Catey Sullivan

Taymor’s cast fires on all cylinders. White captures Ponyboy’s vulnerability and intelligence, as well as the swagger of a teenager coming into his own. Fambrini’s Johnny is a soft-spoken dreamer who can recite Robert Frost poetry and wield a blade with equal impact. Hearn’s Cherry is conflicted and entitled, her complex character evolution believable and empathetic.

“Stereophonic” captures a seminal sound of the late-1970s, but like many great artistic products, it could use an editor to more effectively streamline the dialogue.

In all, vocals, movement and visuals create the core of excellence that defines “Hell’s Kitchen,” even in the absence of a well-honed book. It’s a full-body immersion in music that spans the emotional spectrum, anger to elation, rage to revelation, anguish to ambition.

Chernin’s Leo and Suskauer’s Lucille are at the nexus of “Parade.” Chernin is wondrously versatile, moving from the menacing, vaudevillian caricature of “Come Up to My Office” to the wrenching, twined ardor of “All the Wasted Time” with mesmerizing authenticity. Suskauer’s Lucille is an unswerving bulwark of goodness in a backwoods swamp largely defined by vile racism and antisemitism. Suskauer’s “Do it Alone” is a plea for connection and howl against bigotry, its lyrics (“I could start to scream/Across the whole damned South/And never shut my mouth”) powered by rage and terror. Together, Chernin and Suskauer have remarkable chemistry.

“Beauty and the Beast” is far more escapist than revelatory. But with its pleasing score, A-list cast and visuals that make your pupils feel like pinwheels, this production feels ready for a remount on Broadway.

Clark and McAnally’s score, while pleasant and energetic, (the searing power of “Independently Owned” aside), isn’t terribly memorable. Little matter. The cast is good enough to turn pleasant into outstanding. And the fast-flying lyrics are worth paying close attention to. In its titular number, “Shucked” covers 7,000 years of corn history, with a special shoutout to Columbus for bringing “syphilis and smallpox” to the New World and painter Norman Rockwell for featuring corn on many of his various canvases.

The plot is convoluted, but convoluted plots were definitely a thing with Shakespeare, so stylistically, it tracks. The music — featuring songs made famous by Britney Spears, Pink, Kelly Clarkson, Katy Perry, the Backstreet Boys and REO Speedwagon, among others — is pure ear candy. Weber’s choreography — a wild, wonderful mix of hip-hop, breaking and ballet among other genres — is pure, kinetically stunning eye candy.

As a fifth grader when “Song Sung Blue” became a hit in 1972, I didn’t know Neil Diamond from Neil Simon, but the song became an obsession. Its juxtaposition between major and minor chords — moving from happy to sad and back — fascinated me. The fingering of the song’s basic guitar chords remains embedded in my brain more than 40 years on.

The spectacle on stage is nonstop, worthy of a world beyond the universe of muggles. Jamie Harrison’s illusions — which include, but are not limited to, wand battles, levitation, flying, telekinesis, shape-shifting and conjuring/throwing fire so intense you can feel the flames’ heat in the audience — are a stunning display of just how far theater technology has come. That falling chandelier that had everyone gobsmacked back when “The Phantom of the Opera” first landed here way back in 1990? It seems like a Home Depot can lamp by comparison.

Instead of characters and story, “Beetlejuice” offers an onslaught of bells and whistles: Kenneth Posner’s lighting design has enough strobes for an all-night rave. Peter Nigrini’s dizzying projections whirl and blink like fractured kaleidoscopes. There are myriad afterworldly creatures, including some gigantic sandworms (from puppet designer Michael Curry). David Korins’ purposefully off-kilter set is like a Lewis Carroll fever dream. William Ivey Long’s eye-popping costumes are delightfully flamboyant and equally macabre. But there’s no disguising the show’s lack of heart or real dramatic tension under Timbers’ overall manic pace for the show.

With a cast of Broadway veterans (Stephanie J. Block has been out as the Baker’s Wife since the show opened here; Ximone Rose took the role Friday night) and an onstage orchestra, deBessonet’s staging brings a clarity to the ancient fairy tales Sondheim reshaped and merged (with book writer James Lapine) into a haunting meditation on love, loss, blame, and moral quandaries not even a seemingly all-powerful witch (Montego Glover) could solve.