Joe Dziemianowicz — Theater Critic

With three Tonys on his shelf, Frank Langella knows his way around a Broadway stage. That includes when he's playing someone lost in the dark clouds of dementia...Written by rising-star French author Florian Zeller and translated by Christopher Hampton ('Les Liaisons Dangereuses'), this 90-minute play comes with 15 scenes and a compelling conceit. You must walk a mile in Andre's slippers to experience what it's like to lose your marbles. And you will...At its best, Zeller's writing is crisp, darkly humorous and emits a hushed Pinteresque chill. On the down side, the play is so sterile it sidesteps the mess that comes with mental deterioration...Doug Hughes' direction in the Manhattan Theatre Club staging also cuts both ways...Fortunately, though, Langella is forever intriguing.

Good things come to those who wait. Remember that. Because it takes a long time for Broadway's star-studded revival of Arthur Miller's 'The Crucible' to cast a spell. In the end, it does. The final 15 minutes of this play, set amid the Salem witch trials, are built to be shattering and heart-wrenching...Innovative Belgian director Ivo van Hove's staging wrings out every devastating drop of power. As for the preceding 135 minutes - not so much. The drama is packed with ideas about truth and power. But as played here, it's high on talk, but stubbornly low on impact. Most notably, marquee names - Soairse Ronan, Ben Whishaw and Sophie Okonedo - don't make deep impressions.

Steve Martin is famous for wild-and-crazy antics. But in his debut as a Broadway author and composer, he drops the arrow-through-the-head zaniness. He and co-writer Edie Brickell aim straight for the heart in a new musical about love, loss, family and forgiveness. Called 'Bright Star,' the show isn't a bullseye. But it's sweet and tender and boasts a fine cast...Martin and Brickell's bluegrassy score is mellow and pretty. But it's also repetitive -- melodically and lyrically...Director Walter Bobbie ('Chicago') and choreographer Josh Rhodes keep the show chugging along...Cusack, a Broadway rookie, consistently shines -- even when 'Bright Star' doesn't.

Broadway's bewitching new 'She Loves Me' is as sweet and exhilarating as a first kiss...There's very little that's confused about Scott Ellis' sparkling straight-up staging for the Roundabout. Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick's score packs yearning and humor as it caresses the ears and heart. The boutique and its colorful characters are brought to life beautifully...'She Loves Me' has its dark plot twists, but the star turns are all bright. Benanti...reminds that she can do anything, given her incandescent soprano and comic timing. The show lifts off when she sings 'Vanilla Ice Cream' and 'Will He Like Me?' Levi...brings good-looking boyish gusto to the catchy title song. Georg's exuberant cartwheel is a cherry on top.

Michelle Williams's girlish and haunted face is so eloquent in 'Blackbird,' you might wish you had binoculars for a closer look...Williams's Broadway debut, in 'Cabaret,' was so wispy she practically disappeared, but now she's commanding. She's believable and shattering as this damaged young woman. Daniels, ideally cast as an average guy-next-door, is her match. He convinces as a man on the edge, a shifty bird on a wire. The play itself isn't quite as successful...it takes time to settle into believable rhythms...Still, 'Blackbird' is taut, twisty and provocative. There's value in works that make your mind fly to uncomfortable places and send out cries you can't unhear.

It takes guts to call a Broadway show 'Disaster!' That's just asking for audiences to say that it lives up to its name. But this spoof of catastrophe-themed movies set on a floating casino and mixed with '70s pop hits is not a Titanic -- or a jackpot. The campy entertainment lands halfway between. In other words, it's not 'Hot Stuff'...It's Tepid Stuff. It's not sharp enough to be a toothy parody. Or consistently funny enough to be called hilarious. As is, creators Seth Rudetsky, who plays a scientist, and Jack Plotnick, who directs, have come up with something see-worthy but middle-of-the-road.

It takes guts to call a Broadway show 'Disaster!' That's just asking for audiences to say that it lives up to its name. But this spoof of catastrophe-themed movies set on a floating casino and mixed with '70s pop hits is not a Titanic -- or a jackpot. The campy entertainment lands halfway between. In other words, it's not 'Hot Stuff'...It's Tepid Stuff. It's not sharp enough to be a toothy parody. Or consistently funny enough to be called hilarious. As is, creators Seth Rudetsky, who plays a scientist, and Jack Plotnick, who directs, have come up with something see-worthy but middle-of-the-road.

It's a common lament that there are no good roles for women. But Danai Gurira, a playwright and actress known as Michonne on 'The Walking Dead,' has packed this harrowing, albeit sometimes heavy-handed, 2008 drama with five of them....Liesl Tommy's taut staging provides an excellent showcase for the play. The cast is uniformly very good and while performances have deepened and feel more lived-in uptown, there are still few moments - light and serious - when individuals tilt toward being overly showy, as though they're performing. Despite that, plus a few music miscues at a recent performance, the play is unsettling and eye-opening.

This 'Hughie' is hooey. It's not that Forest Whitaker's acting is bad in this high-profile revival. It's that this likeable Oscar winner is not doing any discernible acting to speak of...Whitaker...is simply reciting his lines rather than embodying Erie Smith...Whitaker offers was no connection or depth. That's a shame, since there's plenty to play as Erie, who's down on his luck and living on illusions...Director Michael Grandage...comes up short with a production that lacks high points...Christopher Oram's scenic design is an unqualified success...If you tire of Whitaker's disconnected talk, gaze at the faded tin ceiling or the broken elevator. They're subtle signs of former glory.

Playwright Stephen Karam takes this familiar, if shop-worn, dramatic framework and transforms it into a 95-minute work that is fresh, funny, piercing and perceptive...Karam has an eye for detail on a near-cellular level, an ear for authentic dialogue and a superlative ability to balance laughter and sorrow. There's a lot of both here...Joe Mantello's direction is smart and subtle, making excellent use of the bi-level stage. In an ensemble of all aces, a few actors stand out. Beck, a wonderful rising star, nails the hapless Aimee's black humor. Houdyshell tickles and stings as an undervalued wife and mother. Birney anchors everything as a middle-class Everyman terrified of losing what he loves.

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.