Frank Rizzo — Theater Critic

As for the production, the staging by Michael Greif (“Dear Evan Hansen,” “Next to Normal”) and Schele Williams (“The Wiz”) feels, for all its intention of intimacy, contrived and unsurprising. For a while the cross-cutting of the three couples haunting each other is intriguing but soon Katie Spelman’s choreography of past and future lives ever-circling each other simply becomes a dizzying one-note effect. The cross-racial casting of couples nicely underscores the universality of the romance and the ease of imaginative leaps in musical theater.

In the end, it’s not “Gutenberg” the show but rather this odd coupling of comedic pals, both on stage and off, that delights. Hats off to them.

In a story that hearkens back to 1955, you could wish this musical’s creators had considered what made musical theater so great in that golden era. Perhaps they might have crafted something more fresh and tuneful, with goosebump moments that come not from hydraulics but from theatrical know-how. Sometimes looking at the past with fresh eyes can lead to a new road forward, but with “Back to the Future,” time just stands still.

There’s not one false note in director Daniel Sullivan’s clear direction or in the natural yet precise performances of Linney and Hecht, who are working at the top of their game and together offer a master class in acting.

But in its place Sorkin and the veteran director Bartlett Sher (“South Pacific,” “The King and I”) jettison much of the fun, too. What remains is a cooler “Camelot,” with its own head-scratching dramaturgy. In making the three central characters — King Arthur (Andrew Burnap), Queen Guenevere (Phillipa Soo) and Sir Lancelot (Jordan Donica) — all tied up in emotional knots yet strangely aloof, the production’s creative team also deprives the show of much of its heart, joy and romance.

Key to this retelling is the presentational style of the show, which is common for City Center’s Encores! shows and here becomes an asset as it sharpens the focus and always keeps the musical numbers front and center, enhanced by Heather Gilbert’s lighting, Susan Hilferty’s period costumes and Jon Weston’s sound design. The tri-level raised stage by Dane Laffrey also keeps it simple, effectively standing in for a wide variety of locales: factory offices, court room, ballroom, gravesites, prison cell and ultimately gallows. Co-choreographers Lauren Yalango-Grant and Christopher Cree Grant make the sweep of history move with grace and flair. Sven Ortel’s projections of vintage photographs of the actual characters, settings and headlines are a constant reminder of the real world and its actual history. This theatrically thrilling revival of “Parade” teaches lessons that still need to be learned from a wicked past that haunts us still.

This stage production boasts swell performances, dandy twists and turns, razzmatazz dancing and a whole lotta energy (under the savvy, playful direction and choreography of Casey Nicholaw) — all of which should please new audiences without alienating fans of the original. If the songs by Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman (“Hairspray,” “Smash”) don’t always score high marks, well: Nobody’s perfect.

Kitt and Crowe also fashion several effective numbers sung by William's no-nonsense but supportive mother Elaine (Anika Larsen), a schoolteacher who frets from home. Here, she's given variations of the film's great monologues: One is a lecture to her class in which she memorably declares, 'Rock stars have kidnapped my son,' and in another, she gives Russell a dose of parental terror over the phone. Larsen lands both moments beautifully, with just the right comic gravitas and heart. But these skillful original songs only tell half the story. We never hear expressed - in a way that only musical theater can do - what this music means to these characters. Instead, at key dramatic moments we get renditions of the hits of the era, notably Elton John's 'Tiny Dancer' as a kind of carpool karaoke, Joni Mitchell's 'River' and Yusef Islam's (aka Cat Stevens) 'The Wind.' But even in minor moments the musical forgoes original songs and turns to tunes from Nancy Wilson, Ron Davies, Stevie Wonder, Greg Allman, Jimmy Page and Robert Point, among others.

Co-directors Diane Paulus and Jeffrey L. Page apply a bold Brechtian brush to this picture with its casting, staging, musical arrangements and design. Without changing the narrative, it adds layers of context that offer further shadings to the musical, even though at times the results are somewhat crude, clunky or overdone.

The end result is certainly the funniest show on Broadway in years, if not the most likable. Look for a healthy run, at least with headliner Crystal, who last packed houses with his autobiographical show '700 Sundays.' And with composer Jason Robert Brown and lyricist Amanda Green supplying one of the most appealing and disarming scores in some time, what's not to like?

The problem with this uninspired revival of 'Funny Girl' - which opened at the August Wilson Theatre on Sunday, marking the show's Broadway return after nearly 60 years - is not simply the singular ghost of she who shall not be named. (Alright: It's Barbra Streisand.) Rather, the issue here is the production's inability to live up to its star-making potential that would have made us once again forgive the simplistic, sentimental and sanitized original book credited to Isobel Lennart.

Directed by Scott Ellis, this revival, too, is a solid hit, despite a few grounding errors. It should also prove to be popular for all market segments, especially with its triple-play of television favorites: two who are taking their Broadway bows for the first time, along with a beloved stage veteran.

Hnath has expertly crafted a piece of theater that is both raw and authentic yet at the same time one of artifice, and it is in this in-between plane that the audience lives. There is no hiding the fact that this is a lip-synced piece based on the recordings of many days of interviews by dramaturg Steve Cosson. At the show's start, O'Connell is clearly outfitted on stage with an ear-piece and given a quick sound check. There are electronic beeps throughout, as a reminder that this is an edited, recorded work. Supertitles add information and separate the three acts of the narration.

