Jessica Derschowitz

Those who come to the August Wilson expecting Michele to blow the roof off the place won't be disappointed. The surrounding buildings on 52nd Street should brace for impact, too. Michele uses her voice like a stealth missile, belting easily through marquee songs like 'People' and 'Don't Rain on My Parade' and earning all the enthusiastic applause she gets for them. She also has an easy chemistry with Ramin Karimloo's Nick Arnstein, the charming gambler Fanny falls for as she rises from young ambitions to prime placement in Ziegfeld's Follies. (Her rapport also sparkles with fellow show newcomer Tovah Feldshuh, who plays a deliciously spiky and deadpan Mrs. Brice.)

It all comes together in a stellar, harrowing production that reinforces why Miller's works still endure so many decades later: The world is filled with hardships and horrors, but they can also be lurking in your own backyard.

As far as tales as old as time go, the stories of Greek mythology are pretty high up there, those epic stories of gods and men that have been told for thousands of years and inspired countless adaptations. But there's little that feels old or stately about the way those stories - those old songs, those sad songs - are told in Hadestown, which makes its Broadway bow Thursday with a journey to the underworld that feels like it sprung forth as something entirely new.

Despite that perma-frenzied tone and the musical's underwhelming book, it's not surprising that Be More Chill has taken the journey it has. Iconis' pop-rock songs are catchy and the show channels the angst and insecurities many young people experience, particularly in this social-media-driven age. I just wish there was more beneath all that neon, high-intensity surface. But then again, if you're already one of the many, many fans of Be More Chill, my opinion probably isn't going to matter anyway.

Hawke and Dano - who've both received accolades recently for the film First Reformed and the Showtime series Escape at Dannemora, respectively - do an excellent job going round for round, playing into the comedic moments of their fighting, and director James Macdonald gives the play a cinematic touch by using music and a picture-frame effect of bright lights around the stage between scenes. (The costumes, by Kaye Voyce, get more disheveled as the action ramps up.) But while watching them go at it is entertaining, what the play is fighting for isn't as clear. There are themes of sibling rivalry and family strife (their father, unseen but spoken of, is a drunk living alone out in the desert), the idealized lawlessness of the Wild West, the way Hollywood deals are done and just as easily undone. But all those questions are left unanswered, with strewn beer cans and dead plants to show for all the debate.

The new King Kong musical, which opens Thursday at the Broadway Theatre, has taken a long journey to get to New York - not unlike the creature at the center of its story. The show's lengthy development process spanned years and two different continents (its first stage run opened in Australia in 2013) and stretched into the 11th hour - a matinee was canceled last week so the production could make 'final adjustments.' (This incarnation has a book by Harry Potter and the Cursed Child author Jack Thorne and songs from composer Eddie Perfect.) Would it be too on-the-nose to call it a gargantuan gamble? When your title star is a massive marionette, maybe not.

You don't need to know much of anything about billiards to get hooked into this witty play from prolific playwright Richard Bean (One Man, Two Guvnors), which came to Broadway after a well-received 2016 run in the U.K.

To keep with the musical parlance of the title, Gettin' the Band Back Together is like hearing an artist cover a favorite song - it's not the first time you've heard it, and it might not be all that original, but you'll be smiling and tapping your feet just the same.

Prince himself directed the show, which employs a nimble cast of nine performers who take turns sharing anecdotes and life lessons as 'Prince' and dipping into some of the hits (and flops - Merrily We Roll Along gets a number) he had a hand in. Some musicals are represented by one number, while others have multiple, the reasons for which remain unclear. Why only perform one number from Fiddler on the Roof (even if it's a robust 'If I Were a Rich Man' by Chuck Cooper) and three from A Little Night Music? Or four from Cabaret? Some of the transitions are aided by those wise words and interesting stories from Prince - like how he met first Stephen Sondheim - but others aren't, transitioning from one show to the next without any context.

Sugar, butter, flour - there are plenty of those ingredients, particularly the sweet stuff, in the musical Waitress, which opened Sunday night at Broadway's Brooks Atkinson Theatre. They mix in a refrain heard throughout the production, as well as the elaborate pies the show's heroine crafts. And much like those desserts, Waitress is a sweet slice of a show that shines with the help of a star ingredient: Tony winner Jessie Mueller.

It's Martin and Brickell's music that's the brightest star in Bright Star. The bluegrass sounds compliment the show's setting and era, Americana music with layered harmonies and beautiful use of banjo and fiddle. Not every song is a winner, but there are stirring ballads and toe-tapping numbers throughout that audience members will enjoy.

Levi and Benanti make a winning pair, even if their characters don't realize it until long after everyone else does. Her operatic voice soars in Amalia's most emotional moments, bringing depth to the character's naïveté and yearning for love, when she's wondering about her love interest in 'Will He Like Me?,' awaiting their starcrossed meeting, and, later, giddy over a certain someone bringing her vanilla ice cream. Levi's songs require less vocal theatrics but he manages them well, cranking up the charm throughout but most winningly in the show's title number, which has him bounding across the stage, jumping on benches, and cartwheeling with joy.

There are moments of great levity in this production - songs about matchmakers and raising your glass for a toast, among all the classics the show is known for - but its quieter moments were even greater standouts. There's a Sabbath prayer dotted with candle lights in Tevye's home and the houses beyond, the haunting 'Sunrise, Sunset' during a wedding scene, and wrenching goodbyes between father and daughters. And everything culminates in an end that harkens back to the show's beginning, when you'll see that red coat again, a reminder that people are still forced to leave behind the homes they love. B+