Joe Dziemianowicz

With 'Torch Song Trilogy,' 'La Cage aux Folles' and 'Kinky Boots' to his credit, playwright Harvey Fierstein knows a thing or three about the fluidity of gender, identity and sexuality -- and about men raiding women's closets. His fact-inspired story -- directed with sensitivity and style by Joe Mantello -- unfolds at a Catskills bungalow colony that caters to heterosexual transvestites. Very niche.

Transformation is tricky, sometimes even painful. But Broadway's sensational 'Hedwig and the Angry Inch' starring a kick-ass Neil Patrick Harris is a reminder that change doesn't have to hurt. John Cameron Mitchell and Stephen Trask's raucous pop-rock musical -- a show with proudly ratty downtown roots and rabid fans -- survives and thrives uptown. Allegories are elastic, after all. And, yes, this frisky, unapologetically raunchy fable of love, loss, fury and freedom is flashier on the Great White Way thanks to director Michael Mayer's gleaming production...Lean and mean NPH throws himself into the role and against the walls with reckless flip-your-wig and in-your-face abandonment. And he summons the wounded spirit and sense of yearning to which everyone can relate. That carries us along and makes us care for this odd character.

There's a compelling and worthwhile story out there about an age-addled woman's battle to live out her life in her own home. 'The Velocity of Autumn' isn't it. Toggling between glib one-liners and florid speeches, Eric Coble's two-hander adds nada to this topical conversation, along the way wasting a meaty subject, the talents of Estelle Parsons and Stephen Spinella and the audience's time and money...The inevitable conclusion is supposed to show how explosive life can turn. But the story presents life in such broad strokes and black and white that there's nothing at stake.

[Foster] sings, 'I am on my way.' Buckle your seatbelts, folks. So are you. And what a wonderful trip it is...Songs by composer Jeanine Tesori and lyricist Brian Crawley add dimensions and textures, too. Summoning country-fried rhythms, gospel glory, bittersweet ballads and tender lullabies, the score is a rich and beautiful thing. Well-integrated too. Numbers make perfect sense and fuel characters and the plot like high-test gasoline...This journey unfolds a half-century ago, but you don't have to look far to see that the idea that life can change dramatically and devastatingly in a flash. What you do next becomes the question - and it makes this Violet evergreen.

Ace storyteller McDonagh ('The Pillowman,' 'The Lieutenant of Inishmore') makes these folksy characters' behavior and conversations churn with wicked laughter and wise insights. Like most fables, things darken as truths and lessons emerge - like the one about how people who love and help us also hurt us. Better yet, there's the one about how a journey to a far-away place leaves you flat and a kiss from a local girl gives you a reason for living. Now if only fate would cooperate. Through it all Radcliffe tightly hugs the curves of the spirited Billy's journey. He vividly captures the melancholy, determination and, all too fleetingly, his joy.

Even though 'Act One' could use pruning, there's something missing: It never reveals what made Hart special. Story structure? Colorful characters? Snappy dialogue? The basic fact should be the starting point, but it's missing in action here.

Steinbeck's story isn't exactly subtle. Director Anna D. Shapiro ('August: Osage County') packs shading and meaning into an evocative production in which danger lurks everywhere...Shapiro's ace cast grips, too, but not terrifyingly...O'Dowd ('Bridesmaids') is such a likable and endearing actor that he automatically brings goodwill to a role. The Broadway rookie's thoughtful performance as the loud, clumsy and sweet overgrown child creates a sense of imminent catastrophe. As George, who's torn between protectiveness and outrage, Franco's confident, straightforward, no-frills performance works just right. He can do a lot with a look.

The much-decorated McDonald - five Tonys and counting - evokes the tough steel and rough velvet of Holiday's singing with uncanny precision. But this isn't about mimicry. It's about the heart and soul, bruised and battered, that comes through. Audra McDonald channels Billie Holiday in Lady Day at Emerson's Bar & Grill. This is McDonald at her most intimate. Director Lonny Price has Holiday roam the audience bumming cigarettes and drinks. The play is the story of a women whose gift was her voice. The final moment - in dead silence - is shattering. Ooh, ooh, ooh, indeed.

