to be a little too complicated for its own good. Moreover, Holloway pays too much attention to the paranormal and not enough to the play’s psychological underpinnings; only if you have a lot of time to reflect on what you’ve seen can you really understand what the work is ultimately about.

Even if Stroman’s never-ending choreography can occasionally feel exhausting, it’s almost impossible not to be delighted by much of her work, most notably, the inventive, tap-filled number “Wine and Peaches,” led by the wonderful Clyde Alves (as Jimmy’s boyhood friend Tommy Caggiano) and featuring some very nimble “construction workers.” Like the city it’s named after, “New York, New York” is full of promise and potential – neither of which is completely fulfilled.

“People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. When you figure out which one it is, you will know what to do for each person,” starts a famous, anonymously written poem. Admittedly, these lines (and that life situation) are something almost all of us can relate to -- a fact that playwright David Auburn seems to be counting on in our reaction to his less-than-satisfying two-hander “Summer, 1976,” now debuting at Manhattan Theatre Club’s Samuel J. Friedman Theatre. Indeed, familiarity doesn’t breed much enthusiasm nor contempt, just a mild case of frustration. While brilliantly acted by Laura Linney and Jessica Hecht (both of them smartly costumed by Linda Cho), the 90-minute play ultimately feels like a stretched-out anecdote. We wait for an exciting plot twist, but two arrive that turn out to be dream sequences, while another struck me as less-than-believable.

If the entrance applause for Sean Hayes is a little quieter than one might expect when he finally appears onstage at the Belasco Theater about 15 minutes into Doug Wright’s entertaining bioplay “Good Night, Oscar,” it’s because much of the audience may not immediately recognize him, even after two decades of TV and theatre stardom. By the end, though, audiences can’t jump to their feet fast enough! To call Hayes’ work here “a tour-de-force” performance is accurate, while not really doing it justice.

It’s hard to decide whether to give Jodie Comer a Tony Award or an Olympic Gold Medal (or both) for her emotionally and physically exhausting solo turn in Suzie Miller’s award-winning drama “Prima Facie,” now making its American debut at the Golden Theatre under the excellent direction of Justin Martin. Either way, she delivers the most remarkable performance in a season of exceptional acting work.

As expected, Groban sings with the kind of beauty, purity and clarity mere mortals can only dream about. You will never hear a prettier version of the second act’s “Johanna” or a more glorious “Pretty Women.” Yes, I’ve heard more chilling version of “My Friends” (sung to, yes, his razor), but in every way, not a false note emerges from Groban’s mouth.

Kene ultimately proves to be one of the most charismatic (and, yes, physically buff) performers to grace a New York stage in years. And soon enough, the subject of his strange monologue will be revealed—one many of us can relate to—as will its overall part in this bracing play about artistic expectations and the freedom to tell the story you choose.

Despite their herculean efforts, though, “Pictures from Home” works better as a play to discuss over dinner than a fully engrossing viewer experience. Even as the story’s philosophical queries arise -- sometimes with little warning— it too often feels just like you’re eavesdropping on your neighbors’ banal conversations. Moreover, much of the play is reminiscent of watching someone else’s home movies, which we all know is less fascinating for the viewer than the taker. (And to be clear, you are sometimes doing that literally, as the Sultans’ actual home movies and photographs are projected on the back wall of Michael Yeargan’s uninspiring set.)