Mark Kennedy

Chenoweth, who was born to be in a spangly dress and center stage on Broadway, is perfect for the role, an always-welcome jolt of in-on-it theatricality, but is let down by dialogue that’s not as funny as it could be and with a character too unfocused. Despite an out-of-town tryout in Boston, “The Queen of Versailles” still needs the stage filled with construction workers hammering in yellow vests. It’s not quite completed.

If $300,000 sounds like a ridiculous price for a monothematic canvas, you’ll side with Marc, played with pitch-perfect exasperation by Bobby Cannavale. If the painting speaks to you, you’ll be with Serge, a flinty, slightly full-of-himself Neil Patrick Harris. If you just want to hang out and not talk about the painting any more, you’ll identify with James Corden’s hapless Yvan.

“Succession” breakout Kieran Culkin joins “Better Call Saul” star Bob Odenkirk and comedian Bill Burr in a crackling, non-showy and well-balanced production that opened Monday at the Palace Theatre.The trio will likely get a standing ovation every night, but it’s the casting that really sings. None of the leads are outside their comfort zones.

Outside this apartment building in the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood — we get a clue the time is the early 1990s — are “roaches and the rats/heroin in the cracks.” But no criminality is shown — at worst some illegal krumping? — and the cops don’t actually brutalize those citizens deemed undesirable. They sort of just shoo them away. This is a sanitized New York for the M&M store tourists, despite the lyrics in Keys’ songs.

The play, which opened Friday at the Golden Theatre, is a hypernaturalistic meditation on the thrill, and also the danger, of collaborating on art — the compromises, the egos and the joys. It’s an ode not just to the music business but perhaps to the theater world, too.

The bombastic musical that opened Thursday at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre is about a love for the ages but has understated songs by Ingrid Michaelson, who offers coffee house vibes instead of passion’s thunder. The book by Bekah Brunstetter loses gas well before it’s over and piles on the melodrama.

You're handed an LED wristband as you enter “Once Upon a One More Time,” a musical on Broadway stuffed with Britney Spears songs. But the gift is strangely inert for the whole show, only coming to life and gleaming at the curtain call. It's not a wristband — it's a metaphor. It glows in the end because you are free. Free of this bombastic, patronizing, clumsy, lazy show. “Once Upon a One More Time,” which opened Thursday at the Marquis Theatre, is pure summer dumb — it's got smoke machines working overtime, weird dance breaks, tons of glitter and every song ends with a manufactured IMAX-level sonic boom.

There are references throughout to the unfairness of society’s role for women in the 1930s (“No men?” asks one bandmember sarcastically. “But who’s gonna talk over us?”) One curious weapon the book writers have come up with to even the score and get men to listen to them is, well, scatting. Sometimes musical theater has its own magic, I guess. To steal a key line from the film that makes it to the musical, “nobody’s perfect.” Yet this show is very nearly that.

Some of the songs are nicely presented, like “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” as a duet between Diamond and his second wife, and a gospel-tinged “Holly Holy,” but others are not: “Forever in Blue Jeans,” is a mess, oversung by Wife No. 2 (Robyn Hurder) and choreographed with random dancers scurrying across the stage doing their own thing, as if in a busy train station. An awkward duet between Diamond’s first and second wives is best forgotten, too.

Jaquel Spivey, in his Broadway debut, plays Usher with such hang-dog and sweet poignancy that it may take audience members supreme self-restraint not to go up on stage and give him a hug. He's battling a toxic stew of romantic rejection and artistic self-doubt, from shame for his secret love of white girl music to fears of being a race traitor. Along for the ride are six sensational actors who play the chorus: Antwayn Hopper, L Morgan Lee, John-Michael Lyles, James Jackson Jr., John-Andrew Morrison and Jason Veasey. Stephen Brackett's direction is crisp and carefully varied over 100 minutes and terrific choreography by Raja Feather Kelly combines everything from twerking to gospel swaying.

The show rests and falls on Feldstein, who must posses as Brice both a grand confidence - 'I'm the greatest star' - and an insecurity ('You mean it?'). Brice is a beacon for all the misfits, a stand-in for the unconventional - 'a bagel on a plate full of onion rolls' - and Feldstein nails it. Plus, she can deliver a 'fakachta' with authenticity. Highlights include a hysterically seductive and hungry 'You Are Woman, I Am Man;' a crowded celebration of married life in 'Sadie, Sadie;' the touching duet 'Who Taught Her Everything She Knows'; and the showstopper-in-the-show 'Rat-Tat-Tat-Tat' with 12 dancers mimicking soldiers. Look for a moment when Karimloo shuffles playing cards theatrically and Lynch does the same not long after.

Aside from the odd dated reference - Dr. Joyce Brothers, hello? - and some unfortunate reminders of our current time - like that powerful Hollywood producers using hotel rooms for seduction isn't very funny anymore - 'Plaza Suite' definitely feels more than 50 years old. It's stuck in the mid-20th century with its privileged elites, offering pre-feminist musings on midlife crises and the elusiveness of marital bliss, all over a room service double scotch. It is being staged for the very people who feel the need to burst into applause when they first see John Lee Beatty's gorgeous Plaza set, complete with chandeliers, sconces and timelessly elegant chairs. They know they'll be gently taken care of in here, like guests at a stuffy, hyper-expensive hotel living off its legacy, that has endured. Not challenged or stretched. It is an elegant looking past, yes, but it's time for the new. Today, it has to be new.

