Mark Kennedy

A big part of why the stage show works isn't Pee-wee, though. It's the puppets and David Korins's set under the direction of Alex Timbers. There are a lot of moving parts here and visual jokes that must be precisely orchestrated: Some of the Basil Twist-led puppets are marionettes — like Pterri — while some are operated by remote control — like Magic Screen — and still others are manipulated from inside the puppet — like Conky. Voices are done from people offstage and Jambi the Genie (John Paragon) spends most of the performance with only his head showing from within a box.

Who needs Will? That might be the typical reaction from theatergoers after seeing the Broadway musical 'Elf,' a show that remains true to the 2003 Will Ferrell movie but stands on its own with great sets and design, a funny adapted script and a collection of hardworking actors. It simply doesn't need Ferrell in tights.

It's not the thin gruel some had feared, but it's also not a spicy knock out - at least not yet. Mostly, it's just a bloated dish, with too much repetition and too much thrown up on stage, as if the chefs were trying to dazzle with as many ingredients as possible.

What has emerged is an absolute marvel. The creators - including director and choreographer Susan Stroman and book writer David Thompson - walk a fine line between satire and alienation, but emerge with what surely must be the edgiest play on Broadway.

Created by veterans of the revue 'Beatlemania,' this tribute show feeds off a seemingly endless appetite for all things Paul, John, George and Ringo. But after a show like this, the only impression that is left are those classic songs. And that's as it should be.

Sometimes massive, earthshaking events require - even demand - that they be depicted on stage with an equally vast canvas. And sometimes all you need is a can of salmon.

Light is stunning as his wife, a woman who reluctantly left her life in New Jersey for Wisconsin's frozen tundra. She wears a helmet of '60s-housewife hair, likes downing highballs and has some of the driest, funniest lines. The visiting journalist soon recognizes that she's the key person to talk to, much as she is the fulcrum of the play.

This time around, 'La Bete' is certain to last longer than the 25 performances it played on Broadway in 1991. This seems the perfect time - in our age of thoughtless, abbreviated text messages and half-baked opinions - to revisit a play that loves words but also a sophisticated debate about what they mean. This cast, with this script, have proven there is beauty in the beast.

The whole thing is just plain odd: This show walks a fine line between parody and sincerity, between mocking musicals and yet embracing them, between promoting stereotypes and yet laughing at them, between respect for history and having none at all, and between making fun of rock stars and yet producing one. It sometimes falters, yet never loses it's swagger - unlike that hogtied horse dangling from the balcony.

Mamet wrote the play more than 33 years ago — a bold move for a 30-year-old. He would go on to stunning, explosive work, but left behind a work that shows a very different side to one of America's greatest playwrights: a sentimental one.

A new revival by the Roundabout Theatre Company, then, comes as a happy surprise. Helmed by Doug Hughes and starring Cherry Jones and Sally Hawkins, the work is made urgent and subversive.

'The Pitmen Painters' comes to New York after a rapturous reception in England and high expectations here because of its playwright. It may not be 'Billy Elliot,' but, in it's own way, it dances.

They are part of the reason theatregoers leave the play with a smile. That, and the cast itself waiting for you near the bar at the end, singing modern songs by Beyonce, Cyndi Lauper and Journey while playing accordion, trumpet, double bass and ukulele. Does being serenaded by the actors after the doomed romance on stage ends in tears make sense? Not really, particularly after all the blissful hijinks have evaporated. But if this is what Rice can do with a mere sliver of a story, just imagine what she can do with something more meaty.