Johnny Oleksinski — Theater Critic

Immediately we realize that Groban is not the menacing, feral Todd that Len Cariou and Michael Cerveris were, but a calmer chap with an ax to grind. This choice cuts both ways. Sweeney is more human, yes, but some scenes lack intensity. His song “Epiphany” — in which he declares, “They all deserve to die!” — isn’t as scary as it should be. Still, Groban is as well-sung a Sweeney as you’ll find.

Immediately we realize that Groban is not the menacing, feral Todd that Len Cariou and Michael Cerveris were, but a calmer chap with an ax to grind. This choice cuts both ways. Sweeney is more human, yes, but some scenes lack intensity. His song “Epiphany” — in which he declares, “They all deserve to die!” — isn’t as scary as it should be. Still, Groban is as well-sung a Sweeney as you’ll find.

It’s a mess with multiple personality disorder. From start to finish during this perplexing and often dull fairytale spin — and, oh, does it spin — you’re never entirely sure what you’re watching or why you’re watching it.

Brown’s finest music, and Platt’s most heart-wrenching work, come during his trial, as three factory girls (who have been coached to lie) hauntingly harmonize their testimony like Abigail from “The Crucible.” Brown has yet to top it in any show. When Leo gives his statement, and Platt sings that his character is unemotional and awkward but innocent, it’s the tears-free opposite of when he sobbed at the end of “Dear Evan Hansen,” but the gut-punch is the same. The second act has more built-in structural issues, as Lucille works tirelessly to appeal her husband’s verdict and enlists the help of Governor Slaton (Sean Allan Krill) to get Leo home. A galvanizing number is followed by minutes of aimless procedural wading. But there are few sublime moments. As another factory worker, and suspect, Jim Conley, Alex Joseph Grayson wails the song “Feel the Rain Fall,” which is gorgeous but pops up out of nowhere. And Diamond, whose combination of fragility and power is thrilling for an actress so young, brings an electricity to her duets with Platt: “This Is Not Over Yet” and the romantic “All the Wasted Time,” which fades into the musical’s devastating conclusion.

Usually stripping a play down to the bare essentials — simple costumes, a few chairs — renders it rawer and more authentic. Not so in the uneven revival of “A Doll’s House,” starring Oscar winner Jessica Chastain, that opened Thursday night on Broadway. Despite an absorbing performance from the “Eyes of Tammy Faye” actress, British director Jamie Lloyd’s staging is as sterile as an operating room.

“Pictures,” directed by Bartlett Sher as an afterthought, is not really a play at all, so much as one guy’s musings about the middle class. It’s a drama-free paraphrase of Sultan’s essays punctuated by Nathan Lane and Zoe Wanamaker, as Irving and Jean respectively, wisecracking about being old. When you occasionally laugh at their jokes, you briefly forget that you’re bored.

However, it’s Henderson who shakes the stage. The wonderful actor, who’s been a regular for years in plays by August Wilson and Lorraine Hansberry and in films as far-removed as “Lady Bird” and “Dune,” gives the performance of his career and the Broadway season. He makes the complicated Walter a millions things at once — adorable, frightening, calculating, indifferent, reserved, commanding, a stand-up comic, a boozer — that combine into one indomitable theatrical force. It’s not the sort of showy, speechifying role that we usually laud out of habit. Often, Walter simply watches on. But as played by Henderson, he’s a man you won’t soon forget.

Has “Merrily” finally been fixed? Not really, and it never will be. But its storied problems have not only become part of its lore, but also a messy asset in our dismal era of mechanical, assembly-line musicals produced by movie studios. “Merrily” is an affecting oddball that hits you hard emotionally, even when it creatively misses. Here’s to it. What’s like it? Damn few.

I’ve heard “Some Like It Hot” described a lot as an “old-fashioned musical comedy.” And, yes, it sure feels old. But the shows that those folks are referencing, and that this musical aspires to be — “Guys and Dolls,” “The Music Man,” “Anything Goes” — sparked with innovation in their time (and, ya know, had strong scores and books). Unlike “Some,” they were hot.

