Elysa Gardner

Bergasse's routines, even at their most irresistibly dizzy, reflect Robbins' emphasis on storytelling and expression of character. This is especially crucial in the ballet sequences, showcases for Fairchild - and the hyper-talented Tony Yazbeck, who plays Gabey - that grow darker and more emotionally rich as the production spins toward its surprisingly unsettling, riveting climax and bittersweet conclusion. Beowulf Boritt's playful, imaginative scenic and projection design and Jason Lyons' vivid lighting deserve mention as well. The New York they create is mythical and old-fashioned but, like the flawed, yearning characters who sometimes wander among us, strangely familiar and accessible. Great musical theater doesn't require total escapism, after all, any more than unconditional happy endings.

Some artists mellow with age. And then there's Terrence McNally...Part of what gives the new edition its sting and zing is McNally's keen awareness of how stage business has come to intersect with the broader celebrity culture, and how much more pervasive and, frankly, sillier the latter has become...As always, though, it's Lane we marvel at. Working with a playwright and a director -- Jack O'Brien, at his most delightfully mischievous -- who know the range of his comedic gifts and how to fully tap them, Lane whips the audience into fits of laughter, both jaded and joyful, from the moment James enters, promptly dialing his Hollywood agent to wax snarky about his buddy's show.

For Christopher Boone, the hero of Simon Stephens' extraordinary new play The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (***½ out of four stars), such experiences are part of everyday life. A 15-year-old who lives with his father in Southwest England, Christopher shows symptoms associated with Asperger's syndrome; he has a great affinity for math and anything involving the processing of data, but is uncomfortable around people and has a hard time understanding them, with their constant use of metaphors, incomplete answers and other strategies for evading difficult subject matter.

Luckily, this Manhattan Theatre Club production...has the benefit of an expert director, Daniel Sullivan, and a cast -- led by a delicious Blythe Danner -- who bring this crew to life with a brisk, unfussy wit that flatters the material. Danner's Anna is a model of rumpled dignity and vanity, at once blowsy and elegant in her fashion...Yet House is at its funniest and most poignant when Anna comes to terms -- or doesn't -- with her fading powers, and the ephemerality of life. Her daughter's absence is, of course, a stinging reminder of the latter, and Danner makes that pain clear, even while delivering a wonderfully relaxed comedic performance...Narcissism and banality are, after all, hardly unique to one character in The Country House. Still, given the strong foundation it's provided here, it's not a bad place to spend a few hours.

Glimmers of eloquence and much heart remain, though, and they're well served under Gregory Mosher's elegant, affectionate direction. Farrow, still luminous at 69, can be devastatingly coquettish and hilariously self-important as Melissa the girl...but is just as committed to capturing the aging woman's increasing desperation. For Dennehy...Love Letters would seem to present few challenges. But the actor invests the role with a robust, if laid-back energy that never lets us forget Andy's drive to do good, and be good, even when he comes across as conflicted or, occasionally, callous...Gurney's play, even in its mawkish moments, makes a compelling case for a 'dying art.'

Shapiro is more restricted here, working with a smaller, less practiced company on a play that, for all its appealing aspects, betrays both its age and the relative inexperience of its gifted creator. But she manages to mine the wry humor and pathos in Youth's portrait of privileged despair and spiritual malaise...Sadly, Gevinson, who plays Jessica, is the production's weak link. Squirming and shouting her lines in a high-pitched whine that suggests barely repressed hysteria, she overplays Jessica's feigned confidence and confusion, making Warren's enduring attraction to her less convincing. Still, under Shapiro's patient guidance, this Youth is intermittently funny and poignant -- and provides a timely reminder that when our economy and culture are fractured, even the young and well-off suffer.

So let's first praise Holler If Ya Hear Me (*** out of four stars) for what it's doing -- acknowledging that Broadway audiences are growing more diverse, and encouraging that growth -- and, just as important, what it isn't doing: milking nostalgia...Under Kenny Leon's vigorous, sensitive direction, the principal actors -- among them a coolly charismatic Christopher Jackson and a typically warm, fierce Tonya Pinkins -- are convincing and sympathetic, and Waters and choreographer Wayne Cilento mine the robust grooves and soulful nuances in Shakur's material in exhilarating production numbers. Though there are sobering twists -- and contrived ones -- the overall effect is uplifting. By celebrating its subject's creativity rather than exploiting his legend, Holler sets a fundamentally positive example for a problematic form.

But even if you saw it last time, you are strongly advised -- no, urged -- to return. The reasons to do so include both a familiar face in the cast and a few new ones.Alan Cumming, whose indelibly naughty, biting performance redefined the role of the Klub's Emcee, revisits the character with renewed senses of mischief and urgency that will leave you riveted, from the moment he introduces a deliciously bawdy Willkommen to his final, chilling adieu. The Scottish Cumming is joined by two of today's finest American stage actors, Linda Emond and Danny Burstein, who lend fresh insights...The real revelation of this Cabaret, though, is its leading lady, the film star Michelle Williams...Williams brings to the role a pained fragility that feels distinctive, and makes Sally's determination to not face either her past or the world crumbling around her especially poignant...It's a star turn that, even in this rich season, is truly unmissable -- as is this Cabaret in general.

