Elysa Gardner — Theater Critic

If you haven't seen Ghost on screen, there's a bittersweet ending. For the musical's producers, the future looks brighter: A third production is set to open in Melbourne next year. Apparently, sentimentality and special effects are draws — even if the latter can play tricks on you occasionally.

Though Rogers' voice isn't strong, her singing has a raw ache and folky authenticity. She also moves like a gazelle, reinforcing Eva's beguiling sensuality and adding further sparkle to Ashford's earthy, vibrant dance numbers. The narrator, Che, isn't presented as the flamboyant revolutionary (based on Che Guevera) he became under Harold Prince's original direction. A charming Ricky Martin plays the character more as an amused, sometimes sympathetic spectator; though critical of Eva, as Rice's lyrics demand, he also conveys a certain tenderness.

As drama, The Best Man is both soapy and self-righteous; fortunately, director Michael Wilson has assembled a cast of seasoned pros who manage a winningly dry, light touch. John Larroquette brings a mix of gravitas and ruefulness to Russell, whose only apparent shortcoming is trouble remaining faithful to his wife. ... But the biggest, warmest laughs are provided by another venerable octogenarian: James Earl Jones, who clearly has a field day as jocular former president Artie Hockstader. Though a fundamentally decent fellow, Hockstader has no problem enjoying some of the tawdrier elements of the political game as a spectator. Thanks to the sterling company here, neither will you.

Newsies' contrivances are served with a light, knowing touch, and made even more palatable by the easy infectiousness of Alan Menken and Jack Feldman's songs and the youthful exuberance of the cast, under Jeff Calhoun's sprightly direction.

Newsies' contrivances are served with a light, knowing touch, and made even more palatable by the easy infectiousness of Alan Menken and Jack Feldman's songs and the youthful exuberance of the cast, under Jeff Calhoun's sprightly direction.

Rather than try to cut through the rock-operatic bombast of Andrew Lloyd Webber's music and Tim Rice's lyrics, director Des McAnuff revels in it. Though intermittently moving and seldom dull, this account of Jesus' final days on Earth isn't recommended to anyone with a low tolerance for pomp. Or a headache, for that matter.

Garfield vividly traces Biff's evolution from a confident, charismatic teenager to a man crippled by his father's expectations and mistakes. The U.K.-bred actor's body language, spry and vigorous in youthful scenes, slackens; even his canny New York accent sharpens, as a local's might, in excitement or under duress. ... All the performances are at once authentic and timeless, much like Jo Mielziner's abstract set design and Alex North's haunting incidental music, both restored from 1949's original staging.

No doubt Vivian's struggle to soften her perspective while retaining her dignity will still resonate with many women. But the severity of her isolation and her steady (if rocky) path to enlightenment seem a little contrived. Other characters, too, can come across less as real human beings than as vehicles for Edson's message...It may not be Nixon's finest hour (and 40 minutes) on the New York stage, but it's a joy to have her back.

The show proves an especially winning vehicle for leading lady Audra McDonald. Where her dramatic soprano has seemed a little heavy or stiff in other musical-theater roles, she invests Bess' songs with both technical authority and a fluid, full-bodied sense of character that extends to her spoken lines. Tracing the drug-addled Bess' attempt to turn her life around under Porgy's loving guidance, McDonald is by turns tender and crass, droll and desperate, and always wrenchingly human. As Porgy, the less-celebrated Norm Lewis is a revelation. That the character walks with a cane here, rather than using the traditional goat cart, only emphasizes the contrast between his lame body and his bursting heart. Hobbling toward McDonald or carefully leaning in to embrace her, Lewis' eyes burn with a soulful urgency that matches his robust baritone.

The show proves an especially winning vehicle for leading lady Audra McDonald. Where her dramatic soprano has seemed a little heavy or stiff in other musical-theater roles, she invests Bess' songs with both technical authority and a fluid, full-bodied sense of character that extends to her spoken lines. Tracing the drug-addled Bess' attempt to turn her life around under Porgy's loving guidance, McDonald is by turns tender and crass, droll and desperate, and always wrenchingly human. As Porgy, the less-celebrated Norm Lewis is a revelation. That the character walks with a cane here, rather than using the traditional goat cart, only emphasizes the contrast between his lame body and his bursting heart. Hobbling toward McDonald or carefully leaning in to embrace her, Lewis' eyes burn with a soulful urgency that matches his robust baritone.

The muddled but appealing production that opened Sunday at the St. James Theatre shares the title with and features characters and songs from the show and movie. But as reconceived by director Michael Mayer, with a new libretto by Peter Parnell, this On a Clear Day (* * * out of four) challenges our ability to suspend disbelief in even more dizzying ways.