McDonald is an actress who radiates optimism and smiles often. And that positivity makes her agonized characters, such as Suzanne, absolutely fascinating to behold. From start to finish, there is an engrossing battle raging within the academic. Suzanne is desperate not to show her cards, at first, because that means the oppressive world will have won. Even after a terrible event befalls her, she refuses to leave Columbus. She’s full of stoic determination. McDonald smartly finds contrarian moments for her careful professorial facade to crack and each and every one is affecting. When her gleaming face suddenly turns hurt, cold, angry or lifeless, it has a big, wordless punch. The lion’s share of the show is hers, but Pinkham, who’s best known for his roles in musicals, has a striking scene. During another lecture late in the play, as Suzanne looks on with a polar opposite facial expression this time, his eyes are so red and strained it looks like he hasn’t slept in days. It’s simple but scary.

At first the musical follows the usual jukebox musical formula, straightforwardly depicting a young Brooklyn-born Diamond (Will Swenson) playing guitar at the Bitter End rock club on Bleecker Street and being discovered by record producer Ellie Greenwich (Bri Sudia). His nascent career is not unlike Carole King’s. (Don’t misunderstand me — “Beautiful: The Carole King Musical” is an infinitely superior show.) He writes hit songs for other more famous artists to sing, such as “I’m a Believer” for the Monkees.

At first the musical follows the usual jukebox musical formula, straightforwardly depicting a young Brooklyn-born Diamond (Will Swenson) playing guitar at the Bitter End rock club on Bleecker Street and being discovered by record producer Ellie Greenwich (Bri Sudia). His nascent career is not unlike Carole King’s. (Don’t misunderstand me — “Beautiful: The Carole King Musical” is an infinitely superior show.) He writes hit songs for other more famous artists to sing, such as “I’m a Believer” for the Monkees.

And the direction is very fine. Arden has become a Broadway regular since his revival of 'Spring Awakening' in 2015, and 'A Christmas Carol' is his strongest and most confident work to date. Every idea connects seamlessly with the next, and never settles into Scrooge-control. The performance builds and builds, surprising us all along the way. The director also shows a flair for breathtaking stage pictures that was not so evident in his recent City Center revival of 'Parade' that plans to come to Broadway. Even if you're a Scrooge when it comes to annual holiday fare, like I am, 'A Christmas Carol' succeeds as a strong piece of theater.

And the direction is very fine. Arden has become a Broadway regular since his revival of 'Spring Awakening' in 2015, and 'A Christmas Carol' is his strongest and most confident work to date. Every idea connects seamlessly with the next, and never settles into Scrooge-control. The performance builds and builds, surprising us all along the way. The director also shows a flair for breathtaking stage pictures that was not so evident in his recent City Center revival of 'Parade' that plans to come to Broadway. Even if you're a Scrooge when it comes to annual holiday fare, like I am, 'A Christmas Carol' succeeds as a strong piece of theater.

This sporadically fun musical from - where else! - Great Britain with a loony book by David West Read suggests this idea is somehow very feminist; that taking a dagger for your poisoned man is the ultimate failure of the Bechdel test. A bit self-righteous coming from a show that includes 'I Kissed a Girl and I Liked It' by Katy Perry, dontcha think? The key to enjoying yourself at '& Juliet' - and it is, indeed, an empty-headed good time - is to ignore the plot entirely and pretend you're at a concert. And to have the bartender fill your souvenir sippy cup right to the rim with your booze of choice.

Yes, composer Jeanine Tesori and book-writer David Lindsay-Abaire's musical at the Booth Theatre is a smidge too wacky for its own good. Lindsay-Abaire's many eccentric flourishes, at times, can come across as showing off. I often missed the grounded power of the writer's excellent play, 'Good People.' Nonetheless, this odd duck is undeniably likable. 'Kimberly' the musical and the character have a strong underdog appeal and a warmth that keeps the audience firmly on its side. While never rapturous, 'Akimbo' is always enjoyable and ultimately touching.

