David Sheward

Chris D'Arienzo's book is a theatrical Mad Libs game, with various '80s hits filling in the blanks of the miniscule plot: German developers scheme to tear down the strip's drugs-sex-and-rock district, as wannabe rock god Drew and actor-barmaid Sherry meet cute, split up, and reunite. That's about it. As directed with manic energy by Kristin Hanggi and played with an obvious wink to the audience by the hard-working cast, the show doesn't take itself seriously for one second. But the humor level is so low and the characters so broad that interest in the story is lost after the first 20 minutes. If the creative team had dispensed with the script and just let the ensemble and kick-ass onstage band tear through the hits of the era, Rock of Ages would have really rocked.

After a run last summer in Central Park, this Public Theater revival has moved indoors, and it looks like the hippies will be grooving there for a long time. In the park, the show was a combination picnic and rock concert, with audiences digging the sweet pop sounds and the energy of the attractive young cast. On Broadway, Diane Paulus' grab-bag staging takes on a more forceful narrative drive. Scott Pask replaces his sylvan set with a Peter Max–inspired crash pad, illuminated by Kevin Adams' psychedelic lighting. Michael McDonald's costumes ground us in the colorful period.

But this is a well-crafted playwriting exercise rather than a believable character study. Early on, Reza plants seemingly insignificant details like time bombs, and they explode later with devastating impact. She also knows exactly how to time a joke for maximum reaction, and she cleverly groups and regroups the combatants in different alliances so you don't always know who is on whose side. Kudos also to Christopher Hampton's adaptation from the original French, which transplants the action to tony Park Slope without any noticeable losses in transit. You can see the wiring in this precision machine, but thanks to a stellar cast and impeccable direction by Matthew Warchus, Carnage is a feast for both actors and audience.

An air of immediacy and spontaneity infuses all of Arthur Laurents' high-impact staging. He retains the original vibrancy of this street-gang Romeo and Juliet while giving it a harsh, jagged edge. Laurents, author of the book, has said he wanted to put danger back into the 1957 show, after too many productions (and the 1961 Oscar-winning film version) had made the rival Jets and Sharks seem too much like adorable musical-comedy versions of juvenile delinquents.

It's so rare that a show lives up to its hype that I was all set to be underwhelmed by Billy Elliot: The Musical, the London mega-smash based on the 2000 film about a coal miner's son who longs to join the ballet. Reports from across the pond had this tuner the greatest thing since sliced bread. Well, count me as a big old Billy fan. What could easily have become a feel-good treacle fest — particularly with the king of pop ballads, Elton John, composing the music — turns out to be one of the smartest and most satisfying Broadway musicals in years.