Mark Shenton

The score by Eddie Perfect -- who also provided songs for this season's King Kong -- is full of wit and grit, and Scott Brown and Anthony King's book propels it forward smartly. There are also hilarious performances from Leslie Kritzer and Sophia Anne Caruso as the mistress and daughter respectively of the house's new buyer Charles (Adam Dannheisser). Beetlejuice is the last new show to open this season -- but could be haunting Broadway for a long while.

And it's a stunning achievement, both in riveting playwriting from Graham and thrilling stagecraft from Goold; the cinematic dynamism and propulsion that each provide turns a play about a pivotal moment in the history of British newspaper journalism into something akin to a thriller. Here we have an outsider newspaper proprietor -- the edgy Australian upstart Rupert Murdoch, buying a failing title from the Daily Mirror stable called The Sun, and with the help of an ambitious young editor Larry Lamb, rebranding it as a popular daily title that soon overtakes its rival in both circulation and influence.

The show stands or falls largely on the startlingly plausible shoulders of Santino Fontana as Michael Dorsey/Dorothy Michaels -- and there's no question that this reliable star of such musicals as R&H's Cinderella has made a break-out, star-making turn here that turns him into a leading player.

A thrilling cast rise to the challenge of making this entirely believable, fraught and eventually scorching. As matriarch Kate, Annette Bening is devastating as well as devastated: a woman clinging to hope, despite knowing in her heart that it is hopeless. And Tracy Letts -- who is also a playwright who wrote the Tony and Pulitzer Prize-winning August: Osage County -- is equally superb as a man consumed by his secrets.

The show is often riotously funny, with a third character Carol, played by the dazzlingly dry and witty Julie White, drawn into the carnage. The play packs a lot in -- including a surprise coup d'theatre that I won't spoil by revealing. This is bold, audacious work -- Broadway has not seen anything quite like this before.

The play's defiant and universal humanity shines through with a burning intensity in Moises Kaufman's beautifully modulated production. It is galvanised by the fierce combination of unsentimental vulnerability and independent dignity that Michael Urie brings to the character of Arnold, while Mercedes Ruehl errs just the right side of dramatic cliche in her performance as his overbearing Jewish mum.

Staged with ruthless efficiency by director Des McAnuff, who previously led one of Broadway's best-ever bio-musicals Jersey Boys to worldwide success, it follows that show's template (one also adopted by Beautiful, the Carole King musical) of folding the well-known hits into the story of Summer's life.

Director Bartlett Sher's last spectacular revival at this address was The King and I, which is preparing to transfer to the London Palladium. He is now helming a Rolls Royce production of My Fair Lady, in Broadway's fourth revival of the title since the original production. It positively glows with class, shimmering with confidence and oozing with delight. But Sher also maintains the show's pertinent astringency, as it portrays how Professor Henry Higgins - a stubborn mule of a confirmed bachelor linguist who treats Eliza Doolittle as little more than a project to be manipulated and re-trained - is wrong-footed when she finally melts his own surprised heart. British actor Harry Hadden-Paton brings a nicely youthful yet appropriately flummoxed air to the role, and in what appears to be his first musical, carries the songs with conviction, too.

The underwhelming revival (directed by Kenny Leon, the 2014 Broadway revival of 'A Raisin in the Sun') does the play no favors with a slick, angular and metallic visual design that unnecessarily calls attention to itself. It also suffers from being played on the wide stage of Studio 54 instead of a more intimate venue.

Two more D/deaf students are played with a truthful-feeling tenacity by John McGinty and Treshelle Edmond. Kenny Leon's production additionally makes unprecedented steps towards inclusivity, offering simultaneous supertitles as well as the text on a mobile App, and providing ASL interpreters at designated performances. Leon's absorbing production is only undermined by an ugly abstract set of door frames and naked tree trunks.

