Lester Fabian Brathwaite

The Wiz is all about feeling. It opens with the plaintive “The Feeling We Once Had,” about remembering the good times when things get bad. The musical is designed to uplift. Its cheery sentiment and its devotion to believing in oneself, to relying on one another, to easing on down the road of life and refusing to carry anything 'that might be a load' may seem simplistic. But in complex times, its simple message rings loud and clear — even with some minor sound issues. A

But the real star of the show is Susan Stroman, whose blockbuster direction and choreography make up for the relatively lackluster songs. Beowulf Boritt's lush, imaginative scenic design at times threatens to eclipse the performers, but they're usually up for the challenge. Each minute of New York, New York is buzzing with life, as background dancers and actors flit in and out of view, telling clever little visual stories, giving New York, New York the energy of its titular city.

Hayes' piano solo — and the beautiful way it is lit by Carolina Ortiz Herrera and Ben Stanton — easily ranks as the show's highlight, but aside from a few lulls in the early stages of exposition, before Hayes makes another memorable entrance, the entire play is delightful, buoyed by its leading man's performance. 'I'm controversial! People either dislike me or hate me,' Hayes as Levant quips, another of Levant's reworked old jokes. While Hayes' Levant is an acerbic, self-destructive, sad-sack of a human being, there's nothing to hate or even dislike about him. Or Good Night, Oscar. Sean Hayes is just too easy to love.

Jodie Comer is just plain f---ing remarkable. For an hour and 40 minutes, she's absolutely transfixing. At first haughty and self-possessed as the young lawyer with a brilliant future, and then defeated but defiant as a victim determined to retain her faith in the system to which she had dedicated her life.

Which is why Fat Ham feels so fresh and clever. Ijames could have easily transposed Hamlet beat by beat, or pulled a Baz Luhrmann and have his modern-day characters speak in Iambic pentameter (a couple of monologues notwithstanding). But Ijames' characters are as American as pulled pork and baby back ribs, which emphasizes the universality of Shakespeare's work. The credo of Fat Ham is that famous quote about being true to thine own self. That advice was given to Laertes, not Hamlet, who probably could've used it. Juicy, however, follows it to a tee. To take one of the most definitive and hallowed works in English literature and retell it as a comedy about a young, thicc, queer Black boy in the South is revolutionary in its own way, but like 'A Fifth of Beethoven,' there's a bit of a novelty to Fat Ham, which may say more about the culture in which we live than the play itself.

When the show hits - does it hit. Serotonin from tip to taint. But there are a few lulls, most often when the dance isn't the main focus. The spoken parts can feel awkward at times and because Fosse's movements are so distinctive they can also become a bit repetitive.

Topdog/Underdog is the sound of the streets, the sound of hip-hop, the sound of Black poverty Black tragedy, and importantly, Black joy; it's tough, it's gritty, it's lyrical, it's beautiful, it's poetry. And it requires two actors who can do its lyricism justice. For this 20th anniversary production, the play has found its perfect conduits in Corey Hawkins (Straight Outta Compton, In the Heights) and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (HBO's Watchmen, The Matrix Resurrections).

Nearly 75 years after it first premiered, Death of a Salesman still says more than we care to admit about America, about how one can work their entire life and end up with nothing, how you're worth more dead than you are alive, how the system is rigged against the little guy. Maybe the enduring message of this production is that these themes are universal, that we all suffer the same under the yolk of The American Dream. And that, in spite of the odds, we all aspire to be great.

Nearly 75 years after it first premiered, Death of a Salesman still says more than we care to admit about America, about how one can work their entire life and end up with nothing, how you're worth more dead than you are alive, how the system is rigged against the little guy. Maybe the enduring message of this production is that these themes are universal, that we all suffer the same under the yolk of The American Dream. And that, in spite of the odds, we all aspire to be great.