Frank Rizzo — Theater Critic

The spectacular lighting (Jen Schriever and Arden) and sound design (Adam Fisher) create a world of foreboding and creepiness. Dane Lafrey’s magnificent, multi-level design makes maximum use of the Palace’s cavernous stage to create a lair to die for. It’s also a grand space for mesmerizing aerial work, staged by Gwyneth Larsen and Billy Mulholland. Those exquisite night flights bring to mind another bunch of Neverlanders longing for home. In “The Lost Boys” at least one of them makes it back.

The production will no doubt satisfy “Rocky Horror Show” fetishists who still find comfort in the liturgical rituals of a by-gone counter-culture. Others, however, will just find themselves in a tired time warp.

The production will no doubt satisfy “Rocky Horror Show” fetishists who still find comfort in the liturgical rituals of a by-gone counter-culture. Others, however, will just find themselves in a tired time warp.

Sadly there’s little wind beneath this uninspired musical’s thin and tattered wings. Even the film’s critic-defying, pinky-swearing fanbase may be disappointed in the barebones production, jarring plotting, tired dialogue and ham-handed staging. A tour is slated after the limited Broadway run.

Advertised as a strictly limited run, the show’s established and Millennial-friendly fan base should be coming back for seconds and the Broadway gig will give cachet to future cruises. Overall, while the musical is not quite a night to remember, let’s just say the show is, well, fantastíque.

In Rachel Hauck’s magnificent design of an industrial space repurposed as a makeshift ballroom, a catwalk extends from center stage into the orchestra (and shortened from its previous run to accommodate Broadway balcony sight lines.) But the vibrancy and hearts of these characters whose new identities and senses of self are on the line is just as thrilling.

In productions large or small — or, here, imperfectly in-between, though still glorious — everything is the service of the show that creates with words, music and movement a grand American tapestry — tears and all.

But Lloyd’s awkward staging here and questionable affectations (including an audience clap-along) makes Pozzo’s relationship with Lucky unfocused and puzzling. Beckett’s symbols of master and slave — the whip, the rope, the servant weighed down with baggage — are either mimed or cut and in doing so lose its real horror. Thornton uses a wheelchair, and here his Lucky is guided by his tormentor. But the character’s state of servitude is largely hidden in clumsy blocking. Thornton, however, is magnificent in Lucky’s epic “thinking” tirade, a babbling aria with its own inner logic.

Such perspectives make Wax’s Izzy a multi-layered and often contradictory character: self-assured, yet also self-doubting; brazen, yet guilty; fearless, yet also fearful. These swerves of impulses could easily go off the tracks but the combination of the steady direction of Sarna Lapine (“Sunday in the Park With George“) and Smart’s riveting performance make Izzy’s world real and her conflicts believable. T-Bone Burnett’s original music, Donald Holder’s lighting and Mikiko Suzuki MacAdams’ set design also give the production an atmospheric grounding.

Though sure to please many audiences, the show’s ending also feels unearned and underwritten. Perhaps if only Carmen could fully realize that Ana’s future writing will create something special that honors not only her but all the women like Carmen who, with fortitude, resilience and passion, will always be there making it work.

Beginning with the title, the show presents itself simply yet exquisitely. It’s clearly a labor of love, curated by Mackintosh — mostly from the Sondheim shows he’s produced — and starring some of the composer’s veteran players. But this is no musical shiva for close friends and family. More than a tribute, it’s a feast — and one of the most heartfelt and joyous shows of the season.

“Boop!” shows that cartoon makeovers may be an enticing novelty, but to really succeed it first needs to be well drawn.

Though the main characters are played for laughs, each one, amid all the comic chaos, also reveals their own dignity, heart, and humanity. The show also manages to teeter between patriotism and subversiveness: admiring the derring-do of the mission while poking at its shortcomings, too. Having the actors play any gender of any character without camp or winks is a theatrical approach that not only cleverly skirts the sexist and classist ick of that era but coolly comments on it, too.

But this deeply rooted music is a powerful magnet not only for her but for the audience, too, even if some wouldn’t know a bolero from a guajira. Though all lyrics are untranslated, the essence is easily understood and deeply felt. You don’t have to be Cuban to feel the nostalgia, romance, loss, liberation, joys, and pride in such well-lived music.

