Elysa Gardner

Early in the 20th century, a group of extraordinary men came together, devoted to providing lesser mortals constant examples of physical and spiritual excellence. In the years that followed, they endured all manner of tragedy and adversity to stick together, so that we, too, could survive as a nation. This is not a reference to some elite military unit or civil-service organization, but to the New York Yankees, the subject of Bronx Bombers (* * out of four stars), the new play/hagiography that opened Thursday at Broadway's Circle in the Square Theatre.

O'Byrne's Anthony is an awkward loner for whom any degree of social interaction is a hurdle, but he conveys a sort of blunt integrity and a disarming sweetness that make it plausible a feisty beauty like Rosemary would fall for him...Rosemary has her own neurotic tics, visible despite the brittle exterior she has developed to ward off various wooers. In Messing's funny, moving performance, we see how Anthony breaks through that armor - even though it's Rosemary who, in an intermittently awkward but endearing climax, determines to force Anthony out of his shell...Outside Mullingar's account of human connection is generally less provocative, and a lot more comforting. But if Shanley is raising less-complicated questions this time, there are flecks of wisdom in his sweetly diverting study.

...this stark new staging, which opened Thursday at the American Airlines Theatre, forces us - and its cast, rigorously directed by Lyndsey Turner - to confront Machinal's own limitations. From the opening subway segment (Turner's addition) on, we get a keen sense of how Helen, played by Rebecca Hall in her Broadway debut, feels smothered by everything and everyone around her...An accomplished stage actress with acclaimed British productions of Shakespeare and Shaw under her belt, the leading lady seems stumped by her character's exaggerated inability to articulate her unhappiness beyond vague yearnings for freedom...By the time Machinal runs its course, theatergoers may feel as if they're the ones who have been beaten into submission, by an anti-heroine who inspires dark fascination but little empathy.

In recent years, Mueller has brought a shimmering soprano and finely tuned comic sensibility to a variety of quirky ingénue roles. Mueller's portrayal of King - far and away the best reason to see Beautiful, which opened Sunday at Broadway's Stephen Sondheim Theatre - is at once an affirmation of those virtues and a revelation...Beautiful seems less concerned with exploring King's story than with using it to string together familiar tunes...Granted, shows like Beautiful aren't generally sought out or valued for their nuanced drama. But more discerning fans will be grateful for the little bit of soul that Mueller and Epstein manage to bring to Broadway's latest musical nostalgia trip.

In recent years, Mueller has brought a shimmering soprano and finely tuned comic sensibility to a variety of quirky ingénue roles. Mueller's portrayal of King - far and away the best reason to see Beautiful, which opened Sunday at Broadway's Stephen Sondheim Theatre - is at once an affirmation of those virtues and a revelation...Beautiful seems less concerned with exploring King's story than with using it to string together familiar tunes...Granted, shows like Beautiful aren't generally sought out or valued for their nuanced drama. But more discerning fans will be grateful for the little bit of soul that Mueller and Epstein manage to bring to Broadway's latest musical nostalgia trip.

That's not to say the sense of futility and despair in this Godot isn't palpable. As this staging, vigorously directed by Sean Mathias, emphasizes, the comic and tragic elements of this absurdist classic are interwoven.

Hirst, played here by a marvelously deadpan Stewart, listens and drinks while Spooner — McKellen, exquisite in his poised buffoonery — babbles on. The host and his guest met in a bar, we're informed, but in Act Two, which takes place the next morning, it's implied they may be old friends. Or, as their increasingly curious recollections and revelations (especially Spooner's) can suggest, we could be witnessing a game, or a scam, or some blurring of reality and fantasy or delusion.

Mays is as funny evoking the characters' often-grisly ends as he is giving them quirky life. The buff, blustering major is undone by his machismo, while poor, delicate Henry - whose particular fondness for Monty informs the side-splitting duet Better with a Man, one of several catchy, clever songs by composer/lyricist Steven Lutvak and lyricist/librettist Robert L. Freedman - finds his beloved little buzzers turned unwittingly against him...The actor who plays Monty, Bryce Pinkham, is pretty of voice and bone structure, but not a natural comic performer. He loosens up nicely as Guide progresses, though, and receives ample support from a sassy Lisa O'Hare and crystalline-voiced Lauren Worsham, as Monty's rival love interests. Ultimately, of course, this is Mays' show - and he seems to have as grand a time carrying it as you will watching him.

