Elisabeth Vincentelli — Theater Critic

The new Broadway musical “Once” doesn’t have a swinging chandelier, tap-dancing showgirls or brand-name stars. There’s only one set — and it doesn’t levitate. The show wins its standing ovations the old-fashioned way: with a love story, great songs, compelling characters and inventive stagecraft. At this point in Broadway history, this feels downright revolutionary.

Hoffman faces a big problem in that he’s 44 to Willy’s 60. It’s hard to buy him not only as a man nearing retirement age, but as the father of two grown sons. [...] Despite its central miscasting, the production is quite watchable. A big reason is the power of the play itself.

It’s on the rambling, ramshackle side — think of it as “S#*! William Shatner Says” — but the star’s admirers will gobble up this ham-and-cheese sandwich of a show. As for those on the fence, they may find themselves won over by the man’s unique mix of candor, self-deprecation and grandiose ego.

An upside of not being absorbed by an emotionally overwhelming performance is that you can focus more on the play itself — and it turns out to be better than remembered. The way Edson gradually fills in the blanks of Vivian’s personality rings true, as is the scholar’s discovery of her own humanity. The parallel between Vivian and a dedicated but tone-deaf clinical fellow (Greg Keller) is also spot-on.

While “The Road to Mecca” meanders — and its intimacy is lost in the vast American Airlines Theatre — the show’s low-key approach ultimately works in its favor. Even better, we get to watch luminous stage icon Rosemary Harris duet with Tinseltown glamour-puss Carla Gugino (“Sin City”)...While far from perfect — Fugard occasionally lapses into sappy melodrama; set designer Michael Yeargan’s South African shack looks more like a Santa Fe B&B — the show is a slow-burning pleasure.

At the same time, there’s little to get excited about: “The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess,” as it’s now titled, is perfectly adequate — but this American Repertory Theater production won’t take your breath away.

A lot of people whine that Broadway doesn’t know how to make entertaining musicals anymore. Happily, it turns out that Broadway still knows how to make ’em. With its catchy pop score, charming cast, zippy staging and wickedly funny book, “Lysistrata Jones” is one of the season’s tastiest pieces of candy. Sadly, it’s also one of the most underbuzzed.

'On a Clear Day You Can See Forever” is known for its great songs — and nutty book. Revived on Broadway for the first time since its 1965 opening, the Burton Lane/Alan Jay Lerner musical has undergone a drastic overhaul. Guess what? This “revisal” still has great songs and a nutty book — along with a downcast lead who looks as if he’d rather be anywhere but the St. James Theatre, where the show opened last night.

The best thing about “Stick Fly” is its shameless reliance on soap-opera theatrics. Playwright Lydia R. Diamond multiplies heated arguments about race, class and gender, but the comedy that opened last night is really an old-fashioned, corny melodrama.

The first act, where our anti-heroes meet and begin their illegal activities, is the best. Director Jeff Calhoun moves the action swiftly, combining a wood-slate set, projections and moody lighting to create period atmospherics. Things unravel in the overlong second act, which wastes too much time on uninteresting secondary plot lines and characters. Melissa van der Schyff is terrific as Clyde’s sister-in-law, but Blanche’s motivations make no sense. Where is the excitement of gunnin’ and runnin’, you wonder?

The pair certainly isn’t going for razzmatazz. David Korins’ bare set consists of several ghost lights, creating an effect that’s subtle and evocative rather than flashy. Backed only by pianist/music director Paul Ford and bassist John Beal, LuPone and Patinkin skip the shows they’re famous for: “Anything Goes,” “Sunset Boulevard,” “Les Misérables” for her; “Sunday in the Park With George” for him.

As for our star of contemporary letters, his prickly exterior inevitably hides deep-seated anxieties while his tough approach yields positive results — he can line-edit and give life lessons! Yet you can overlook the formulaic plotting because the witty Rebeck hits plenty of bull’s-eyes, most notably when poking fun at literary Manhattan’s cutthroat world. And with actors of this caliber delivering the goods, it’s easy to just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.

