Joe Dziemianowicz — Theater Critic

No one does difficult moms like Linda Lavin...With signature style, wry wit and an irresistible glint in her eye, Lavin makes Anna Cantor, 'an average situational liar,' as she's called, a force to be reckoned with. Lavin can do that in her sleep. Even so, the play is a snooze...Greenberg writes sharp and smart dialogue. Lynne Meadow is an efficient director. The cast is fine, but can only do so much with a script that is undercooked and overwritten at the same time...The notion of how much we can ever truly know people in our lives is worth exploring. Who was she, indeed? But the question 'Brief Affair' leaves you with is 'What was that?' Ultimately, not enough to satisfy.

Broadway's fitfully funny 'Noises Off' reminds that it's tricky to perfectly bake this triple layer cake of a comedy. This production gets about it about halfway right -- so even with a soggy and slack final stretch, you're left grinning over the show's sly inner workings...Director Jeremy Herrin's staging features a number of Roundabout regulars not known for broad comedy, but David Furr, Jeremy Shamos, Tracee Chimo and Kate Jennings Grant step up. Martin, a comic ace, brings signature unhinged unpredictability -- a boon to any comedy. Daniel Davis, as wayward senior actor Selsdon, has a goofy demented look in his eyes. Megan Hilty lets it all hang out in pink lingerie and is terrific as a terrifically bad actress. Shining brightest is Rob McClure, who loads fun and finesse into the small role of an overtaxed prop manager and understudy, who shivers from stagefright like an overgrown Chihuahua.

Performances are very good, as is the lively dancing choreographed by Hofesh Schechter that taps tradition and some contemporary moves. But the curious scenery often gets in the show's way. It makes for a distracting, busy and slow-pokey production of a tightknit musical. As always, it ends on a strong note. Tevye's acknowledgment, 'God be with you,' to the disavowed Chava will change the shape of her life, her fathers' and everyone's. You'd have to be made of granite not to be moved to happiness and tears.

My heart has suddenly grown fonder for 'The Color Purple'...The shift from 'Who cares?' to 'Holy mackerel!' is partly due to a canny staging that squarely puts the focus on the rich score by Brenda Russell, Allee Willis and Stephen Bray. And my renewed excitement also comes from pitch-perfect casting of an unknown and an Academy Award winner in lead roles -- an eloquent echo of the central dynamic of Alice Walker's novel, adapted by playwright Marsha Norman. Cynthia Erivo, a Brit who's unknown in New York, is spectacular as the beleaguered Celie, who loses her innocence, self-esteem and all else thanks to men in her life...she sings with such clear, honest openness that you feel everything she's feeling -- and she feels a lot.

Director Laurence Connor's staging is inconsistent, but his young actors/musicians all kick axe. Brightman is huggable and kinetic and rocks steady as a slacker who saves the day. The actor lives up to his surname and earns his gold star. Better, gold devil horns. But he can't save a show that can't get out of its own way - or add much to the classic movie.

David Mamet said his new play, written for frequent muse, Al Pacino, would be 'better than oral sex.' Oral sex? 'China Doll' is not even better than oral surgery. At least for that sort of medical procedure you get painkillers. And it's not a complete waste of time and money. 'China Doll' - henceforth 'China Dud' - is both. Pacino is Mickey Ross, who's on his cellphone for three-quarters of the show. Not the stuff of great drama...Director Pam MacKinnon...makes only one discernible contribution. She signed off on one of the clumsiest, least convincing fights ever on stage...Pacino fails to make phone calls anything but drudgery. He lacks authority playing this millionaire and he doesn't get traction from his customary eccentricities. The trademark shrugs, hand gestures, wide eyes and that gravelly voice feel like the same old, same old.

As lovable as wise-cracking Bruce Willis was in 'Moonlighting' and the 'Die Hard' films, he is deadly dull in the stage version of Stephen King's novel. This big Hollywood star musters just enough emotion to stretch from A to B in his Broadway debut... 'Misery' reminds how hard it is to make a thriller click on stage, whether Annie is terrorizing Paul or contending with a nosey cop (Leon Addison Brown). When Annie gets her gun, it's a riot. Anyone who's seen the movie knows what's coming, but Metcalf largely hits her mark with her sledgehammer and her block of wood.

In a bright stroke, the director dreams up a wordless prologue. Eddie and coworker Alfieri (Michael Gould) wash up after a day on the docks. But the point of the drama is that nobody comes out clean. 'Whatever happened,' says Bea, 'we all done it.' Van Hove sees to it that everyone's dripping in guilt.

A storied 'Star Trek' helmsman can do only so much to make his first Broadway enterprise soar. George Takei, known as Mr. Sulu from the classic sci-fi series, does bring starry charisma and a galaxy of goodwill to 'Allegiance,' but the show is stuck on impulse power. Sam and Kei's grandfather (an endearing Takei) folds the questionnaire into a paper lotus that gets pinned behind Kei's ear. 'You're a woman who wears a political statement in her hair,' says Frankie. 'Allegiance' also wants to make a significant statement. But it's too tangled to say very much.