At the Imperial Theatre, where Sundays opened Wednesday, Crystal proves an impressively spry senior, even doing a cartwheel at one point. But it isn't youthful energy that seems to propel his rapid-fire delivery as much as a sense of urgency that his story, and the story of his extended family, be shared again...Fortunately, any hints of self-conscious, kumbaya-ish social commentary are folded seamlessly into the comedy, which is gently irreverent, endearingly good-natured and, yes, funny. Your tolerance for Yiddish and penis jokes might be tested, but Crystal and original director Des McAnuff sustain a knowing goofiness that makes it all go down smoothly.

Rylance's Richard, if undoubtedly compelling, is more challenging. He bellows the famous opening words — 'Now is the winter of our discontent' — with a curious giddiness that quickly dissolves into sardonic self-loathing. Laughing nervously at himself, Rylance can make the murderous madman seem as wilted in spirit as he is physically.

As Olivia, the countess who falls for a woman she believes is a man — Viola, disguised as the servant Cesario — Rylance, his face slathered in white, moves with such exaggerated delicacy that he sometimes appears to be gliding on wheels, his teensy-weensy footsteps all but invisible.

In the new Broadway production After Midnight(three and a half out of four stars), which opened Sunday at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre, a big band shares the spotlight with the singers and dancers, moving front and center for several numbers. The Jazz At Lincoln Center All-Stars, as they're billed, were assembled by that group's artistic director, Wynton Marsalis; and you will be struck as much by their intensity, playfulness and sheer joy in making music as you are by their technical virtuosity.

...Sadly, though, this new production of a very different 20th-century classic, which opened Sunday at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, doesn't pack as much punch as you'd hope it would...Too often, this Betrayal seems to make the same statement as its marketing campaign. We're reminded that we are watching great thea-tuh, staged by a prestigious company, rather than being titillated or moved by the longing and anguish and bile that courses through the play's triangle...Craig is crisp and robust throughout, deftly illustrating Robert's capacity for menace, and he and Spall have some witty fun with the festering rivalry between the two buddies. But at length, their exchanges - while absorbing enough for those who enjoy watching educated Brits struggle with their feelings - never really draw blood.

...after a slow start, White's play (jointly produced by Manhattan Theatre Club and MCC Theater) evolves, under Daniel Sullivan's meticulous direction, into a lovely, moving account of a clan's struggle to adapt to trying circumstances and a changing world. White's Broadway debut, The Other Place, produced earlier this year, also followed a middle-aged woman whose grasp on reality was challenged, but it was a psychological mystery that blurred lines between past and present, imagination and fact. This more conventionally structured study of unlucky souls seems to have been written under Chekhov's spell.

Holmes' Kill is more sharply focused than the 1996 film adaptation of the novel, and does a better job of incorporating folksy humor into the disturbing and at times pedantic story...we watch the defendant, Carl Lee Hailey, as a jury would; and since he is played by the magnificent John Douglas Thomson - who delivers the most fully realized performance here - we are moved by his anguish, rage, obstinance and fundamental dignity...Carl Lee is represented by Kill's hero, Jake Brigance, an idealistic young lawyer played on screen by Matthew McConaughey, who imbued him with a slick nobility. In the play, he seems both greener and more ambitious, traits that Sebastian Arcelus' nimble performance emphasizes, without making Jake less appealing or admirable.

At its best, the play is an entertaining, and ultimately touching, study of these characters; and the new production -- which the Roundabout Theatre Company imported from London's Old Vic (with a new cast) -- delivers that with predictable warmth and ease. The polished authenticity is established immediately by Peter McKintosh's handsome set, which captures the upper-middle-class comfort of the Winslows' existence in the years just before World War I... As that comfort is threatened by Arthur's crusade, Roger Rees makes the toll physically palpable. Rees' Arthur seems to age before our eyes, growing wearier and more feeble, but retains the overwhelming devotion to Ronnie that transcends family pride. It's impossible not to root for this patriarch, even when his loved ones are frustrated by him...The truth, while more complicated, is no harder to predict than any of the developments in Winslow Boy; but this winsome revival will charm you nonetheless.

What the blues are, exactly, is a preoccupying concern in this musical tribute, which opened Thursday at Broadway's Lyceum Theatre. They can be, Joplin tells us at different points, 'a good woman feelin' bad,' or 'the want of something,' or occasionally 'the devil himself.' Speaking these lines, Mary Bridget Davies, who plays the late '60s rock goddess, is utterly credible as a hippie icon, from her alternately blissed-out and earnest vibe to her groovy period costumes (the latter provided by designer Amy Clark). Yet under the direction of Randy Johnson, who also wrote the book, Night offers a distinctly post-American Idol version of the blues. Davies is accompanied on stage by a band and four other spectacularly gifted female vocalists, who alternate as the backing 'Joplinaires' and various artists whose work inspired Joplin's; and the fireworks they provide can border perilously on crowd-pleasing caricature.