But even as played by a pair of appealing, charismatic young actors, these two never emerge as the populist anti-heroes that the writers clearly had in mind. Laura Osnes' fresh beauty and understated sauciness can mitigate this Bonnie's moony, moody antics only so much, while Jeremy Jordan's robust singing and graceful swagger just make the hollowness of Clyde's narcissism — and of the generic vocal showcases that Black and Wildhorn provide him — more obvious.

Thanks to these performances, Seminar proves an enriching study.

It helps that esteemed director Richard Eyre applies a light, sure hand, and the actors show a similar ease and dexterity. Cattrall's Amanda is adorably feminine, with a breezy, un-self-conscious energy that mitigates the character's narcissism. As the equally narcissistic Elyot, Canadian actor Paul Gross is less endearing but just as entertaining.

3 out of four. There are endearing twists, as well - an aboriginal-themed Over the Rainbow, a reworking of a rhythmic spoken-word sequence from The Music Man as a campy hip-hop number. If Jackman knows how to please a crowd, he can also take it in unexpected directions, with seductive enthusiasm.

3 out of four. There are endearing twists, as well - an aboriginal-themed Over the Rainbow, a reworking of a rhythmic spoken-word sequence from The Music Man as a campy hip-hop number. If Jackman knows how to please a crowd, he can also take it in unexpected directions, with seductive enthusiasm.

The expert cast, under Joe Mantello's thoughtful direction, mines the resulting conflicts for all their hilarity and poignance. After Brooke pours her heart out defending her book, Thomas Sadoski's witty Trip offers an equally passionate (and entertaining) summation of the selfishness in her suffering and healing. And when Channing's pitch-perfect Polly clashes with her sister - a recovering alcoholic, played by Judith Light, who suggests what Brooke might become if she fully disappeared up her own navel - neither is victorious or vanquished.

This collection of short plays, which opened Thursday at Broadway's Brooks Atkinson Theatre, proves that similar extremes can apply to theater. For these accounts of homegrown neuroses — by veteran wits Elaine May, Ethan Coen and Woody Allen— offer both disarming highs and disappointing lows.

It's ultimately Langella's show, though. His Gregor comes on as icy-smooth as Dracula. But as his fortunes threaten to crumble, the actor lets that fa?ade dissolve, subtly and masterfully. This mogul is a complicated man who never appears entirely defeated. 'Never, in the future, let the truth make you cry,' Gregor tells Basil in a particularly dark moment. It's a bit of practical advice that seems as timely as ever at this juncture.

McNally's love song to Callas may be, like his heroine, a more florid and flawed piece of work. Still, Daly and her fellow performers make this Master Class well worth attending.

Essential elements of that production remain, along with the flying feats and other high-tech visuals. But the new Spider-Man is cuter and more cautious than its predecessor, more in line with the winking musical adaptations of famous films and brands that have lined the theater district in recent years. Clearly, producers heeded the critics and fans who hoped to see the title character represented more as he'd been in comic books and movies. Specifically, that meant streamlining the story to eliminate a love triangle involving the spider-woman Arachne, who in 1.0 emerged as both protector and nemesis to Spider-Man/Peter Parker and rival to Mary Jane, Peter's girlfriend. The Arachne of 2.0 is a simpler, sweeter creature; the antagonist is now scientist Norm Osborn's deranged alter ego, the Green Goblin, who views Peter/Spidey as his wayward son.

The latest entry, Sister Act: A Divine Musical Comedy (***½out of four), may be less giddily profane, and thought-provoking, than The Book of Mormon, but it has its own distinct and surprising charms. Composer Alan Menken and lyricist Glenn Slater provide original tunes that nod cheekily, but with genuine affection, to that pop era while also propelling the story with a style and exuberance specific to well-crafted musical theater.

Little wonder that Steven Spielberg is bringing War Horse to the big screen in December — with real horses. But anyone who can should see this marvelous, life-affirming play first. You'll leave the theater emotionally spent but exhilarated.

Rock proves both a bold and canny choice for Ralph, a less sympathetic figure. More likable and less palpably ego-driven than many comedians of his generation, Rock doesn't exude the kind of crass narcissism that the sponsor eventually reveals...By not putting characters or their dilemmas in neat boxes, Guirgis gives us, in Hat, a slice of hard life that's as provocative as it is absorbing.

Rock proves both a bold and canny choice for Ralph, a less sympathetic figure. More likable and less palpably ego-driven than many comedians of his generation, Rock doesn't exude the kind of crass narcissism that the sponsor eventually reveals...By not putting characters or their dilemmas in neat boxes, Guirgis gives us, in Hat, a slice of hard life that's as provocative as it is absorbing.