A paint-by-numbers portrait can still be colorful - and a kick. Case in point: 'On Your Feet!,' a predictable but entertaining show about Gloria Estefan and her music-producer husband Emilio. The jukebox musical checks off all the usual-suspect plot points: humble roots, showbiz hurdles, tragedy, triumph, plus a gratuitous dance concert as a chaser.

Pigott-Smith's vivid star turn anchors the production as the monarch-in-waiting who goes from nervous indecision to majestic might. 'King Charles III' is a fantasy, but the actor playing him is the real deal.

There's enough real water in 'Thérèse Raquin' to float a row boat, but not a drop of sexual tension. Without high heat and funky musk, this wannabe erotic thriller starring Keira Knightley is bloodless and all wet. Too bad. It makes for a dispiriting Broadway debut for Knightley...she never finds traction in this choppy adaptation. Helen Edmundson's script is filled with microscenes that start and stop without impact...Director Evan Cabnet relies on disembodied voices and eerie sounds effects to show the pair's haunted minds. Just in time for Halloween, 'Thérèse Raquin' and the A-list actress playing her have found themselves stranded in a corny spookhouse. Scary.

A.R. Gurney's whimsical but whippet-thin diversion, 'Sylvia,' is about marriage and midlife and how man's best friend can become a woman's worst enemy...It's just a cute and clever conceit. But not quite enough to sustain two hours. Director Daniel Sullivan has a light touch with his a tightknit ensemble, but the play is undercooked and overlong. Still, there are pleasures. Annaleigh Ashford ('Masters of Sex') makes an adorable talking stray mutt...she affirms her stature as a comic ace...Matthew Broderick gives his most assured performance in a long while as Greg, an unhappily employed middle-aged empty-nester who finds Syliva in the park and becomes obsessed.

'Dames at Sea' is a mid-1960s musical trifle that works overtime to be cheeky good fun. Thanks to a cast with twinkle-toes and polished pipes, it succeeds -- for a while. Before long, though, monotony sets in and won't go away. Even top-notch tap-dancing can get repetitive...Now on Broadway for the first time, in this revival choreographed and directed by Randy Skinner, the cast is still small but the production values are beefed up. In some ways, this 'Dames at Sea' mirrors what it's lampooning, so it's neither fish nor fowl. Put another way, 'Dames at Sea' doesn't make a big splash or sink. It treads water.

There are six aces in the bang-up Broadway revival of 'The Gin Game.' Four of them are in deck of cards used in the play. The other two are Cicely Tyson and James Earl Jones, stage vets whose performances are so natural and thoughtful that it's like watching a couple of seniors eking out their lives, not actors filling out roles...It's not exactly subtle...But the play is satisfying for its own element of surprise. It's not a sunny one-dimensional portrait of codgers in their twilight. The story doesn't shy from harsh truths about getting old and get increasingly dark as Weller's short fuse and instability seals his fate. Under Leonard Foglia's direction, Tyson and Jones hit all the right notes of charming, amusing, ornery and scary.

Sam Rockwell has earned a reputation for bringing a whiff of weirdness and explosive emotion to his roles. He delivers the goods -- and so does costar Nina Arianda -- in Broadway's combustible revival of 'Fool for Love'...Daniel Aukin directs a well-paced production and guides the cast to juicy performances. Arianda, ever fascinating, turns on a dime from light to dark. Her May is sad, sexy and desperate. Rockwell's Eddie is seductive, scary and impressive with a lasso...In short order, she slips free of the rope. Catch and release is the story of their lives -- forever. They'd be fools to believe otherwise.

The late, great Harold Pinter installed wall-to-wall ambiguity in his 1971 memory play 'Old Times.' So it's remarkable when a flash of clarity comes in the Roundabout's stylized revival...Hodge, a Tony-winning actor, adds his own abstractions...The pleasures of the production come from watching three excellent actors...confidently wind through the words, pauses and poses. Owen ('The Knick') works his craggy good looks and is alternately rogueish and vulnerable. Reilly ('True Detective') looks the picture of pretty melancholy with her perennially pursed lips, but eventually reveals a sharp tongue. Best, a two-time Tony nominee who recalls a creamsicle with cleavage in her off-white jumpsuit, and lends sexiness, glamour and humor.

The show combines hearing and non-hearing actors who use American Sign Language. Some roles are played by two actors - one who sings and speaks, one who signs. Many in the cast do both at once. The result: Lines and lyrics look as poetic and provocative as they sound.