When Edward proposes to his future wife, Sandra, hundreds of yellow daffodils sparkle against a clear blue sky.Somehow, though, the effect isn't as dazzling, or as moving, as you would hope -- particularly given the talented players involved in this production, which opened Sunday at the Neil Simon Theatre...Butz, Baldwin and Bobby Steggert, as the grownup Will, all bring a sense of genuine humanity to their roles. In the end, though, this Big Fish lacks the imagination or cohesion to reel you in like one of its hero's yarns.

Jones, one of the greatest stage actresses alive, conveys this in a performance that will amaze even her most ardent admirers in its depth and compassion...This Menagerie...is by no means Jones' triumph alone. The four-person cast is as meticulously assembled as the titular collection of tiny glass animals that is Laura's most cherished possession. Director John Tiffany guides the players with sensitivity and vigor, underscoring both the dreamy, surreal aspects of Williams' 'memory play' and the brutal reality that the characters seem determined to shut out. Celia Keenan-Bolger brings an exquisite physical and vocal delicacy to Laura...As Tom, the family member most in touch with the outside world and also the narrator (describing a past based on the playwright's), Zachary Quinto moves deftly from recollection to confrontation, from dry asides to heated outbursts. A perfectly cast Brian J. Smith completes the company as the affable but mysterious 'Gentleman Caller' whose meeting with Laura sends the play hurtling toward its climax.

Alas, the musical's mix of hokey humor and preachy sentimentality is bound to test the most altruistic spirit...By the time he reaches Jerusalem -- near the end of Doctor, which runs two and a half hours with an intermission -- anyone still paying attention will have accumulated enough material for a goodwill sermon and a Borscht Belt comedy routine. Surely, there are more entertaining, less trying ways to promote universal harmony.

The simultaneously dimwitted and hyperactive brainchild of TV scribe Austin Winsberg (Gossip Girl, Jake in Progress) and songwriters Alan Zachary and Michael Weiner, First Date follows Aaron (Zachary Levi) and a gal, Casey (Krysta Rodriguez), as they meet over drinks and dinner. During an encounter that lasts, mercifully, only 95 minutes...And suffice to say that no cliché is left unturned...Levi nonetheless manages to make Aaron likable enough, just as Rodriguez gives Casey an authentic, appealing tartness. And being a romantic comedy, of course, First Date ends on a hopeful note.

Watching the new Beatles homage Let It Be (* * ½ out of four), certain audience members are bound to feel a sense of déjà vu - not for the Fab Four themselves, but for the last Broadway salute to them...Luckily, Let It Be's company, which includes supporting musicians, is competent enough as singers and instrumentalists to make the numbers compelling. A few of Fox's high notes were shaky at the preview, and the energy sagged a bit during an Unplugged-style acoustic segment that included such haunting classics as Blackbirdand Norwegian Wood. But more driving, muscular favorites, from Ticket to Ride to Come Together, were executed with enough panache to make you appreciate their magic, even without fully recapturing it. Which pretty much sums up both the appeal and the limitations of Let It Be - and other shows like it.

The tango is a dance that relies heavily on the physical and sensual rapport and tension between partners. The assorted couples in the regular cast - many of whom have appeared in previous stagings of Tango, which creator/director Luis Bravo conceived in the early '90s - lock into each other with an intensity that might seem almost satirical to the uninitiated...Smirnoff and Chmerkovskiy, in contrast, appear much more focused on seducing the audience...Their dancing may be technically impressive, but like the submedium that made them famous, it lacks wit, restraint and nuance.

The result is a combination of epic theater, burlesque and soulful spectacle that recaptures the show's shiny allure and its poignance while making it seem entirely fresh...The flawless company is led by Patina Miller as the Leading Player...and Matthew James Thomas as Pippin. The young stars work beautifully as both partners and foils: Miller, with her lithe body and megawatt smile, makes the Player both temptress and confidante, guiding Pippin with her siren's voice and sharp, sinuous dancing through a string of seductive but finally unfulfilling life choices. Thomas brings to his part a sweetly robust tenor and an earnestness befitting a naif with vague ambitions but little idea of what he truly wants.

Under Joe Mantello's pitch-perfect direction, Midler dives into the role with predictable relish -- which is not to say that she chews the scenery. However brassy her persona, Mengers clearly valued taste and discretion, as Pask's spacious, elegant scenic reminds us. Holding court over an audience whose members, as she repeatedly informs us, aren't nearly distinguished enough to warrant an invitation to her house, the actress brings an element of wry detachment to even some more personal observations.