Jackman is but just one astonishing part of the subtly reworked Meredith Wilson musical that opened Thursday night at the Winter Garden Theatre. It overflows with talent, clever ideas and a hard-working multicultural cast. Sutton Foster somehow channels her inner Carole Burnett to play Hill's reluctant love interest, showing a gift for physical humor and comic timing in addition to nifty tap dancing and a gorgeous voice. If there ever was a stage match for Jackman, Foster is it.

Nottage and director and choreographer Christopher Wheeldon have one of the greatest music catalogues in the world and yet don't seem to know how to handle it. Some pivotal songs - like 'For the Love of Money' by The O'Jays - aren't by Jackson at all. And a large bulk of Jackson's songs used - including 'Earth Song,' 'Stranger in Moscow,' 'Price of Fame' and 'They Don't Care About Us' - were released after 1992. You can't have it both ways. Even so, nothing should take away from a tireless, fully-committed Myles Frost, who plays Jackson with a high, whispery voice, a Lady Diana-like coquettishness and a fierce embrace of Jackson's iconic dancing and singing style, right down to the rhythmic breathing and swiveling head. He Moonwalks insanely well.

With 'Mrs. Doubtfire,' McClure's character, who has swiped the fear of erasure from so many, is more like a spy, hoping to connect with his kids. He doesn't cause much harm, but it's still deception in drag and the dialogue engages in gender in only the most superficial ways, never saying anything about queer identity or marginalization. It's denuded, too scared to seize the opportunity.

Childress wrote a satire of the white theater scene at the time, poking holes in liberal banalities and the white commitment to Black equality. It will still take your breath away, making it a mandatory stop in the fall season. The strong Roundabout Theatre Company's production that opened Thursday stars LaChanze and Chuck Cooper still standing on fissures that were raw in the 1950s, from how agreeable to white authority Blacks must pretend to behave in order to work to the plea of white actors uncomfortable with too much Black boldness.

The musical opened Monday and stars the excellent Josh Groban, wearing a fat suit no less, and the sublime Denee Benton. It's best for people who want to say they experienced a cool immersive experience on Broadway, but one without any heart. It's pure showmanship with none of the emotional payoff.

McTeer is luminous and sharp, playing her marquise coolly indeed but with an inner fire burning. 'I was born to dominate your sex and avenge my own,' she tells Valmont. McTeer reveals her vulnerability only late, and to devastating effect. Schreiber, for his part, isn't reptilian or overly lascivious. His Valmont is idly amused and relaxed - even drunkenly indifferent - until he pounces like a shark, a true seduction machine. Schreiber seems so relaxed that during one preview scene in which he lounges on a coach, he expertly tossed two playing cards back-to-back into an urn on the floor.

It's not really quick or savvy enough to keep up with the times, but once in a while it's sort of fun to hang with at a bar, listening to its lewd, alcohol-inspired stories. Sure, ultimately it smells a little off and it's hopelessly old-fashioned, like a weird uncle who shows up on holidays.

'Heisenberg' is as stripped down as theater can get - two chairs, two tables, two actors, one slender script. But Simon Stephens' play also is as sumptuous an experience as theater gets.

The first signal you get that 'Paramour' is no ordinary Broadway show is the size of the playbill. It's a monster, easily dwarfing the regular booklets you get handed at every other theater. That makes sense. 'Paramour' wants to be different, outsized and brash. It's the first Cirque du Soleil show created specifically for Broadway, harnessing its muscular gravity-avoiding acrobats to musical theater. The result, which opened Wednesday at the Lyric Theatre, is sometimes overstuffed and awkward but always finds its footing when it highlights its soaring, rubber-bodied stars.

'Shuffle Along, or the Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed' is, like its title suggests, a genre-jumping show, something not comfortable in one box. It's not a review or revival. It's more like a history lesson that will blow you away. Brian Stokes Mitchell, Billy Porter, Brandon Victor Dixon and Joshua Henry star in the show, all dancing to Savion Glover's choreography. Each of these men is worthy of having their own show. Putting them together is insane. Oh, and Audra McDonald just happens to be in it, too...There is a bit of bloat, too much exposition and with five stars who each need a backstory, the plot sometimes slows, but Wolfe nicely captures the timeless craziness of creation and the glory days of a special show.

'Tuck Everlasting,' the new musical that deals with eternal life, has wisely been put in the hands of someone whose work on Broadway never seems to die -- director Casey Nicholaw...The show that opened Tuesday at the Broadhurst Theatre is wonderfully crafted, a Nicholaw hallmark. Poignancy mixes well with humor, the songs are fresh and sweet, the set is blissful and the performances honest. It has a polished feel. All of the parts work smartly...The music by Chris Miller is magical, grounded in folk, foot-pounding earthy beats and soaring melodies...Nathan Tysen's lyrics are even better -- delving into complex themes with elegance.

There are some 40 people in the play and Ferguson voices all of them, from a mafia wiseguy to an imperious Bon Appetit magazine staffer, to an 86-year-old furniture maker to a Park Avenue socialite. He goes from stuffy French to surfer-guy cool in milliseconds. The 90-minute show...is a triumph of voices and athleticism from Ferguson...The amount of concentration required by Ferguson is impressive and director Jason Moore runs a tight ship. One stray ring or bobbled cue could set the whole thing off, but Ferguson runs through 'Fully Committed' surefooted like an Olympian on an obstacle course.

But the best part of this show is Mueller as piemaker Jenna, who won a Tony Award for playing Carole King in the musical 'Beautiful.' She combines earthiness, sexiness, timidity and dreaminess and her voice overflows with emotion. Listening to her sing the heartbreaking 'She Used to Be Mine' is surely one of the very best things on Broadway this season.