Joe Dziemianowicz

No one could expect director Eric Schaeffer, a veteran of several Sondheim shows, to fix inherent issues - a momentumless narrative and soapy dialogue. But more originality in his approach, conceptually and design-wise (black drapes - really?), could have helped make a standard-issue show a truly distinctive one.

Terrence McNally's brusque and brilliant rendering of Callas is the sort of meaty role actresses love to sink teeth and claws into. Zoe Caldwell won a Tony originating the role. Dixie Carter and Patti LuPone assumed the part in that run. Now it's Tyne Daly's star turn. Dressed in chic black pants suit and scarf, she cuts a glamorous image far from her 'Cagney and Lacey' cop days. Ditto from her grasping Momma Rose in 'Gypsy.' Daly's sturdy-looking singer isn't exactly the picture of the svelte jet-setter Callas was in 1971, and the actress' skittering accent sometimes visits France, Germany and beyond. No matter. The portrait is complicated and charismatic.

Emerging from all that tangled drama, Spidey 2.0 is more cohesive, streamlined and funnier than before, and its thrills are still intact - though it is still weighed down by so-so songs. 'Spider-Man' isn't a great, gourmet meal, but it's a tasty diversion.

The music by Mike Stoller, known for 'Smokey Joe's Cafe,' and Artie Butler, famous for hits like 'Here's to Life,' constantly shifts gears between Yiddish music-hall pastiche and contemporary Broadway pop. Because melodies and motifs rarely, if ever, overlap, the spell cast by the show is constantly broken.

Back then, 'The Normal Heart' was a raging, wailing wakeup call. Now it's a look back, a period piece. But one with the power to make you wince and weep.

There's never a dull moment in director David Cromer's entertaining staging, but that's not the same as being completely satisfying. A wild and crazy work cries out for extremes, and this starry production at the Walter Kerr is too tame and emotionally mellow for its own good. Stiller, who played Ronnie in its 1986 Broadway run, gets to show talents he doesn't typically display on film. He plays piano and sings impressively while crooning his character's cornball tunes.

The show opened Wednesday night at the Broadhurst and boasts nearly three dozen hit songs. Among them, 'I Met Him on a Sunday,' 'He's So Fine,' 'Dedicated to the One I Love' and 'Walk on By.' The title of that last hit is my advice for this production, considering that the songs are so blandly performed they don't make an impression.

That's what I call a rebirth. A new face has breathed fresh life into 'Born Yesterday' at the Cort Theatre. Not that Garson Kanin's 1946 comedy was even a little tired. It is as deliciously witty and pungent as when it was born. But it takes a special actress in the key role of Billie Dawn - the dumb blond who outsmarts her junk-dealer tycoon boyfriend - to make the play more than funny and to make you fall in love. With the knockout newcomer Nina Arianda center stage, be prepared to fall hard, fast and completely. If you missed her last year as a dominatrix downtown in 'Venus in Fur,' you probably don't know her work.

But the play, which runs more than three hours, yields diminishing returns. The plot goes in circles and collapses during a contrived meeting between Johnny and Marky. Fortunately, Rylance keeps you from tuning out. He won the 2008 Tony for his hilarious clowning in 'Boeing-Boeing,' and in 'La Bete' earlier this season, he was sheer delight as a buffoonish actor. As Johnny, a cross between the Pied Piper and Fagan, he does everything he can, including handstands, to create a vivid and ultimately touching portrait of a magnetic maniac. Johnny's stories of giants may be nonsense, but there's no denying that Rylance wows you with performances that are larger than life.

A blessed event has landed on Broadway. 'Sister Act,' which opened last night, is a feel-good crowd-pleaser worth celebrating. Here are 10 reasons to sing its praises…

Played by Kathleen Turner, Sister Jamison is a recovering alcoholic who curses like a sailor and bows to no one - sometimes not even God. Her full portrait slowly comes into focus as the action unfolds in director Rob Ruggiero's bare-bones staging.

Something resembling a plot doesn't arrive until late in Act I, as Alice's journey clarifies. It's about reclaiming deferred joy and the powers of dreams and self-invention lost and locked inside her. It's like a John Mayer song: your body - and mind - is a Wonderland. Performances are a mixed bag. Ritchie brings breezy zest to Jack, while young Sonenclar impresses with a remarkably mature voice she sometimes overworks 'American Idol'-style. Swallowed up by her cubist playing-card costume, Mason could be funnier as the royal. The big-lunged Shindle appears stiff as the villainous Mad Hatter, but the role is written that way. Dacal ('In the Heights') displays a pretty voice and presence in her star turn. Alice's best number is her opening duet with Chloe, 'Worst Day of My Life.' It comes before they hit the rabbit hole. It is, alas, downward from there.

