Frank Scheck

That immediately clues you in as to what you’re in for with this ultra-modern production which should more accurately be titled A Doll’s House: The Reading. That approach is a particular specialty of Lloyd’s, who apparently feels that such things as costumes, scenery, and lighting that’s bright enough to discern which actors are speaking, are simply too bourgeois. Instead, we’re supposed to concentrate on the text, the text, the text, which would be fine if you were attending an Actors Studio workshop. On Broadway, it just feels like the height of pretension. Theatergoers can be forgiven for thinking, “I’ve paid $200 for this ticket. Would it kill them to spring for a sofa?”

Under the scattershot direction of Scott Elliott, the actors, many of whom are familiar, are all over the place. At times, you feel like they’ve just been introduced to each other. Some manage to find the humanity in their characters, with Nef, Wolff, Cale and Amy Stiller having their moments. And Posey is an absolute delight, even if she feels miscast, with her extensive comedic experience in Christopher Guest’s films (and many, many others) serving her well in her impeccably timed delivery of Irene’s biting asides.

Pictures from Home proves less artful than the photo book that inspired it, but the universality of its themes and the power of its performances make it pack an emotional punch nonetheless. It would make even more of an impact if it had been housed in a more suitable theater. (Memo to Broadway producers: Studio 54 is not an appropriate venue for small-scale, intimate dramas.)

Though the writing is a letdown, The Collaboration nonetheless proves entertaining, thanks to the colorful figures at its center and the superb acting. Bettany had the harder assignment of not caricaturing Warhol, even though by that point Warhol had already become a caricature of himself. He handles the task beautifully, avoiding excessively overt imitation and somehow managing to convey Warhol’s underlying Andrew Warhola. Pope ­— as much a star on the rise as the character he’s portraying, thanks to his Tony-nominated work in Choir Boy and Ain’t Too Proud and his acclaimed starring role in the film The Inspection — delivers a rivetingly physical, live-wire turn, exuding restless energy and speaking in a high-pitched voice that sounds like Michael Jackson. The two actors’ mesmerizing turns, soon to be repeated in a film adaptation of the play, are, as the old saying goes, worth the price of admission alone.

Denis Johnson’s play takes place entirely in a kitchen. But Des Moines, being given its New York premiere by Theatre for a New Audience, is as far from a kitchen sink drama as you can get. Sure, it starts out that way, with a middle-aged couple, Dan (Arliss Howard) and Marta (Johnna Day), sitting down for a snack and debating such issues as butter versus margarine while Dan eats some leftover microwaved spaghetti. But it isn’t long before this unsettling work from the late author of such acclaimed novels as Tree of Smoke and the short story collection Jesus’ Son turns into something far stranger. During the course of the evening all of the characters liberally consume the potent alcoholic drinks known as depth charges, and this play carries a depth charge of its own.

Shaiman’s music is tuneful enough, with the title number being downright catchy. But the songs never quite take hold, and the lyrics are disappointingly generic rather than displaying the wit the farcical storyline deserves. And while Nicholaw keeps things moving briskly and energetically, whipping the large ensemble into one dynamic production number after another, eventually they begin to feel formulaic. There’s so much tap dancing that you start to wonder if he’s being paid by the tap, and a frenzied chase scene, complete with doors being brought onstage just for the purpose of being slammed, is expertly orchestrated but so reminiscent of Jerome Robbins’ “Bathing Beauty Ballet” from High Button Shoes that his estate should be seeking royalties.

The problem is that Diamond, at least as he’s portrayed here, isn’t much fun to spend two-and-a-quarter hours with. Will Swenson and Mark Jacoby, as the younger and older versions respectively, do what they can, with the former obviously having the advantage because he gets to show off the sequined outfits and sing all of the hits. But the more they both mope about the problems of being a rich and famous pop star adored by millions, the more you want to channel your inner Cher, slap them silly, and yell, “Snap out of it!”

The 2017 Off-Broadway incarnation of the new musical KPOP opened at a venue just a few blocks away from its current Broadway home at the Circle in the Square. But despite the short distance, much of the show’s impact has been lost along the way. The original production was immersive, with segments of the audience moving from one location to another to witness the aching workloads and personal conflicts of young Korean performers to achieve stardom under the guidance of an ambitious record label. That aspect has been necessarily and understandably lost in the show’s transition to a traditional Broadway theater, albeit the only one featuring in-the-round seating. Unfortunately, much of what made the earlier production interesting has been discarded as well, resulting in a more sanitized, less thematically interesting experience that mainly relies on the propulsive energy of its many musical numbers to fuel the evening. The end result provides a reasonably enjoyable facsimile of K-Pop music, but it’s certainly not the same KPOP.

