Jonathan Mandell

Luckily, the words matter less than they might have because the most outstanding aspect of this musical is the staging – by which I mean primarily the choreography. The set, design (especially the lighting by Brian MacDevitt) and special effects (rain, smoke, fire) allow for, and sometimes enhance, the movement. This encompasses not just the dancing, but the fighting, which at its most arresting, resembles not just slow-motion cinematography but stop-motion animation – performed by the human beings on stage.

The Who’s hardcore fans may like these hard-charging spectacles the most in “Tommy.” There are certainly some terrific stage effects. But I appreciate the few quieter moments – maybe these reflect the spirituality that Townshend was aiming for — when Quinten Kusheba (who portrayed the ten-year-old Tommy on the night I attended) sings a piercingly clear rendition of “See me, hear me” without any of the rock noise.

He tells stories. The stories, in eight different scenes or segments, range from harrowing to comic, and sometimes both; and are, he says, sometimes true, sometimes false, sometimes both: He is an actor and a storyteller, he explains, “which is a polite way of saying I’ve been a bullshit artist all my life.” Fishburne mixes recollections and impersonations that seem connected only by his talent and intelligence. There is no obvious overall theme. This is how “Like They Do in the Movies” differs from the solo shows by the three theater artists who have apparently inspired this piece: Among the many people Fishburne thanks on a page In the playbill are “Dr. Whoopi Goldberg, John Leguizamo, and Anna Deavere Smith, for showing me the way.”

The circus setting is the excuse for what’s most awe-inspiring about this musical adaptation of Sara Gruen’s 2006 bestselling novel, which opened tonight at Broadway’s Imperial Theater. It’s the Big Top-like entertainment, especially the heart-stopping acrobatics, which are not just athletically spectacular but often visually beautiful and emotionally expressive, enhancing the dancing and even advancing the story. Much else in “Water for Elephants” has its pleasures – the score, the singing, the puppetry, the acting, even the love story — but nothing else matches the circus artistry for its originality, variety and consistency.

But “Teeth,” opening tonight at Playwrights Horizons, seems likely to turn off at least as many theatergoers as it would draw in: It’s deemed “appropriate for audiences ages 17+,” and it’s impossible to see how It could be otherwise, given that it’s an adaptation of a 2007 horror movie of the same name about a woman who has lethal teeth in her vagina. What’s most disappointing about “Teeth” is not its excesses, although these are deliberately in-your-face — the aggressively vulgar lyrics, the gory severed penises – but how the various elements of the show don’t completely hold together.

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“The Notebook: The Musical” will probably not be the same kind of star-making vehicle, but it is uniformly well-cast, with several memorable performances. The story is cleverly adapted by librettist Bekah Brunstetter, who seems almost as much guided by the TV series “This Is Us” (where she worked as a writer and producer) as by Sparks’ novel. And singer-songwriter Ingrid Michaelson, in her Broadway songwriting debut, delivers almost two dozen largely folk and country-inflected melodies, most of them lovely, if blandly so; only a few stand out. Little in this musical may soar, but, given the potential of the material for over-the-top melodrama, the relatively low-key approach is part of the show’s appeal.

A regular laboratory for clinical trials is itself an artificial setting, as is the relationship between researcher and subject, so perhaps there’s an analogy at work here that explains the brutally artificial staging. The stage pictures can certainly be arresting. But it’s a conceptual imposition, which paradoxically keeps intellectual engagement secondary, at best. Director Jamie Lloyd’s last gig in New York, last year’s production of “A Doll’s House” on Broadway starring Jessica Chastain, was also devoid of props and of a realistic set, and also imposed a heavy-handed directorial conceit: The actors rarely stood up from their chairs. Lloyd clearly has a preferred aesthetic – call it minimalist chic – which others have praised as removing distractions so that the audience can focus on what matters. But what matters in a play? Is it only the theatrical effect?