At least Henningsen's Cady, the character played in the film by Lindsay Lohan, effectively transitions from vulnerable outsider to knowing insider. She carries the show's main numbers, too, with aplomb; Taylor Louderman is monstrous and marvellous as Regina, whom Cady may or may not have literally thrown under a bus. Broadway regular Kerry Butler doubles as both her mother and wronged teacher with skilled ease. Is the show 'fetch' or 'grool', to quote two of the new words its characters seeks to coin? No, but Broadway may nevertheless welcome its easy, if generic, professionalism.

Edward Albee won his third Pulitzer prize for this 1991 play. Belatedly it now makes its Broadway debut a year and a half after his death. Following last year's West End revivals of his early 1960s masterpiece Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and his provocative 2000 play The Goat, or Who is Sylvia?, this magisterial revival confirms what a bold and formally inventive playwright he was.

Lobby Hero is its inaugural production in the new space. Kenneth Lonergan's 2001 play began life Off-Broadway and it feels slightly under-nourished on a Broadway stage. That's in part down to David Rockwell's design. It puts the single-set lobby on a revolve, but wilts against the splendour of the theatre - also designed by him.

This is a bit like taking coals to Newcastle - the equivalent of an American company bringing a David Hare state-of-the-nation play to the West End - but this is a production of Broadway-style scale and ambition. 'Very Steven Spielberg!', says a dying young man at the end of the first part, as an angel arrives in his dreams.

Grandage is incredibly well-served by a cast of terrific actors and singers, led by the phenomenal Caissie Levy as Elsa. She brings real complexity to her powerful vocals. She doesn't just belt her songs out, she performs them with a voice rich in emotion. In this way the over-familiar Let it Go, that ends the first act, is made to feel fresh. The song soars. She is perfectly partnered with the more vulnerable Patti Murin as Elsa's sister Anna. A strong bond clearly exists between the actors as well as their characters. There's also adorable work from Andrew Pirozzi as the agile reindeer Sven and Greg Hildreth as a puppeteer snowman Olaf, while Timothy Hughes brings a formidable physicality to the character of Pabbie.

Hailey Kilgore makes an exultant Broadway debut as Ti Moune, expectant with hope, her open-faced vivacity crushed by the pain of her rejection. It's quietly devastating. Glorious, too, if under-used, is the show's biggest star name Lea Salonga, who plays the Goddess of Love with an enveloping warmth and rich vocals, while Phillip Boykin brings a warm gravitas to the role of Tim Moune's adoptive father.

That's as much a fault of the too-pat writing as it is the rather actorly performances. Marton Csokas, as Chloe's lover Peter, is saddled with a fake British accent that makes him sound like he's speaking with a mouth full of marbles. But his character also has the neatest observation on the political expediencies of the day, as a Trump-supporting operative who has the ear of the president but still says: 'Presidents are assets. They exist to be bought, sold, and managed.'

Martin's play is an experimental comedy that sometimes feels like an extended sketch show in which the same scenes are replayed again and again with different outcomes. The story is a little like that of Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Set in 1990s California, it sees one married couple entertaining another at their swanky home. Instead of playing 'get the guests', as Martha and George do, the guests here seem on a mission to 'get the hosts', in more ways than one. The result is an occasionally brittle but seldom biting comedy, a not exactly subtle piece of writing about domestic relationships and the games people play with each other, given a cosmic edge by a spectacular meteor shower.

It's inevitably rushed and bitty as it proffers short extracts from such all-time classics as Fiddler on the Roof, Cabaret, She Loves Me, Follies, Sweeney Todd and Evita, which Prince helped originate. Of course those shows are revived often enough - all of them currently (or recently) in London, Chichester or New York. Prince's production of The Phantom of the Opera is playing in full just three blocks away, so the extract seems entirely superfluous, however grandly West End actor Michael Xavier renders The Music of the Night.

Moore takes us on an indulgent and meandering tour around some of his achievements, whether it was standing for the management board of his high school after he graduated as a teenager or protesting against President Reagan's appearance at a Nazi cemetery in Bitburg, Germany. Not all of this is very theatrical. Moore and his director Michael Mayer, however, keep it entertaining by introducing various set pieces, such as a quiz between two members of the audience that pits the most intelligent American against the dumbest Canadian Moore can find.