Joe Dziemianowicz — Theater Critic

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.

You can't say John Guare's new play 'A Free Man of Color' isn't ambitious in scope or awash in extravagant eye candy. Or that the huge cast of 33 isn't fully committed. But unfortunately that doesn't add up to a satisfying evening.

Meant to be the season's big happy hummable holiday event, the show never gets there; it feels unfinished and unready for New York. Director-choreographer Casey Nicholaw's resolutely middling production didn't have a regional tryout, but it could be a touring company that shuffled into town.

Language is always key when it comes to the Bard. But Sullivan's excellent production finds eloquence between the lines, too, in two silent scenes. One imagines Shylock's conversion to Christianity as an act of brutal violence. The other is a final tableau of Jessica, seated at water's edge, and Portia, again, in a tower but not camera-ready as she considers her life. The uncertainty etched on their faces speaks says it all; things won't be picture perfect.

If there's a compelling reason for 'The Pee-wee Herman Show' to be on Broadway beyond delivering its gleeful dash of sunny but slightly subversive fun, it's to remind us that things can stay the same in our hearts and heads.

But cramming a couple of thousand years of material into a one-act is no mean feat. He tends to rush, trailing off before he finishes thoughts and sentences. Otherwise, it's a polished act. And with Broadway prices for an act that's just an hour and change, it should be.

The show-stealing performance comes from a laugh-out-loud Laura Benanti, as Candela, a model who's accidentally hooked up with Madrid's most-wanted terrorist. She turns 'Model Behavor,' a song made up of ever more desperate phone calls to Pepa, into a delirious jolt of joy.

'Scottsboro Boys' isn't perfect, but it's worthwhile. It deserves credit for tackling a slice of history that needs to be known.

It's also proof of the Beatles' enduring, generation-crossing cool. In a canny move, 'Rain' showers attention on that fact. Every age group got an appreciative mention, from boomers raised on the Beatles to teens just discovering the group is something to twist and shout about.

At just 90 minutes, 'Driving Miss Daisy' is a theatrical spin around the block - a pleasantly starlit but unchallenging trip down memory lane.

Though many scenes are static, director Thomas Kail ('In the Heights') scores points with his audience-friendly staging for this in-the-round theater. The production's touchdown comes when Lombardi drills the Pack on the power sweep, the play that helped make them unbeatable. As X's and O's rush across the bare stage and give way to images of players in green and gold, the play at last comes to life. It's the sort of winning moment Lombardi would expect - and that this show needs more of.

While the new production, direct from London, can't keep the play from being a windy enterprise, it succeeds in making it ever accessible and wildly funny. Credit a crack director, Matthew Warchus, an ace cast and appealing design work.

If you're looking for a tidy and traditional show, or an irony-free slice of history, this new take on Old Hickory isn't it. But for something lightweight, fresh and fun, 'Andrew Jackson' is worth the Benjamins.

Though it's called 'A Life in the Theatre,' it can be difficult to detect any vital signs in the sluggish Broadway revival of David Mamet's 1977 comedy.

Seven months later, Donald Margulies' play is back in fine form, now at the Cort Theatre with Christina Ricci. The film actress known for edgy work in 'Monster' and 'The Opposite of Sex' proves herself delightfully natural on stage playing a young woman who tends to look on the bright side.

With its sharp and witty observations about sex and class, freedom and oppression, and mothers and daughters, there's plenty to recommend in George Bernard Shaw's 'Mrs. Warren's Profession.' As for the Roundabout's revival of the 1893 play directed by Doug Hughes, not quite so much -- despite catnip casting of Cherry Jones in the title role of Kitty Warren. She's the low-born enterpriser who uses prostitution to ensure her Cambridge-educated daughter, Vivie, independence in late Victorian England.

There are uniformly stellar performances from the terrific cast, who reprise roles for Manhattan Theatre Club that they played in 2007 in Newcastle and a subsequent run at London's National Theatre. Director Max Roberts' assured staging is crisp and clean, with noisy blackouts that are reminders of the men's dangerous, backbreaking jobs. Large projections of their paintings used throughout the 2¼-hour production smartly underscore the transformative and expansive nature of art in any life.