Gross seems to lose his footing, and his Elyot fails to convey any passion for Amanda. This is a big problem since, plot-wise, there's only a series of quicksilver switches from desire to annoyance and back again. Cattrall shoulders her share of the heavy lifting with grace and sexiness, but you wish she had a better sparring partner.

As a singer, he's good but not fantastic. When he dances, he won't make you forget Astaire or Kelly. And when he acts, it's usually his chest that makes the biggest impression. But something magical happens when he does all three: Suddenly a charming, spirited, skillful, loving showman is sweeping us off our feet. And he knows exactly how to calibrate his revue's two main food groups: beefcake and cheese.

Arianda created her role in the play's off-Broadway premiere last year, and she's only refined it since. Her big entrance, disheveled and cursing for arriving late for her audition, is fantastically funny -- no surprise to those who saw Arianda's Tony-nominated performance in last spring's 'Born Yesterday.' Vanda is joyously dim and breathlessly vulgar, even as she claims, 'Usually I'm really demure and s - - t.'

Goldstein and choreographer Christopher Gattelli milk the in-the-round staging for all it's worth. The band members are scattered among the audience, the actors often run up and down the aisles and volunteers are invited onstage for games of charades and Pictionary. Clean-cut and colorful, this production skews young. It's great for teens, but adults may find its hyperactivity a bit numbing.

This is rich territory -- the fraught relationship between Polly and Silda alone is worth a spinoff -- but Baitz doesn't clobber us with messages or psychobabble. He just makes spending time with these messed-up, complicated people a genuine pleasure.

Under Leigh Silverman's direction, the cast craftily exploits every comic opportunity, and smoothly inhabits David Korins' clever, ever-moving set -- the business hotel is brilliantly bland. The weakest link here is the lead. Wilmes sticks to a single note of befuddled candor, and delivers all his lines as if afflicted with mild stomach pain. Not for one second do we believe a doofus like Daniel used to be a senior manager at Enron.

'Comedies' implies humor, wit and gags, and they’re in short supply in the show, flatly directed by John Turturro. Subpar at best, these efforts -- I use the term loosely, because it looks as if nobody tried very hard -- come nowhere near the authors' best. This is an egregious case of selling your audience short.

Considering one of the characters is a civil-rights hero, the 90-minute two-hander has some surprisingly corny moments. But the finale offers a fantastic pay-off that ranks among the most exhilarating 10 minutes of the year. The path to the peak may be uneven, but the view from there is worth it.

Zach Grenier and especially Michael Siberry, terrific as Antonescu's shifty confidant, give excellent support, but there are too many stretches when Langella is left to fend for himself. Too bad: 'Man and Boy' isn't a great play, but with equal sparring partners, it could have been a very good show.

The revival that opened last night is in the shaky mitts of journeyman director Eric Schaeffer and a tentative cast led by Bernadette Peters, Jan Maxwell and soap-opera star Ron Raines. Rather than a seamless whole, the show feels like barely connected musical numbers of varying quality.

Daly achieves a decent approximation of Callas' look thanks to spot-on makeup and a wig. But while she's a terrific actress, her basic earthiness is at odds with the role of the refined woman nicknamed 'La Divina.' Daly nails the catty asides about Callas' peers and can switch from imperious to coyly flirtatious in the blink of an eye. But there are also times when you wonder if Callas is coaching aspiring opera singers or a softball team. And when she drops the soprano's signature 'eh' at the end of sentences, Daly's lands in the Atlantic somewhere between Italy and Canada.

In the last year, 'Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark' has gone from artistic oddity to conventional family entertainment. Between that and the strength of its brand name, it's ready to join Madame Tussauds and Shake Shack on a tourist's Times Square itinerary.

Above all, star Donna Murphy is a Tony winner who's lit up the likes of 'Passion' and 'Wonderful Town.' Here, she works tirelessly to perform CPR on a DOA show...it's not just the music that's subpar: The book is full of holes, and pulls at the heartstrings without earning its pathos, ensnaring good supporting performers like Alexander Gemignani (Paul's son), Nicole Parker, Chip Zien and Christopher Innvar into a gooey mess.