There's the spirit-lifting energy of an arena concert, the humor and sass of a special sisterhood, and a ton of biographical exposition easily received in rap and snap - and which might evoke another recent historical musical. Just as Lin-Manuel Miranda's 'Hamilton' made us hyper-aware of 'who lives, who dies, who tells your story,' this show now gives voice to these Tudor #MeToos, presenting a feminist - both proto and post - version of 'herstory.' As one character says, 'History's about to get over-throned.'

Those expecting a traditional take on Charles Dickens' classic holiday perennial may be in for a shock at the new Broadway version of 'A Christmas Carol.' Or at least they might be terribly perplexed by this dour production, whose additions only subtract from the potency of the transformative tale. While there have been many adaptations - from solo shows to musicals to ghostly imaginings - most stick pretty close to the storyline and character arc of the tightly crafted original. But this import from London's Old Vic - here starring Campbell Scott - would certainly have Dickens scratching his noggin.

McCarrell's believable boyishness, sweet vulnerability, gangly posturing and off-handed humor is appealing, and he manages to keep you engaged even if you've long lost interest in the details of the plot. His singing is sure, and in 'Good Kid,' the best number in the musical, he shows in a heartbreaking way the pain of trying to fit in before he discovers that 'normal is a myth.'

The ensemble attempts some long-form storytelling, too, using incidents from the lives of selected audience members. Some of these sequences prove more satisfying than others, but it's always entertaining in watching the struggle, sweat and strain of the refrain. With the pulsating beat always driving them on, there's no place to hide. But when everything falls into place, it's sublime.

It's a simple yet still visually appealing show with a seemingly stripped-down stage, set in a blue-black void (scenic elements by Takeshi Kata) and dreamily illuminated by Ben Stanton. There's no Vegas glitz here even if there may be the urge to head to a casino after the show. (Old habits die hard.)

The retooling done since its out-of-town tryout in D.C. - along with a host of others plot twists and character tweaks - gives the latest film-to-musical adaptation fresh snap, surprises and (gasp!) even heart. Sure, the narrative becomes a bit of a cluster-muck in the second act - but mostly it's just screamingly good fun.

Garish, lurid and brash, 'Ink,' the British import now on Broadway in a Manhattan Theatre Club production, is the theatrical equivalent of its subject, the UK's Daily Sun - the newspaper that reshaped British journalism and propelled Rupert Murdoch's ascent to media mogul. Like the tabloid, it feels unsubstantial, rushed and icky.

Don't be fooled by the placid backyard setting, neighborly small talk and father-son joviality at the start of the Roundabout Theatre Company's blistering revival of Arthur Miller's 'All My Sons' starring Annette Bening and Tracy Letts. There are plenty of secrets, resentments and disillusionments ahead, poised to rip this sunny Middle Americana facade to shreds.

Driver, a mesmerizing presence in TV's 'Girls' and the latest 'Star Wars' trilogy, lives up to expectations of the showcase role originally played by John Malkovich. Driver is riveting here, and audiences will identify with Anna's dilemma of both wanting him to leave and needing him to stay. In many ways, 'Burn This' is Anna's play, but any actress would find it hard to compete against the monologues-as-arias that Wilson gives Pale. There are no such showcase moments for Anna, though Russell can be a spellbinder, too, as she tells the story of being in a room filled with pinned butterflies. The metaphor suits Anna all too well. Russell, whose stage credits are slim but who's proven her chops onscreen in 'The Americans,' creates a vivid, if less flashy, performance. Still, she's a force in her own right as she summons a quiet strength beneath her fragility, a sense of groundedness under her shifting emotions and a shaky will to move on despite the hole in her heart.

But polished performances, slick choreography (by Sergio Trujillio) and a slate of 31 Motown tunes should satisfy audiences who might not be looking for probing storytelling, as long as the show delivers well-performed hits. That it does, as it centers on the story of the classic quintet of performers singing 'Cloud Nine,' 'If You Don't Know Me By Now,' 'My Girl,' 'I'm Gonna Make You Love Me' and the title song, among others - including some songs that weren't the group's own.

Director Scott Ellis' production doesn't try to make much sense of a narrative that includes Damon Runyon-style gangsters in a far-fetched subplot, and instead sticks with a playful spirit in the hopes that audiences will ride out the nonsense as long as the show delivers on entertainment. And it often does, especially when it dances to Warren Carlyle's choreography, whether it's in the frisky 'Tom, Dick or Harry' or in the sizzling Act 2 opener 'Too Darn Hot,' featuring Corbin Bleu and James T. Lane in impressive solo turns.

Choosing to recreate the spirit of the television variety shows that Sonny and Cher - and then Cher sans Sonny - headlined in the '70s is a choice that lands as flat as the jokes in Broadway's latest jukebox bio, 'The Cher Show.' Its attempt to celebrate the resilience of its 'bad-ass' star and her half-century career of highs and lows rarely rises above that TV series' taste for cliches, corn and cheese. Despite an icon with attitude, an armful of pop tunes and a can-do cast, the script never quite finds a satisfying style - or a genuine heart - as a winning stage musical. As Cher might say: Broadway's a bitch.