Christian Holub

Oh, Mary! is laugh-out-loud funny from the first moments; though much of the humor comes from Escola’s unbelievable delivery and the slapstick combination of actors on stage. But what makes Oh, Mary! such a fulfilling theatrical experience is that it also has a real message about the dangers of repression, both societal and personal. Letting people express themselves and live their truth may not solve every political problem, but it can certainly make life way more fun. Escola’s doing that, and the rest of us should too. Grade: A-

In addition to her years of teaching playwriting at Brown and Yale, Vogel is best-known for her Pulitzer-winning 1997 play How I Learned to Drive, which finally made it to Broadway in 2022 and remains unquestionably one of the very best works of recent American theater. That’s a hard standard to match, especially since the various twists and turns are almost impossible to predict when watching How I Learned to Drive for the first time. By contrast, Mother Play probably isn’t the first story you’ve ever seen about American parents failing to understand their children during the ‘60s and '70s. Some creative choices don’t pay off, but Vogel’s latest hits the emotional beats it needs to, and is certainly a powerful reminder to call your mom now and then.

Along with the revival of The Sign in Sidney Brustein's Window earlier this year, this second-ever Broadway production of Purlie Victorious makes you wonder how many other vital works by Black playwrights are sitting somewhere, underused and underseen, waiting to be brought up under the bright lights where they belong.

The core of Just For Us is Edelman unwinding this central story of what happened at that meeting, interspersed with frequent tangents about his life and upbringing in a religiously observant Jewish family from Boston. Though similar to a stand-up comedy routine, Just For Us' focus on this meeting gives it a theatrical aura worthy of the Hudson Theatre (especially when Edelman assembles stools on stage to mimic the semicircle formation he remembers), and there's a lot of physicality with the performer running back and forth. He's an energetic, self-deprecating raconteur whose stories are also quite thought-provoking.

Carden is absolutely hilarious as the airheaded Alicia. Considering that she first rose to prominence playing the omniscient artificial intelligence Janet on The Good Place, the role really shows off her range. Sullivan makes Caden's insistence on correcting uses of the term 'pilgrims' with 'well, they called themselves Separatists' funnier every time, Foley admirably keeps a straight face while demonstrating how his character's sensitivity can so easily run all the way back around to ignorance, and Finneran gets more and more hilariously frazzled as Logan's goals collapse around her. The next Thanksgiving is more than half a year away at this point, but the questions posed by The Thanksgiving Play are worth pondering at any time.

It's too soon to tell if Shucked has staying power as a Broadway musical, but its refreshing embrace of diversity and unapologetically corny sincerity can definitely put a smile on your face.

Thankfully, neither the musical nor the character let themselves by dominated by morbid thoughts. Kimberly is cheered by another high school friend, Seth (Justin Cooley), who is also familiar with loss and early-onset-maturity following the death of his mother. Seth is obsessed with anagrams (it's he who reconfigures Kimberly's last name into 'Akimbo') and is also happily honest, a relief to Kimberly when so many other people in her life prefer to gingerly side-step the elephant in the room. Then there's the music by Jeannine Tesori, which adds a playful buoyancy to the proceedings. Having previously composed the Tony-nominated Fun Home musical with Lisa Kron, Tesori knows how to lighten up a story about loss without ignoring the stakes. Kimberly Akimbo leaves you floating high on good vibes and ready to make the most of life.

In particular, director Neil Pepe and his top-shelf cast of three explore how underclass grifters adopt the language of Big Business, how demonstrations of masculinity and bravado can calcify into toxicity and how individuals can be misled by conspiracy theories and lies into shocking acts of violence. (Scott Pask’s set also helps to underscore the message, as we follow the action in the theater’s in-the-round staging through stalactites and stalagmites of junk-shop objects that suggest the detritus of American excess.)