Fierstein's compassion for his characters never flags, and director Joe Mantello juggles the vivacious and bleak elements of the play -- its warmth and wryness, both characteristic of the playwright -- adroitly. He has the benefit of a superb ensemble cast. Patrick Page and Mare Winningham have a poignant rapport as George/Valentina and his wife, Rita...Tom McGowan is an immensely endearing Bessie, one of several characters we only meet in their feminine guises, while Gabriel Ebert brings a goofy sweetness to the role of first-timer Jonathan/Miranda. Vets John Cullum and Larry Pine are predictably supple as, respectively, mother figure Terry and The Judge/Amy, who may harbor a dangerous secret. Reed Birney is hilariously starchy as George's aforementioned friend, Charlotte, who at one point declares that in 50 years homosexuality will still be shunned, while 'cross-dressing will be as everyday as cigarette smoking.'

This girl has been through a lot, and Harris, playing her, appears dressed for battle in glittery makeup, fishnet stockings and a gravity-defying blond wig. Over the next 95 minutes, though, Hedwig will slowly cast off her armor, and Harris will throw himself wholeheartedly, and with the full force of his gifts as an actor and showman, into her unsettling but ultimately exhilarating journey...Hedwig's tragicomic essence remains the same, and Harris, under Michael Mayer's razor-sharp direction, serves it with a blazingly entertaining and ultimately moving performance. The humor here is darker and rawer than the material that has endeared Harris to TV audiences, but he brings the same affable, slightly naughty charm -- only laced with the brittleness and jagged desperation you'd expect from someone who has been repeatedly betrayed by those she loves.

Violethas the intimate feel of a chamber piece, so the vast space here doesn't seem like an ideal setting. Crawley's sensitive dialogue can drag at times - as can Tesori's rootsy score, which veers from country-flavored ballads to R&B and gospel-tinged production numbers. But Silverman and her cast reward our patience with performances that transcend clichés, taking care to make the fragility of these characters, and their different quests for dignity and love, authentic...The leading lady, not surprisingly, meets the challenges posed by her role - which proves a nice showcase for the folkier, more nuanced quality Foster's singing can take on when she's not belting to the back rows. Not that you'll have any problem hearing her here, or appreciating the courage and passion she brings to her latest star turn.

In Inishmaan, first produced in London nearly 18 years ago, we meet people for whom telling stories is an especially essential function, given the predictability and drudgery of their lives in the titular small town off the coast of Ireland. When an American film crew arrives on the neighboring island ofInishmore, planning to document the locals, a few find fresh inspiration - among them 'Cripple Billy' Claven, an orphaned teenager sheltered by two spinsters, who alternately coddle and belittle him, and shunned or ridiculed by pretty much everyone else.

Lapine's Act One (* * * out of four stars), which opened Thursday at Lincoln Center's Vivian Beaumont Theatre, doesn't match the inspired zaniness that was Hart's ideal and trademark -- but its creator doesn't seem to be going for that. The new Broadway production is rather an appreciation, most notable for its deep affection and almost deferential reverence. To say the play lacks the complex poignance of the Sunday in the Park with George and Into the Woods librettist's best work wouldn't be fair; however wry Hart's humor or complicated his relationships -- with show business, his family, other people -- his Act One is a nostalgic and ultimately upbeat reflection on fulfilling a dream.

In the new Broadway production of Mice (* * * ½ out of four stars)...Lennie is played by Irish actor Chris O'Dowd...You wouldn't necessarily recognize him here; his wavy locks shorn to a buzz cut, O'Dowd stoops, suggesting a man either hiding or apologizing for his physical height and might. When Lennie is excited or curious, the fingers on his left hand curl, as if grasping for information he cannot comprehend; when he's afraid, or ashamed, he flinches, like a child being scolded. It's a vivid, sensitive performance of the piece with director Anna D. Shapiro's staging...It's a credit to Shapiro and her company that, in this revival of Mice, hope comes through as powerfully as its ultimate futility.

McDonald gets to show off her comedic skills, naughtily teasing her conductor and pianist (the excellent Shelton Becton) and wandering among the audience members who sit at tables incorporated into the set. At one point, her Holiday heads for the bottles of booze lined up in back of them and pours herself a strong one; at another, she nuzzles her pet pooch, Pepi (played by a sweetly poised rescue dog named Roxie)...Not surprisingly, though, Lady Day is at its most potent when the songs speak for her. McDonald delivers a beautifully phrased God Bless the Child, an enchanting Crazy He Calls Me, a chilling Strange Fruit.

it's Stroman who makes this baby sing and dance, not just literally but spiritually. The playful wit and exuberance that were stifled by the material in her last Main Stemouting, Big Fish, are in full force here, and are supported by performers and designers (among the latter the great William Ivey Long, whose costumes are especially scrumptious) who seem to never run out of steam.