Those classic bits are all still here, yes, but they're a wisp of the original. British director Jeremy Herrin, who should stick to plays and steer clear of Stratocasters, composer-lyricist Tom Kitt and book writer-lyricist Crowe do not present a compelling case for why the film must be a Broadway musical. It's pleasant and sweet and passes the time, sure, but should that be enough?

As Lincoln, Hawkins (from the 'In The Heights' film, 'BlacKkKlansman') is weathered by the world - bruised, tired and punishing, but also grandfatherly for someone so young. (Maybe it's the fake Abe beard.) When he furiously deals three-card monte, the actor drives the speeches with Nascar adrenaline. Hawkins is thrilling.

As Lincoln, Hawkins (from the 'In The Heights' film, 'BlacKkKlansman') is weathered by the world - bruised, tired and punishing, but also grandfatherly for someone so young. (Maybe it's the fake Abe beard.) When he furiously deals three-card monte, the actor drives the speeches with Nascar adrenaline. Hawkins is thrilling.

The famous ending, involving the aforementioned ghoul, is also bungled. This time it combines a screen and less-than-adequate projection, the shoddiness of which distracts from the finale's power and purpose. If you're sitting even slightly off center, you can barely discern what's going on. It could be an iPhone flashlight or the aurora borealis. The windup, however, is rich and sublimely acted. When Washington snarled and stared at Brooks and Jackson with unrelenting intensity, I was reminded of his father Denzel's explosive Troy in Wilson's 'Fences' that he performed 12 years ago just two blocks away. In a play very much about legacy, that felt right.

'Salesman,' always a long sit, settles on an even-keeled gear early on and stubbornly sticks to it - so the production feels endless. The climactic fight all the way to the inevitable conclusion is not affectingly tragic, and there is no build to speak of. Nice songs, but not enough attention was paid to the basics.

All that cramming leads to a drama that is, for the most part, cold and clammy until it gains some heat near the end. The writer has jammed politics, innovative devices and the passage of time together before, in plays such as 'Arcadia' and 'Rock n Roll,' that were far more satisfying because there were fewer stories and names to keep track of.

Michele brings real singing power to the table as Fanny - the role made famous by Barbra Streisand - which was sorely lacking in the revival and is beyond vital... Michele's best number, though, is 'The Music That Makes Me Dance' - a reflective tune sung after her home life has crumbled as her fame has skyrocketed. Michele hasn't been on Broadway since she left 'Spring Awakening' in 2009, and her self-reflection and vulnerability from the intervening years is obvious. As Wendla in 'Awakening,' she was an inexperienced kid - onstage and off. Her Fanny, on the other hand, is hardened, hurt and defensive from the get-go. She's not always lovable, but it's the right take for this actress.

Onstage, of course, we don't have hundreds of pages to let the ambitious tale breathe. We've got 2½ hours. So the sheer number of tragedies makes 'The Kite Runner' an especially tough story to adapt without turning it into a soap opera - an emotional shellacking. That treacherous trap, however, is shrewdly avoided on Broadway, where a moving stage adaptation of the book opened Thursday night, because of the actors' radiating warmth and the production's generosity of spirit. It's a straightforward, to-the-point play, but one that's easy to embrace and gripping as it unfurls.

The razor sharp focus here, instead, is on a divinely cast, crystal clear staging of the fairytale musical that intertwines the tales of Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk and Rapunzel into a lesson about how adulthood has no happy ending. You won't soon forget Sara Bareilles' perfect rendition of 'Moments in the Woods,' a notoriously tricky song in which the Baker's Wife tries to rationalize some taboo forest frolicking. The actress is so warm and thoughtful during the number, but also flies by the seat of her pants. I've never seen such a relatable interpretation - she's the Baker's Wife of Park Slope.