But those are minor quibbles about the transfixing production with its virtuosic solo performance (another actor, Danny Gardner, appears briefly as “The Spectre”) and dazzling stage wizardry that would give Harry Potter a run for his money. This Christmas Carol may not be the most exuberant or sentimental one you’ve ever encountered, but it will certainly prove one of the most memorable.

If you're anything like me, you probably haven't spent a lot of time wondering why Juliet had to die at the conclusion of Shakespeare's classic Romeo & Juliet. But the creators of the new Broadway musical & Juliet apparently have, resulting in the latest of what seems like an endless torrent of jukebox musicals. Fortunately, this effort featuring dozens of earworm-heavy smash hits by pop composer/producer Max Martin (a name you may not know, but you'll have no trouble recognizing his songs) and his various collaborators provides the sort of infectious silliness that makes for a very enjoyable evening, provided that you leave your brains at the door.

This is the sort of theatrical memoir for which the term 'lyrical' must have been invented. Recounting the story of his early life and only briefly dipping into the sort of show business anecdotes (none of them particularly juicy, alas) for which some gossip-craving theatergoers might be hoping, the piece is so quintessentially Irish that you'll find yourself craving a Guinness on the way home. Redolent of both James Joyce and Eugene O'Neill, two writers whose work Bryne has performed in his lengthy career, Walking with Ghosts feels far more literary than theatrical.

Whether or not to preserve the legacy of the past, however horrific, is the compelling theme of this elemental drama which showcases Wilson's prodigious gifts for poetical dialogue and richly drawn characterizations. It's filled with emotionally resonant moments, the quieter of which are the best rendered in this production. Perhaps the highlight is the scene in which the eager Lymon, newly clad in a resplendent if far too small silk suit and fancy shoes that he's purchased from Doaker's comically blustery brother Wining Boy (Michael Potts, terrific), nearly manages to break down Berniece's emotional defenses by gifting her with a bottle of fancy perfume. Brooks and Fisher play the delicate scene perfectly, thoroughly winning over the audience which practically swoons. Unfortunately, the production falters in its more explosive moments, with Washington, apparently making his stage acting debut, maintaining such a high energy and decibel level throughout that his unmodulated performance becomes monotonous. Boy Willie is supposed to be the volcanic center of the drama, but here he comes across as more irritating than a force of nature.

Everything in the production seems pitched over the top, including Willy's declining mental condition, which here feels more like full-blown dementia than merely a man defeated by life who is losing his grip. The flashback scene in which Willy is discovered by Biff (Khris Davis) to be in a hotel room with another woman (Lynn Hawley) is bizarrely played for laughs, with the woman loudly cackling in demented fashion. Throughout the evening, the actors frequently shout their lines, as if not trusting us to appreciate the dialogue.

Martyna Majok's Pulitzer Prize winning drama has fortunately been given a chance to achieve greater exposure after its limited 2017 run at Off-Broadway's Manhattan Theatre Club. Currently playing on Broadway in a partially recast version produced by the same organization, Cost of Living has lost none of its emotional power and poignancy. Although dealing largely with the difficulties of two physically disabled characters, this is really a beautifully observed play about the human condition in general.

But, and it's a very big but, none of this will matter to Crystal fans, as everyone should be. The 74-year-old performer displays the vitality of someone half his age, his energy fueled by the waves of audience laughter cascading over the footlights. It's a treat to see him up close and personal as he works his tuchus off (the Yiddishisms prove infectious) to entertain us. Mr. Saturday Night would prove an absolute triumph for him...as long as you eliminated the plot, the supporting characters, and the musical numbers.

Mixing pitch black comedy with genuine terror, Hangman reveals McDonagh at his most technically accomplished, although not his most profound. Overlong at nearly two-and-a-half hours, the play feels like an extended episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, complete with twist ending. Despite its longueurs, however, it's wonderfully entertaining, thanks to the playwright's gift for acerbically funny and ever-surprising dialogue, the superb performances by its well-honed ensemble, and Matthew Dunster's marvelous staging that fully immerses you in the morbidly funny proceedings. Anna Fleischle's set design, featuring inventive use of the overhead space, is a stunner. While the first act drags at times, the second barrels along at breakneck pace, the highlight being the unexpected arrival of Pierrepoint himself (John Hodgkinson, stealing the show in just a few minutes), who makes clear his intense unhappiness at the way Harry spoke about him in his interview.