It's too bad that the comedy about a playwriting hit man is a bit of a miss. On the plus side, director and choreographer Susan Stroman's dance numbers pack sure-footed pizzazz. And the good-looking production depicts 1929 New York with wit and grace notes...But working in tandem with Allen, who adapted the screenplay of his Oscar-winning 1994 comedy while dealing with anything-but-amusing personal issues, Stroman doesn't match the zany, out-of-this-world wow factor of her collaboration with Mel Brooks on 'The Producers'...Allen's showbiz and gangland eccentrics stiffen into cardboard when they're amplified from two to three dimensions. A sense of nuance and ahumanity goes missing. It doesn't help that key actors shoot blanks, including Zach Braff, of 'Scrubs' fme, and Helene Yorke, of 'Masters of Sex.' Both need infusions of charm for their roles as a morally iffy writer and the tootsie ruining his play.

It's funny how trying to connect with neighbors, spouses, God, whomever, can lead you nowhere. Will Eno takes that idea and runs with it in 'The Realistic Joneses,' an anxious comedy that packs rueful zingers, four first-rate starry performances and - buzzkill time, kids - diminishing returns for the entire second half...Under Sam Gold's tight direction, the cast is natural and convincing. But three-quarters of an hour into the 95-minute show, the script simply circles without deepening, darkening or clarifying...But in 'Realistic Joneses,' his Broadway debut, the engine remains stuck in second. Keeping up with these Joneses quickly loses its appeal.

Denzel Washington's popularity makes the revival of 'A Raisin in the Sun' a hot ticket, but there's a better reason: He and the show are flat-out excellent. Reprising Sidney Poitier's role, Washington is stunning as the dreamer-schemer Walter Lee Younger, whose frustration throbs at the heart of an American classic that is as deeply humorous as it is affecting. The Oscar and Tony winner squeezes this juicy role with all his might, yet also melds seamlessly with his fellow actors...Guided by director Kenny Leon, performances are natural and lived-in, giving the audience the feeling that they're overhearing private conversations. But listening -- and really heeding -- is the point.

As advertised, 'If/Then' unfolds at the crossroad of 'choice and chance.' Problem is, that intersection is around the corner from banality and been-there-heard-this-before. If Menzel wasn't around with her big belt and mellow warmth, there would be no reason to visit at all.

In the opening moments of 'Mothers and Sons,' Cal and Katharine stare out a window of his comfortably lived-in Central Park West apartment. It's the only instance these two people will share the same view - on anything - in veteran Tony winner Terrence McNally's sincere but frustrating drama about family and fear.

..what's really outstanding about Broadway's mixed-bag reboot of 'Les Miserables' comes when the show is at its leanest and most minimal: one man, one voice, one prayer. That signature, goosebump-raising moment now features London stage vet and Broadway rookie Ramin Karimloo, who plays the fugitive convict Jean Valjean. When he sings 'Bring Him Home,' the heaven-sent octave-leaping plea for mercy, his purity and hushed fervor lifts the production to a higher level...On the downside, the staging and performances are hit-and-miss. Tag-team directors Laurence Connor and James Powell make the mournful 'Empty Chairs at Empty Tables' pierce the heart with a candlelit eloquence. Too bad they push the scheming innkeepers - played by Cliff Saunders and Keala Settle - to such grotesque, and boring, levels...As the reluctant prostitute Fantine, Caissie Levy soldiers through the iconic 'I Dreamed a Dream' with a straight-up determination. Nikki M. James inspires empathy as Eponine, and Samantha Hill hits the right notes as the delicate Cosette

While burning through wishes, you should ask for the musical to have a lot more heart. The absence is glaring, given that Disney excels at tugging at tickers and then making them melt. But this show seldom moves you. The title character's yearning ballad, 'Proud of Your Boy,' sung to his long-gone mom, isn't enough to make this anything better than a Bedouin 'Beauty and the Beast' - a cartoon on stage.