With 'Hamilton,' Broadway is officially the coolest place on the planet. And the smartest. And most exhilarating...It's even richer and more eloquent since its run earlier this year at the Public Theater...Hip hop is one flavor of the score. It's as if the speechmaking Founding Fathers are in the next room. And it's a deft way to depict the often-fractious relationships between these competitive 18th-century power players...But to call this a 'hip hop musical' is simplistic: rhythm and blues, jazz and Broadway are also part of a work that nods to Rodgers and Hammerstein, Gilbert and Sullivan and beyond. Since the Off-Broadway run, performances have all deepened, including Miranda's. He better conveys Hamilton's cockiness, contrition and all-too-human flaws. The charismatic Daveed Diggs aces his roles and lends laughs as Thomas Jefferson and the French general Lafayette. Jonathan Groff (HBO's 'Looking') is the picture of pouty petulance as King George III, who appears now and again to warble a Brit-pop tune of vengeance, venom and venality...The breathtaking Renee Elise Goldsberry brings grit and grace as the indomitable Angelica, Hamilton's confidante. As Eliza, the lovely Phillipa Soo captivates with her pure, sweet singing as Hamilton's devoted-despite-everything wife...If only every history lesson -- and Broadway musical -- dazzled so completely.

this earnest but plodding musical by Broadway newcomers needs lifelines of its own...The jumbled book, a joint effort by Smith and playwright Arthur Giron, is another issue. The creators have good instincts about a story worth telling. But their reach exceeds their grasp. Songs by Christopher Smith are serviceable but lack significance and surprise. You can hear the boilerplate lyrics coming a mile away. Even the potential power ballads don't have the structure to make an impact...the production self-sabotages with mood shifts...'Amazing Grace' has come to Broadway. But it still hasn't found its way.

With all that potential, 'Highway' is a road to nowhere that's potholed with contrived storytelling and characters from Central Casting. The only part of this long, meandering byway you'll want to use is the exit ramp. Blame two companies: Manhattan Theatre Club and Chicago's Steppenwolf Theatre, where the show ran earlier this year. Yes, 'Airline Highway' is a nod to affectionate and human group portraits of everyday lives, such as Lanford Wilson's 'The Hot l Baltimore,' but D'Amour's tale of modern-day, down-and-out New Orleans is missing a clear point and satisfying takeaway.

Revenge is a dish served tepid in 'The Visit.' The warmth hobbles this stark musical fable by John Kander, Fred Ebb and Terrence McNally. With this team, the show is certainly worthwhile. But it could really send shivers -- and doesn't. 'The Visit' pulls its punches...The score echoes earlier rhythms and melodies of Kander and Ebb and provides an evocative backdrop. Rivera's husky voice and high-watt charisma go a long way here. And it would have worked even better if director John Doyle's staging was less polite. Scott Pask's skeletal set and Ann Hould-Ward's raggedy clothes scream decay. But the performances don't go there...Wildcat? No. Claire and 'The Visit' are too domesticated for their own good.

The show is the brainchild of Broadway rookies...who wrote the breezy, hummable score that goes down easy from the start...Karey and John O'Farrell wrote the book, which, fittingly, reminds us that all the world's a stage...Even if you don't get every allusion, the staging by choreographer and director Casey Nicholaw...is consistently fun. And the formula works -- mostly. Some tunes and dance pieces recur. So laughs dry up as 'Something Rotten!' becomes a deju vu-sical...The cast is another big plus...John Cariani is solid as Nick's brother...Christian Borle...brings Jagger-like swagger to his plum role of Shakespeare...And as Nick, a guy who makes bad choices, James makes all the right moves, sings with panache and tap dances, too. He's a charmer who makes it look easy. When all is said and sung, James is something outstanding -- the show's living exclamation point.

Broadway's 'Doctor Zhivago' is an epic miss...this miscalibrated musical is yet another attempt to bottle page-to-stage lightning a la 'Les Miserables.' But electricity doesn't zap...The score by composer Lucy Simon and lyricists Michael Korie and Amy Powers resonates with occasional Russian-inflected melodies and lots of ardent power ballads. Respectable, but unremarkable, songs hang like wallpaper...Des McAnuff's direction is another issue...he fails to convey what matters most -- intimacy...We do understand that they're separated by revolution...We don't get enough of what's fueling their passion. Or why his writing is so important...As Yuri, London stage star Tam Mutu sings with a manly ardor and has a cleft chin deep as the Volga River. As the staunch Lara, Kelli Barrett's vocals are bright and clear. They're likable together but no fire. Without the inferno, the 'Doctor' remains in guarded condition.

Mixed-up romantic couples and larger-than-life eccentrics are meant to ignite bright comic fireworks. But too many lame jokes and broad-as-a-barn performances extinguish any chance of that, in a production directed by Kathleen Marshall. I laughed twice. One good moment came from Fleming, who's not half bad in her Broadway debut. 'How much longer can I play the young virgin?' middle-aged Raquel asks. 'Ten, twenty years?'...That's not much for two hours at Broadway prices. But at this point, there's nothing anyone can do about it.