The nun is certain, or says she is, that the priest is molesting one of the students in her school, but we never are so sure, thanks to John Patrick Shanley’s exquisitely well-crafted play, which debuted on Broadway in 2005, winning both the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, and four Tony Awards, including Best Play. In this first Broadway revival of “Doubt: A Parable,” which is running only through April 21 at Roundabout’s newly renamed Todd Haimes Theater, the deceptively simple script holds up, the production is sturdy, but only one of the four performances is superb. The others are serviceable, in roles made indelible in the original production (especially Cherry Jones as Sister Aloysius) or in the 2008 movie (Philip Seymour Hoffman as Father Flynn.)

For all the high-powered theatrical talent involved, this stage interpretation of Sufjan Stevens’ acclaimed 2005 album “Illinois” could probably use a warning label. It’s extraordinary, it’s queer, it’s often thrilling, but regular New York theatergoers might need to adjust their expectations. The first adjustment — and a truly exasperating one — is that “Illinoise,” opening tonight at the Park Avenue Armory, has already sold out its entire run.

“The Ally” is much-needed, timely theater, but it isn’t completely up-to-date: Written before the October 7 2023 massacre of Israelis by Hamas and subsequent Israeli invasion of Gaza, it’s set in September, 2023. So much has intensified in the last few months that “The Ally” could almost feel like a period piece, a time when people who sharply disagreed could still talk to one another.

Director Rupert Goold, the artistic director of London’s Almeida Theater, where David Farr’s adaptation debuted in 2019, has turned the story into an exercise in inventive staging. In an early scene, members of Lucas’ hunting lodge sing raucous drinking songs and perform what feels like a savage ritual (in the film, they just swam naked in the local lake); later, in an apparent nod to the main community activity of deer-hunting, we see Minotaur-like figures. Es Devlin, the Tony-winning scenic designer for “The Lehman Trilogy,” has created another transparent cube for “The Hunt” – a small one in the middle of the stage that serves as the classroom, the local hunting lodge, the local church with the characters crowded inside, as if to emphasize the (claustrophobic?) closeness of the community. Characters magically appear and disappear in the cube – and not just human ones.

Morisseau has become a much better playwright in the decade since she wrote this play. The action in “Sunset Baby” is driven by a plot that’s full of holes: Ashanti left behind a raft of letters that she wrote, but didn’t send, to Kenyatta, which are now in great demand from journalists and academics, who are apparently willing to pay a lot of money for them. Kenyatta wants them too; is it for the money? We aren’t sure at first.

Brian d’Arcy James and Kelli O’Hara return to Broadway for the first time together since 2002 to portray a couple who fall in love with alcohol as much as with one another in this musical adaptation of a dark story that was first a television drama in the 1950s, then a movie. They last performed together on Broadway in a musical adaptation of another dark movie set in the 1950s, “Sweet Smell of Success.” They were relative newcomers then. It’s thrilling to see them back together for his sixteenth and her thirteenth role on Broadway. The two stars carry “Days of Wine and Roses,” their exquisite voices bringing out the brilliance of Adam Guettel’s jazz-inflected, often operatic score, and investing the characters’ rocky emotional journeys with a credibility that few other performers could match. They justify bringing to Broadway an adaptation of a story that feels dated.

But, unlike the early concerts in the series, it would be hard to argue that the acting and dancing play second (or eighth) fiddle. None of the lead actors read from the scripts on music stands; they are fully costumed, they and the ensemble are fully choreographed. Encores no longer sees its primary mission as offering a second listen to long-dormant musicals with great scores and poor books. One now suspects that the producers are always hoping for a Broadway transfer, such as happened, most spectacularly, with “Chicago.” Even officially, as its page on the City Center website puts it, “This series of concert stagings revisits the archives of American musical theater…spotlighting the vocal talents of star-studded ensembles.” It’s hard to complain when the vocal talent is so abundant, as in “Once Upon A Mattress,” and it’s matched by so much comic talent.

“Appropriate,” the last play to open on Broadway in 2023 and one of the best-acted productions of the year, tells the story of a dysfunctional family who reunite after the death of their patriarch to auction off all his possessions, during which we learn little by little how messed up each and every one of the characters is. But Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ resonant play also in its own wry and sly way tells a dark story of race in America. If what’s going on beneath the mordant humor on the surface is not always clear, we’re given plenty of clues that encourage us to assume, and try to root out, a deeper meaning, starting before the first line is even spoken: Projected on the stage are six dictionary definitions of the word “appropriate,” including an adjective that means proper, and a verb that means to steal.