It makes sense to maintain what worked on film, but unlike the Broadway adaptation of 'Once,' the musical version doesn't ultimately transcend the movie. The score by Stephen Flaherty (music) and Lynn Ahrens (lyrics), the Tony-winning 'Ragtime' team, doesn't help that much. Songs are efficient, not memorable, as they channel contemporary pop, feelings-on-sleeve ballads and soulful and bouncy R&B. New numbers are complemented by the iconic 'Eye of the Tiger,' which loses something moving from film to stage.

Hot off a prize-winning streak on 'Breaking Bad,' Bryan Cranston drives this star vehicle covering LBJ's turbulent first year in the top job with an uncanny authority and confidence rare in first time Broadway performers. The actor is at the height of his power playing a commander-in-chief striving to harness his own. Cranston, who turns 58 Friday, is fiery, ferocious, scary and, quite often very funny as the President who struggles in 1964 to validate his 'accidental' rise while also ensuring re-election. Getting the Civil Rights Act of 1964 is key to achieving both - but the clock is ticking and the ranks of opponents are growing...It's also longwinded as it checks off 1964 talking points - MLK's infidelity, FBI spying, three young men killed in Mississippi, Democratic National Convention gamesmanship and more. But when it's at its best, 'All the Way' shows the wide division between parties and players in D.C. then - and now.

The equilibrium and mood return when the lovers are center stage. The Irish O'Hara evokes Naples with a dark wig and a convincing Italian accent. She gives a performance of rare and radiant grace. Pasquale, who starred with O'Hara last year Off-Broadway in the misfire 'Far From Heaven,' has the rugged good looks made for the part. He matches her moment by moment with his virile vocals.Like the story's brief but enduring romance, 'Bridges of Madison County' and its blissfully beautiful score and shimmering star turns stay with you well after the last lovely notes fade.

Devout Yankee fans may get misty at the sight of the beloved Iron Horse, bedeviled by amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, meeting today's Mr. Nice Guy Derek Jeter. But the scene is more sugary than the Cracker Jack served in the upper deck. And manipulative music seemingly recruited from 'The Natural' seeks to tug heartstrings. When all is said and done, 'Bronx Bombers' is too feel-good and fawning for its own good.

Like his Oscar-winning screenplay for 'Moonstruck,' the play is a valentine to the wonder and weirdness of love. Instead of Cher shouting, 'Snap out of it!,' Debra Messing calls the shots - and with an Irish brogue.

Hall, known for films like 'The Town' and 'Iron Man 3,' hides her beauty and plummy English accent as Helen. She's sturdy at some times, singsong in others. Hall's stature and height allow her to strike a physical presence, but when it comes to Helen's freeform monologues, she's emotionally empty. 'Machinal' doesn't elicit strong reaction - but it's well served by the world and well-oiled machine created by Turner.

Even if you haven't memorized the King songbook, you will leave the Stephen Sondheim Theatre humming. Too bad a great musical isn't only about the music. The book is crucial, too - and this show's connect-the-dots story line is so simplistic that the extravagantly talented King's life emerges as a mundane version of the long-suffering little woman.

Even if you haven't memorized the King songbook, you will leave the Stephen Sondheim Theatre humming. Too bad a great musical isn't only about the music. The book is crucial, too - and this show's connect-the-dots story line is so simplistic that the extravagantly talented King's life emerges as a mundane version of the long-suffering little woman.

“Nothing to be done,” says Estragon. That goes for getting stood up, painful shoes, life and death — or this show’s exaggerated goofy takes on Pozzo (Hensley) and his servile Lucky (Crudup, a dead ringer for Riff Raff from “Rocky Horror”). Attention goes slack as a result. Fortunately the stars grip tight. Stewart is hearty and game. McKellen, even better, is hilarious and heartbreaking. It’s a fine bromance — Broadway is lucky to have it.

The whisky flows, served neat. The conversation, like the wall, is curvy. It’s unclear if Hirst and Spooner really know each other from university. Also uncertain: Did Hirst, as he blithely recalls, bed Spooner’s girl? McKellen’s silent slow-burn response speaks volumes. He’s got one of the most expressive faces, voices and command of body language on the planet. Stewart gets Hirst’s imperiousness and vulnerability just right.