Katherine Kiessling

Scenes from “Holy Grail” are faithful to their inspiration and are highlights of the evening, even if they sometimes fall just shy of the Pythonesque, go-for-broke abandonment. And this could just be an unavoidable symptom of the 50-year-old familiarity of “Holy Grail.” Could I have laughed harder at some of the jokes had I not already known their punchlines? Certainly. Did I still leave smiling at the show’s utter silliness? Absolutely.

Despite all of the reworking, the Disney magic of the original movie and Broadway musical remains. The ballroom scene — considered a marvel in the film for its blend of computer and hand drawn animation — still enchants. When Belle first appears in her yellow ball gown, a collective gasp ripples throughout the audience. The Oscar-winning titular ballad, sung by Kathy Voytko’s warm, nurturing Mrs. Potts, commands rapt attention and reminds us what is at the heart of this story (and of the superb talents of the late lyricist Howard Ashman, who died of AIDS eight months before the original film’s release).

The present tour’s Fanny, Hannah Shankman, is up for the challenge, though. Her soaring pipes, motor-mouth comedy and charm help ground the challenging production. Shankman deftly wields Fanny’s humor as both a strength, like the belly-bouncing slapstick in her first performance with the Ziegfeld Follies, and a vulnerability, particularly in the punchlines tearfully delivered as Nick leaves her. She also makes smart vocal choices that side-step Streisand and allow her Fanny to find her own voice.

And while what grew may not go down in musical theater history as a revolutionary work, Shucked offers the Broadway equivalent of a solid popcorn flick: an escapist romp through a maze of love, laughs and corn."

Under the deft manipulation of an ensemble of puppeteers, each finds spectacular — and often grisly — life in their movements, from the sinuous, stalking slink of the tiger to the spastic twitch of the poor goat chosen to be the zoo animal’s lunch. Whenever they and the rest of the production are forced to retreat into the confines of reality, Lolita Chakrabarti’s script sputters. It, like Pi, is eager to avoid the gruesome truth of the teen’s survival in favor of of the fantastical.

The heart of the show is assigned to Leo and his wife Lucille, played by Max Chernin and Talia Suskauer. The pair is charged with embracing the Franks’ rough edges — his aloofness, her initial desires to cling to her privileged life and flee the hardships of her husband’s trial — and eliciting empathy. Chernin’s Leo is a heartbreaking, tightly coiled ball of anxiety, one that softens with the desperation of his final courtroom plea, "It's Hard to Speak My Heart.” Lucille glows with fiery determination for justice and fierce love, thanks to Suskauer expertly calibrated performance, and the pair's chemistry makes the Franks’ reignited tenderness in act two palpable.

“MJ,” under the brilliant direction and choreography of Christopher Wheeldon, is eager to sweep audiences away from this tension and instead propel them into a full throttle jukebox spectacle. As the show barrels through 40 hits from both Jackson and Motown’s catalogs, it’s an easy ride to board. The framing device of the rehearsal lets major hits slide naturally into unexpected places (an electric “Beat It” kicks off the show) and Jason Michael Webb and David Holcenberg’s arrangements bring new perspectives to familiar songs. “Thriller,” for example, takes on a sentimental, stripped down start before exploding into dazzling splendor.

At its heart, “Some Like It Hot” is all about being true to who you are. Under book writers Matthew Lopez and Amber Ruffin, the story smartly evolves the gender dynamics of the 65-year-old film for the modern day and adds in effective commentary on race through Sugar, Sweet Sue and Jerry/Daphne, now all Black. And with the pair’s writing backgrounds — Lopez penned the Elvis impersonator-turned-drag artist comedy “The Legend of Georgia McBride” and Ruffin writes for Seth Myers — the pathos is served with countless laugh-out-loud moments.

Many iconic moments from the movie are welcomed surprises, not shoehorned fan service. The striped sandworm, “Jump in the Line,” and a Scooby-Doo-style chase featuring Miss Argentina, Shrunken Head Man and other Netherworld characters all make appearances, and the designs, which riff on the outlandish, signature Burton aesthetic, are eye-popping. Even the uncomfortable child bride plot is transformed into a green card situation for Beetlejuice, which is underlined by the cringey, yet catchy tune “Creepy Old Guy.” If only the show found a way to maintain its moments of musical comedy magic.

It doesn’t help that the script pairs a passive Bobbie against a crew of colorful couples, ramped up to outsized caricatures in this production. The supporting company superbly grounds their absurdity. The brilliant Matt Rodin deftly navigates the dizzying dread and breakneck pace of “Not Getting Married Today,” now sung by groom Jamie hours before he weds Paul, and unexpected jump scares courtesy of Marina Kondo’s operatic priestess of love and Elliott’s effective staging hams up the number to showstopping proportions. Jacob Dickey finds an earnest sweetness in Andy, the handsome, simple minded flight attendant dating Bobbie. Judy McLane as Joanne, clad in sumptuous furs and sequins designed by Christie, delivers a commanding “Ladies Who Lunch” draped on a barstool and wielding her vodka stinger like a cynical dagger as a warning to those who, like Bobbie, sit on the sidelines watching — but never fully living — life.