But there is more to the goofy John, played with robust wryness by Hall, and Tomei's sweetly dizzy Pony than meets the eye. Using the intriguingly offbeat dialogue that is his hallmark - full of non sequiturs and blunt but often contradictory remarks that both evoke natural speech and lend a slightly surreal quality - Eno draws his four characters to each other in ways that, however predictable, movingly emphasize the ultimate commonality of the human condition...Joneses isn't a downer, though, and director Sam Gold and his excellent cast ensure that its humor and poignance are equally served. Predictably, there's no neat resolution; the play ends with all four of its characters in a relatively upbeat mood, yet not any surer how things will turn out. But that's life for you, isn't it?

Ah, what a difference 10 years and a worthy leading man can make. The new Raisin (* * * * out of four) that opened Thursday at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre is also helmed by Leon, but it stars a riveting Denzel Washington, leading a flawless cast with his best work to date on the Main Stem. The result is a production that, considered alongside its predecessor, is nothing short of revelatory. Where Leon's last Raisin felt stiff and curiously dated, this time he and his company have reclaimed Lorraine Hansberry's 1959 play as an American classic, one that both captures a distinct time in our history and carries an enduring relevance and resonance.

Yorkey's book and lyrics match the probing compassion of Normal without indulging in that show's preciousness. The characters here are more accessible and likable, from James Snyder's rugged but tender Josh to Anthony Rapp's wry Lucas, Elizabeth's longtime friend. LaChanze brings infectious verve to the role of Kate, a lesbian schoolteacher who evolves from a stock comic-buddy type into a compelling individual. As for the leading lady, Menzel seems both grounded and energized by the opportunity to play a grownup who learns that there really are no ever-afters. There is poignance in that discovery, but a sense of liberation as well, and If/Then captures both to moving, invigorating effect.

For those who can look past such weaknesses, though, Mothers emerges as one of the more engaging and uplifting new plays of the season. It doesn't hurt, certainly, that McNally and director Sheryl Kaller have for their leading lady the irreplaceable Tyne Daly, who makes Katharine's quirks and contradictions so vivid that you'll find yourself at once offended by her and richly entertained. McNally also affords Katharine the empathy that she herself withholds, so that we're always conscious of her underlying humanity.

The faithful will be pleased that producer Cameron Mackintosh's new staging (*** out of four stars), which opened Sunday at the Imperial Theatre, offers as much bombast as ever. There are thundering performances of Schönberg's syrupy, repetitive score (with new orchestrations), a vast, creepy set (by Matt Kinley) inspired by Hugo's paintings and a company of accomplished troupers who gamely glower and fret under Laurence Connor and James Powell's heavy-handed direction. For the rest of us, luckily, there is another compelling reason to check out this production: its leading man, Ramin Karimloo...Perhaps we'll have the good fortune to see Karimloo tackle Billy Bigelow or Sweeney Todd in the future, or perform in an original musical that can more fully accommodate his robust gifts as a singer and actor. For now, this LES MISERABLES will have to suffice.

You may recognize the song from the 1992 animated movie on which this new musical, which opened Thursday at the New Amsterdam Theatre, is based. In the film version, Friend is sung by Robin Williams, voicing the role of the genie who comes to our titular hero's aid, at his most breathlessly ebullient. It's an act that would be impossible to reproduce, so Iglehart, abetted by director/choreographer Casey Nicholaw, simply tops it. By the end of the number - which includes a game-show segment, a medley of tunes from other Disney musicals and a succession of winking, twinkling chorus lines - Iglehart's Genie is deliriously huffing and puffing; the audience, which responded at a recent preview with a standing ovation, is just as giddy. If Disney Theatrical's latest production doesn't sustain that frenzied high throughout, it delivers a rush that may surprise folks who attend either as chaperones or to relive their own youths.

If you want to witness the Cinderella story that put Sylvester Stallone on the map elevated to new levels of bombast in a live production, then Rocky, which opened Thursday, will leave you similarly energized. But this musical adaptation of the original 1976 film is actually at its most affecting when things quiet down a little - that is, when co-librettists Thomas Meehan and Stallone, composer Stephen Flaherty and lyricist Lynn Ahrens turn their attention to Rocky's less flamboyant, more awkward efforts as a man looking for love.

ohnson has similar concerns about both King and Hoover, and most of the men he deals with, and expresses them even more colorfully when not on guard. Schenkkan embraces LBJ's well-documented penchant for raw language, and other traits, without reserve - and Cranston plays them with relish. Strutting gut-first and affecting a gruff Southern drawl, the leading man delivers the emphatic, crowd-pleasing performance that the play, and Bill Rauch's vigorous direction, require, while also making Johnson affecting as a flesh-and-blood human being.

...Pasquale's performance, which is technically impressive and shows at least flickers of nuance. As the cliches pile up, you feel for him, and for O'Hara, and their director, Bartlett Sher, whose credits include some of the most compelling stagings of American classics in recent years (including the 2008 revival of South Pacific in which O'Hara memorably starred). They are burdened, after all, not only with the sentimentality of Bridges' premise, but with supporting contrivances such as Francesca's dull, inexplicably suspicious husband, called Bud, and a nosy but goodhearted neighbor, Marge, who uses binoculars to peer into Francesca's home. (Marge and Bud are respectively, and gamely, played by Cass Morgan and Hunter Foster.)