In her musical theater bow, composer Kate Diaz helps in making us see the forest from the tree. Her songs and underscoring are of a singular, reflective piece, with rich melodies and evocative arrangements and orchestrations — though the lyrics lean toward the generic. “Great Escape” and “No Repair” are among the standout songs using Menzel’s own force-of-nature notes in strategic ways. The show’s climax, while not particularly surprising, is honestly earned and emotionally charged in the heart-healing song, “Still,” powerfully sung by Piser.

There’s a cozy ease that permeates “All In,” in which a rotating cast of celebs narrates, with both flourish and offhandedness, the humorous and offbeat essays of The New Yorker writer Simon Rich. It’s the kind of comic comfort that easily fits into the holiday period but also into a Broadway season that is especially welcoming to laughter.

Everything in the musical is fantastically bigger and bolder, from Derek McLane’s goth-meets-Hollywood-excess design to Paul Tazewell’s fabulous costumes to Doug Besterman’s lush orchestrations. Charles LaPointe’s wigs are terrific, too. The tuneful score and witty lyrics are by Julia Mattison and Noel Carey, making an impressive Broadway bow.

It takes more than a holy spirit and revivalist verve to make “Tammy Faye” divinely suited for musical theater. It would take a creative team knowing what their show wants to be: a campy hoot, a stinging indictment, an anguished melodrama, a witty satire, a revealing biography? The new Broadway musical “Tammy Faye” touches on all of these points of view but lands on none with any sense of confidence, consistency or purpose. It’s as messy as Tammy’s mascara.

Jez Butterworth’s ambitious, captivating and richly rewarding domestic drama “The Hills of California” straddles dual worlds of dreams and reality as it shuttles between two pivotal time periods in the lives of the Webb women. Though this densely-packed, 17-actor play is more family-focused in its themes than Butterworth’s previous, stunning epics “Jerusalem” and “The Ferryman,” “The Hills of California” — also directed by Sam Mendes, who staged the Tony-winning “Ferryman” — strikes societal notes, too, as it details women with limited choices and plenty of obstacles in an ever-changing world.

Cott, who was impressive as the lead in “Bandstand,” sings the hell out of the songs. But his striking good looks, not to mention his well-displayed biceps and abs, makes him perhaps too much of a slick outsider to be thoroughly credible in Huey’s working-for-a-living world. Still, since the show keeps its ambitions in check with its sensibly-scaled production and low-stakes book, it doesn’t really matter that it thinks inside the box. After all, cardboard has its uses.

There’s an expectation that in Morgan’s latest merging of historic fact and fiction that the writer of “The Crown” on TV, “The Audience” on stage and “The Queen” on film will once again provide an intimate and revealing look behind another well-guarded curtain, this time one that is made of iron. But on this foreign turf Morgan’s footing is less sure, he’s less able to speak with the native authenticity that he brought to his other, far richer works. These charmless characters are broadly outlined, psychologically shallow and simplistically played.

Audiences may feel the same way after seeing this work of theatrical virtuosity, realizing that all the tiny details, wild rhythms, and clever hooks presented on stage have added up to a work that is brave, purposeful, and rich.

As writer, Taub smartly avoids the facile men-against-women tropes and digs deeper into internal challenges within the movement and within the women as individuals. Thanks to the specificity of the writing, music and lyrics and a remarkable ensemble of women and nonbinary actors, the multitude of characters in this densely packed historic narrative are, if not deeply, then at least reasonably well-defined and relatable with their personal doubts, fears and triumphs.

Certainly Eden Espinosa, starring in the title role, brings both luminosity and strength to her powerful performance as the ambitious, visionary and resilient artist known for capturing the women of her day in an aspirational light: perfectly poised, coiffed and seemingly glowing from within. But the musical’s titular character is not so polished. Rather she’s a complicated woman — to a fault. This might not be as much of a concern in a thick biography, but it’s harder to convey successfully in a musical where a clearer line is needed as it follows epochs of life, society and art.

For followers of the book and film, the climactic moment on stage remains equally thrilling — and the most creative stampede since the wildebeest run in “The Lion King” (whose co-producer Peter Schneider is also top-lined here). This underdog circus troupe may promote its entertainment as “Benzini Brothers’ Most Spectacular Show on Earth,” but for this rube’s nickels, “Water for Elephants” could be the greatest show on Broadway.