Elysa Gardner — Theater Critic

Ms. Behar’s latest venture, fortunately, finds the veteran comedian a little less out of her depth. Titled “My First Ex-Husband,” it consists of eight monologues she crafted after interviewing a diverse group of divorcées. The roughly 90-minute production, directed by Randal Myler, is set to feature a rotating lineup of stars; the first casts Ms. Behar alongside a fellow funny lady, Susie Essman, of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” fame; an “Orange is the New Black” alumna, Adrienne C. Moore; and a stage and screen veteran, Tovah Feldshuh.

If this Urinetown is neither as starry nor as enchanting as some of Encores!’s other efforts over the past few years, it still delivers a good time. And you’ll seldom be as thankful for the presence of an accessible restroom during intermission.

At its core, “Prime” asks what it means to be human, and how that is affected by time and our surroundings, a theme that Mr. Harrison has explored in various other works; one of his most recent, “The Amateurs,” unfolds during the Black Plague. His latest venture, “The Antiquities,” brings us back to the future, to a post-“Prime” era — and it offers an even more chilling perspective on where technology may be taking us.

Ms. Ibraheem conceived the play, which is set in Gaza and traces a stream of Israeli military operations, in 2014, when another war was raging in the territory. Yet it’s impossible to watch Ms. Ibraheem’s heroine, Mariam, describe these actions — bombings, which grow ever closer and more frequent — without thinking of the cataclysmic events that have unfolded there over the past 16 months.

“All In,” which will feature a rotating series of stage and screen stars during its limited run — Mr. Mulaney is currently joined by Fred Armisen, Renée Elise Goldsberry, and Richard Kind — consists of a series of vignettes adapted from Mr. Rich’s stories, and their general sensibility exists at the intersection of “SNL” and the New Yorker. Varying in length from short and sweet to overextended, they’re literate, irreverent, and goofy in that knowing way one associates with the kind of bright, impeccably educated young men (and sometimes women) who find success writing for late-night television shows and prestigious magazines.

“All In,” which will feature a rotating series of stage and screen stars during its limited run — Mr. Mulaney is currently joined by Fred Armisen, Renée Elise Goldsberry, and Richard Kind — consists of a series of vignettes adapted from Mr. Rich’s stories, and their general sensibility exists at the intersection of “SNL” and the New Yorker. Varying in length from short and sweet to overextended, they’re literate, irreverent, and goofy in that knowing way one associates with the kind of bright, impeccably educated young men (and sometimes women) who find success writing for late-night television shows and prestigious magazines.

The director has also culled fine performances from other actors, particularly another musical theater favorite, Danny Burstein, cast here as Herbie, the agent turned candy salesman lured back to his old job by Rose, who becomes his partner in love as well. While Mr. Burstein has a lovely, easy chemistry with Ms. McDonald, his beautifully nuanced portrait also flickers with the simmering indignation and fundamental decency that ultimately dooms their characters’ relationship.

Happily, director Anna D. Shapiro, who has an illustrious history of finding comedy in discord, has assigned the role of Suzanne to a theater veteran whose distinctive presence and exquisite comic timing are ideally suited to the part, Jessica Hecht. Ms. Hecht’s Suzanne is, like many women she has played, a little flighty on the surface, but the actress also, eventually, mines the deep pain this character carries inside her with shattering authenticity. Amber Gray brings an effortless dignity to Carina, who quickly finds her footing and emerges as a rival to Suzanne’s authority. As the rather temperamental Meiko and Eli, who’s complacent and a bit clueless but fundamentally decent, Chelsea Yakura-Kurtz and Thomas Middleditch engagingly flirt, spar, and endure their own crises. Don is played by the estimable Bill Irwin, who predictably finds the clown in this scrupulously well-intentioned but overburdened fellow. Don gets to say the last sentence in “Eureka Day,” which serves as a brilliant punchline for a play that finds refreshing humor, and some poignance, in subject matter that has proven burdensome for all of us.

Christopher Innvar, stepping into a role played by the estimable Boyd Gaines eight years ago, brings an easy authority and charisma to Gabriel, while capturing the complacency that, for example, prompts him to ask Lily about her personal life. And in his scene alone with Gretta, played by a tender, radiant Kate Baldwin—one of musical theater’s more elegant leading ladies, who happily gets to sing here as well—Innvar conveys both the unease such men can experience when their perspectives come into question and the curiosity and yearning that distinguishes some from others.

Christopher Innvar, stepping into a role played by the estimable Boyd Gaines eight years ago, brings an easy authority and charisma to Gabriel, while capturing the complacency that, for example, prompts him to ask Lily about her personal life. And in his scene alone with Gretta, played by a tender, radiant Kate Baldwin—one of musical theater’s more elegant leading ladies, who happily gets to sing here as well—Innvar conveys both the unease such men can experience when their perspectives come into question and the curiosity and yearning that distinguishes some from others.

Ms. Hall’s focus in “Quilt” is on four sisters who are reunited after their mother’s death. Clementine, who’s apparently single, is the eldest, and was the closest to their mom. Gio, a police officer, has the biggest mouth; embroiled in what’s clearly a nasty divorce, she self-medicates with marijuana, as Clementine alternately disapproves and shares her supply.

Every now and then, if you’re lucky, you’ll leave a theater with bittersweet but ultimately joyful tears streaming down your face, perhaps wishing you’d worn waterproof mascara. That was my predicament, at least, after catching a preview of “Maybe Happy Ending,” the most original and enchanting new musical to arrive on Broadway in years.

