Frank Rizzo — Theater Critic

Just as he did with Punchdrunk’s long-running date night phenom “Sleep No More,” director Felix Barrett creates an impressive otherworldly, immersive experience. But this time the audience is sitting in place, as he expertly guides the gasps like a sinister maestro, and offers an exhilarating funhouse night in the theater.

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.

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 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.

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.

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

“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.

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.

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.