Audience mileage will vary on the play which transforms itself from a satirical comedy about small-town bureaucracy to a dark vision of historical revisionism and collective guilt. Lett’s audacious conceit doesn’t fully work in its lengthy build-up and abrupt transition to surrealism. But it’s nonetheless a bracing and fascinating attempt to wrestle with deep moral themes.

The current Broadway revival seems designed to showcase Sam Rockwell, who has often played fast-talking, dim-witted and often racist characters in his illustrious career, as exemplified by his Oscar-winning turn in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. The role of Teach seems tailor-made for him, much as it did for Al Pacino decades earlier, and, not surprisingly, he kills in the part. But what makes this production so successful - unlike its previous, mediocre Broadway revival in 2008, starring John Leguizamo, Cedric the Entertainer and Haley Joel Osment, which only lasted a week - is that his co-stars are equally up to the challenge.

It's hard to say for whom the show is intended. Children, the presumed target audience, are likely to be bored out of their minds (thankfully, there's an intermission to provide them the opportunity to vent), while baffled adults will find their stamina tested by the 110-minute running time which seems to go on forever. The overblown but underwhelming production seems lost in the vast Broadway Theatre, but probably would have seemed right at home in the intimate New Victory. There will be some, no doubt, who will find the proceedings magical and transporting. After all, lava lamps were once all the rage.

For many, Birthday Candles will no doubt prove deeply moving, especially since it inevitably deals with so many relatable issues for both young and old. And if I'm being honest, there were moments that got to me as well, proving that there's still something resembling a heart beneath this curmudgeonly exterior. But then, I've always found cheap music extraordinarily potent.

There's nothing revelatory about this Music Man, and that's probably just as well. In its determined effort to evoke the musical comedy Broadway of yore and make us feel happy simply to be in a theater again, the show ironically feels urgently timely.

If you've ever hung out at a break room at work, you know that generally not very much happens there. People eat snacks, engage in small talk, and generally relax during the few precious minutes they have before resuming their labor. Playwright Dominique Morisseau captures that ambience all too well in her 2016 play now receiving its Broadway premiere courtesy of Manhattan Theatre Club. Stronger on atmosphere than actual drama, Skeleton Crew never proves thematically arresting, although it does earn points for sociological resonance.

The musical receiving its world premiere from Lincoln Center Theater was one of the most eagerly anticipated of the season, for good reasons. Besides the formidable creative team, the lavish production features a killer cast including Harry Hadden-Paton, Carmen Cusack, Tony Yazbeck, and Robert Sella as Gerald Heard, the philosopher/author who guides the trio through their drug-induced trips. Besides, how can you not root for a large-scale Broadway musical not based on a pre-existing property and featuring such an audaciously original concept? It's sad to report, then, that the show from the librettist of such landmark musicals as Sunday in the Park with George, Into the Woods, and Passion is a misfire. A provocative misfire, to be sure, and one that will no doubt have its ardent admirers. But a misfire nonetheless.

Strange as it may be to say, getting shut down by the pandemic during previews last year might have been the best thing to happen to the new Broadway musical Mrs. Doubtfire. For one thing, the long hiatus gave some breathing room between this adaptation of the hit 1993 movie starring Robin Williams and Tootsie, the short-lived Broadway musical also revolving around a straight man who dresses in drag. For another, it provided the opportunity for the creators to do some apparently much-needed tinkering, as evidenced by early reports. Finally, the long theatrical dry spell has created a renewed appetite for a feel-good, family-friendly musical comedy. At a late preview performance, you could feel the audience's desire to simply relax and have a good time.

Director Charles Randolph-Wright doesn't successfully balance the play's comic and dramatic elements, with the result that the evening sometimes feels like a backstage comedy and other times like a polemic on race relations. The performances, too, vary in effectiveness, with the most memorable work coming from the luminous LaChanze, the veteran Cooper, and Dukes, who makes the most of the sardonic Millie.From a historical perspective, Trouble in Mind is an important, groundbreaking work. It's just a shame that it feels so dated now upon its long belated Broadway premiere.