Melodramatic? Yes. Sentimental? Sure. And the characters and dialogue are etched in clean, if broad, strokes. But narrative thinness and contrived twists (there are some) are offset by the sheer scope of the production and the achievements of the South African puppet company Handspring.

Cannavale's work is outstanding. With veins popping in his neck and a body language of tics and anxieties, he stunningly conveys a man fighting demons within and without; one day at a time never looked so daunting.It would seem that the X-rated- ranting Ralph D. would make a good fit for Rock, but it works against him. Rock gives the character a good shot, but when he delivers Ralph D.'s lines in his trademark grunts and high-pitched voice, it's too close to what's become his own comic specialty. He not only draws unintentional laughs, but some audience members spoke back to him. Goes to show - sometimes, it's fame that's a 'Motherf-.'

The show has wonderful moments, but issues abound. McNally's overstuffed story jockeys unsteadily between hijinks and serious drama. With Frank's story, the FBI agent's story and Frank's girlfriend's family's story, it's just too much. Shaiman and Wittman's score shows polish and style. 'Butter Out of Cream' smoothly states Frank's life motto, while 'Don't Be a Stranger' is a moody backdrop for a glamorous dance. But '(Our) Family Tree' and 'Doctor's Orders' could've been cut and never missed.

The new production of the Cole Porter classic 'Anything Goes' sailed onto Broadway last night, and it's as cool and intoxicating as a fresh ocean breeze. Credit two bright talents for such a snazzy, jazzy affair: Sutton Foster, who stars as the saucy singing evangelist Reno Sweeney, and director-choreographer Kathleen Marshall, who's at the helm of this buoyantly dance-happy production.

And despite all the ghosts, 'Bengal Tiger' isn't as stirring as it strives to be. It restates a famous 1960s war poster that noted: 'War is not healthy for children and other living things.' Like soldiers, gardeners and tigers.

Making his first foray into musical comedy and stepping into a part made famous by Robert Morse, Radcliffe is a likable but very boyish presence. He shows off a pleasant singing voice as corporate climber J. Pierrepont Finch, but he's waxen and not animated enough to make Finch soar. His take on his character's personal pep talk, 'I Believe in You,' emerges dispiriting. Still, director-choreographer Rob Ashford's production is bright, cheerful and energetic, that's for sure. But at times its supersized mentality and occasionally garish qualities compete with the sleek and sophisticated brilliance of the material.

It's a show where you catch yourself laughing one minute, mouth agape the next, eventually wiping away tears, and, finally, cheering. Stone and Parker are famous for their take-no-prisoners, nothing-is-sacred approach to humor. And Lopez knows about thumbing his nose at contemporary conventions. They all share credit for the book, music and lyrics. Silly, soulful and (no surprise with these guys) seriously rude, the score is consistently chipper and clever and keeps the pages in this 'Book' turning smoothly.

Leguizamo's new play throbs with big laughs and deep poignancy, as well as the infectious Latin beat and manic energy that's become his signature. But it becomes clear that there's a limit to how many times you can go to the same well.

Throughout 'Priscilla,' the three leads don't look male or female but like bizarre aliens. Call me a party pooper, but that was enough to make this supposed frolic a drag.

On the plus side, Williams brings believability and ample humor to her role, and Riley is perfection. He provides a calm and steady-beating heart, while at the same time hinting at the heat burning below Septimus' cool surface. Less successful is Powley, who has a high-pitched voice that cuts like a serrated knife and obscures her lines. Margaret Colin, as her landscape-obsessed mother, tends to swallow words, too.

Jason Patric (the late author's son), who got soused on Broadway when he played Brick in 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,' hits the bottle again as Sutherland's alcoholic brother. With his eyes permanently squinty and voice filled with silky cynicism, he throws himself into the role — and down the stairs at one point. Patric is well-cast as a former teenage god who's gone to seed, and is the MVP when it comes to giving an interesting performance.

Lindsay-Abaire muddies things with late reveals that make you wonder if, to use Margie's favorite phrase, she or Mike are 'good people.' You'll change your mind and then change it again on both of them.

'The Importance of Being Earnest' turns 116 next month, and the old joker is surprisingly spry. Though the new Broadway revival of Oscar Wilde's satire isn't quite a nonstop delight -- it takes too long to rev up -- it makes for an enjoyable evening.