Overall, Ms. Scherzinger doesn’t suffer for the scrutiny. Her performance is one of remarkable, and at times ludicrous, intensity. This Norma is forever mugging for the camera, scrunching up her face or tossing her hair; I found her antics — surely encouraged, or at least approved, by Mr. Lloyd — a little excessive, though many in the audience ate them up during the preview I attended.

Overall, Ms. Scherzinger doesn’t suffer for the scrutiny. Her performance is one of remarkable, and at times ludicrous, intensity. This Norma is forever mugging for the camera, scrunching up her face or tossing her hair; I found her antics — surely encouraged, or at least approved, by Mr. Lloyd — a little excessive, though many in the audience ate them up during the preview I attended.

It should still be impossible to leave a production of “Our Town” not feeling shaken and a little wonder-struck, grateful for all the seemingly small treasures that life can offer. Mr. Leon’s aim, clearly, is to also make us wish for a better world, and as it’s relayed here, that goal doesn’t seem at all incongruous with Wilder’s vision.

What follows resembles a TED talk as much as a play, as Mr. Finnigan, armed with a laptop computer (his credits mention that he’s a game designer as well) and abetted by Hayley Egan’s video design, uses his father’s template to take us on a journey that stretches back 75,000 years, using a female protagonist who is “reincarnated in different bodies” as she travels through Asia, Africa, America, Europe, and, naturally, Australia.

Happily, the playwright has an ideal partner in Mr. Cromer, whose flair for mining emotional depth through intimacy has helped make him one of theater’s most sought-out directors. If Ms. Kennedy’s short, melancholy slice of life would seem to offer less grist than other works he has helmed, he deftly handles the new play’s pathos and its bleak wit, and culls nuanced, moving performances from the actors.

The four actresses cast as the young sisters — Nancy Allsop, Sophia Ally, Lara McDonnell, and Nicola Turner — are likewise excellent, though I doubt their character arcs will leave any aspiring performers with stars in their eyes. Both in spite of that and in part because of it, “The Hills of California” is essential viewing for anyone who loves theater.

Happily, Ms. Foster’s newest Broadway role not only encourages but demands an over-the-top quality. Princess Winnifred, the boisterous, brawny, moat-swimming heroine of “Once Upon A Mattress,” is nothing if not overwhelming, and the part also accommodates the sly wit that has made Ms. Foster a successor to Moore as much as her million-dollar smile.

While Ireland has proven herself capable of great nuance as an actress, her writing here can seem ham-fisted, or too neatly tailored to confront stereotypes or stoke outrage. Watching Marin Ireland’s new play, “Pre-Existing Condition,” I couldn’t help but think of those Feeding America ads that have popped up everywhere in recent years, flashing AI-generated faces representing everyday folks to remind us that, according to its statistics, one in eight people suffer from hunger. The protagonist of “Condition,” referred to simply as A, is not starving, at least not for food, but she’s having trouble finding empathy and support in the aftermath of a different ordeal.

Few things are more frustrating than watching a potentially marvelous play (or film, for that matter) either run too long or veer off course. “The Welkin,” the latest effort from acclaimed playwright Lucy Kirkwood to arrive in New York, is guilty on both counts — which is not, by any means, to say you should miss it.

At first blush, Titanic might seem less ripe for either homage or re-exploration. Neither a cherished classic like Woods nor a spunky cult favorite like Mattress, this musical account of the great disaster of 1912—with music and lyrics by Maury Yeston and a book by Peter Stone—enjoyed a respectable run on Broadway back in the late 1990s, when the kind of pseudo-operatic pomp that had made The Phantom of the Opera and Les Misérables hits in the previous decade was still being mistaken for depth by many theatergoers. Titanic is certainly not unmarked by the self-seriousness and bombast its subject matter would seem to invite. But for those who missed its stint in Times Square, and haven’t spent much time with its score since (I’m guilty on both counts, I’ll admit), this new staging—which teams a sprawling, starry cast with a 30-piece orchestra—will prove nothing short of a revelation.

Alexis Scheer’s new play, “Breaking the Story,” begins with a bang, literally, and features several more before its roughly 80 minutes have expired. The central character, Marina, is a veteran foreign correspondent who clearly suffers from PTSD. We meet her in an unnamed war zone as she tries to report between missile strikes; yet the explosions continue intermittently, as flashbacks, even after she has moved to more peaceful surroundings — a house with a garden at Wellesley, Massachusetts — to ponder early retirement. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of figurative whimpering between the blasts. Ms. Scheer earned acclaim several years ago with “Our Dear Dead Drug Lord,” another play that carries into an idyllic suburban setting ghosts of terror from abroad; in that work, a group of seemingly privileged teenage girls gathers in a treehouse to summon the ghost of a notorious Colombian cartel leader, Pablo Escobar.

For many, though, the main attraction of this new “Vanya” will be Steve Carell, the TV and film star who is making his Broadway debut as Chekhov’s forlorn protagonist. Like other works by the playwright, “Vanya” boasts often underexploited comedic elements, so it shouldn’t be too surprising that an actor whose high-profile credits include “The Office,” “The 40-Year-Old Virgin,” and the animated classic “Despicable Me” would be drawn to it.

“Mary Jane” nonetheless remains a work of remarkable courage, and far more than that: Ms. Herzog captures, with dialogue that feels bracingly, fearlessly authentic — and that is often very funny besides — how powerful love can be in the face of pain and loss and, just as significantly, the limits of that power. Under Anne Kauffman’s vigorous, compassionate direction, the screen star Rachel McAdams steps into the title role, and acquits herself nicely. Where Ms. Coon brought more of a wry quality and a sense of latent, perhaps worn ferocity to Mary Jane, Ms. McAdams plays her very credibly, and movingly, as a fundamentally gentle woman who is overwhelmed by her lot.