David Finkle — Theater Critic

Here's a woman grieving over her brother's death, a woman of surpassing refinement who's found nothing to comfort her until an emissary from a suitor for her hand arrives and melts her frozen heart. Even then, she retains her equanimity, gliding about the stage as if transported on wheels. Her speech has lute-like qualities. In the role, Rylance is depression embodied. He's as different from Richard as could be envisioned.

It's not news that the ill-formed nobleman can be funny as he stops at nothing while maneuvering himself to be crowned king -- and, when, on the throne, still isn't satisfied. But Rylance compounds the fun by turning into a Richard of York who unabashedly giggles at his own jokes while he strides about with a decided limp and never using his withered and gloved left hand. Plotting to eliminate all competitors, this Richard frequently emits room-shaking guffaws at what he's getting up to. At one point, he literally crooks (pun intended) a finger at the audience to join him in his merry malevolence.

Why go on about any of this when the wise thing to do is to advise readers they really ought to stop reading and secure those precious seats. As Langston Hughes insists, nothing good happens to a dream deferred. Therefore, where this dream is concerned, defer no longer. Or as Yip Harburg puts in some crooning mouths during the marvy evening, 'Ain't it de solid truth?

The Winslow Boy is a well-made play, yes, but it deals with a problem for which the solution is patently not well made. To allow the situation to unfold persuasively, Rattigan does some remarkable writing--taking care to give every character the chance to have at least one spotlighted center-stage moment. Those lucky enough to be handed multiple chances to shine are each of the Winslows, the suave Sir Robert, the conflicted John Watherstone and well meaning but unlovable Desmond Curry...But where to begin passing out individual laurels? Probably with Rees, who presents a stern Edwardian gentleman who isn't in the best of health when he first appears and whose resolve slowly takes its visible toll. When Rees impressed Manhattan audiences as Nicholas Nickleby a few decades ago, he was wonderful. He's been wonderful in various assignments ever since, but this may be his best outing since the initial one. Let's just say it is.

Lane's three-dimensional portrait of Chauncey Miles -- named after George Chauncey, whose 1994 Gay New York Beane consulted for background info -- is never a let-down. Possibly Broadway's one legitimate box-office name, Lane has played versions of Chauncey Miles before...As he's previously demonstrated, he has the uncanny ability to make audiences laugh while tugging at their heartstrings -- the gift indicating more than a spark of genius...Lane's stance, his expresssion at the final curtain -- the cause of the despair won't be revealed here -- may not be earned by Beane's play, but at that moment the actor beautifully compensates for anything and everything that up until then might have been missing.

Paulus and Cherkaoui have the six principals on their toes throughout, each of whom is impressively committed to his or her role. While they nail every moment, there is one performance that threatens to dislodge the Broadhurst roof: Lauren Patten giving Morissette's 'You Oughta Know' all the sizzle that a Peter Luger steak used to have.