“How To Dance in Ohio” is a musical adaptation of a 2015 documentary film of the same name about a group of autistic young adults at a counseling center in Columbus, Ohio, who, as part of their social skills therapy group, spend months preparing for a formal prom-like dance. The production, which opens tonight at Broadway’s Belasco Theater, has some tuneful melodies, some touching moments and, above all, an exhilarated and exhilarating cast, featuring seven performers who are themselves autistic young adults making their Broadway debuts portraying the autistic characters. But the musical falls short of the documentary it has adapted in ways that make the translation to the stage feel like less than an ideal fit for Broadway.

“Manahatta” dramatizes two pivotal, and shameful, moments in New York City history, occurring four centuries apart — the Dutch West India Company’s “purchase” of the island of Manhattan from the Lenape Indians (who had no concept of land ownership), and the world-wide financial crisis of 2008, In Mary Kathryn Nagle’s sharply written play, which is wonderfully acted under Laurie Woolery’s seamless direction, the two events tell much the same story.

Yes, Alicia Keys songs are organized to tell a story loosely based on a moment in Alicia Keys’ life: At the age of 17, Ali (portrayed by Maleah Joi Moon, making an impressive professional debut) pursues a boy and discovers the piano while rebelling against her strict mother, Jersey (Soshana Bean.) But the story is not what’s most fresh or distinctive about “Hell’s Kitchen,” and enough of the details have been altered to turn Ali into a fictional character: Keys’ passion for the piano was ignited by age six, for example, not 17 as in the show; her largely absent father was a flight attendant, not a pianist.

The stagecraft features the work of video producer Anne Troup and projection designer David Bengali dominating more scenes than is usual for a show in a relatively small Off-Broadway house. But the solid production can’t completely compensate for the elusiveness of the script. The playwright of “Scene Partners” is withholding, making his scene partners – which is to say, the actors and the audience — do too much of the work.

So blame it on my conditioning, but these latest Didi and Gogo did not rivet my attention until some of those slapstick routines kicked in, mostly in Act II, most memorably when they juggle three hats on their two heads, and when four of the characters all collapse on one another.

It took a quarter century for Manilow and Sussman to bring “Harmony” to New York, presented by the National Yiddish Theater Folksbiene, which seemed fitting, and was one reason it was exciting. So much has changed since then in the world; so much has changed in the last month! The show feels now like an occasionally enjoyable entertainment more than something we need to see.

This juxtaposition – intermingling – of sex and death, of obscenity and grief, is central to the play, and arguably at the core of much of Roth’s oeuvre, although a writer who produced “Portney’s Complaint” and “American Pastoral” and“The Plot Against America” can’t be summed up so simply. But the balance is skewed in this adaptation. I found the explicit scenes more often off-putting than amusing or alluring. There are some poignant moments, especially when Marvel is portraying Drenka, and Kravits is playing Sabbath’s100-year-old cousin Fish. But there are fewer than intended.

At three hours long (plus intermission), “Stereophonic” feels as if it’s in Annie Baker territory – which is to say long and slow but meticulously observed from real life, unfolding as if in real time, but also offering a subtle wit and the possibility of deeper meaning. But does that sound like the right approach for a play about ROCK N ROLL?! Sure, there is an original rock score by the Grammy-winning musician Will Butler, formerly of Arcade Fire, but I counted only a half dozen songs, and, in keeping with the naturalistic approach, they were presented as if the band was figuring them out — therefore largely in snippets and stops and starts, the band spending more time listening to the raw recordings of their music than playing it.

David Zinn’s minimalist set in Act I may inadvertently encourage theatergoers in the feeling that “Here We Are” is unfinished – that it would have been different, better, if Sondheim were still alive, especially since he was a self-confessed procrastinator with a track record of coming up with his most brilliant work way past deadline (such as, most famously, “A Comedy Tonight” in “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum,” the first musical for which he wrote both music and lyrics, in 1962.) But I prefer to see “Here We Are” in light of a different Sondheim track record. As both biographers and loyal fans know, the public rarely appreciates any of Sondheim’s musicals right away. It takes time to find them wonderful.