Melissa Maerz

Even though this revival is clumsy about the past, its view of the future has aged well. At one point, Scoop describes Heidi's generation as 'disappointed women-interesting, exemplary, even sexy, but basically unhappy.' By the play's end, she's not so pessimistic. 'Maybe things will be a little bit better,' she says, as she holds her newborn daughter. 'So, yes, that does make me happy.' If The Heidi Chronicles doesn't always translate for the 21st century, maybe we should be happy, too. Isn't that a sign that some things have gotten better? B+

Roland, a beekeeper -- a job that exists only in Metaphorical Theater -- isn't so sure. 'If everything I'm ever gonna do already exists,' he asks, 'what's the point?' You may wonder the same thing watching Payne's thought-provoking but flawed 70-minute puzzler. Despite a radical structure -- the standout scene is performed in sign-language -- it's too much like something we've seen before. The time-is-a-flat-circle conceit has been overplayed in pop culture of late...Wilson is brilliant, dramatically altering key moments with the tiniest of inflections, and Gyllenhaal brings psychological depth to Roland. But that subtlety is upended by a heavy-handed finale, which is less an emotional breakthrough than philosophical trickery. While you're waiting for Constellations to grab and shake you, it's trying to lick its own elbows.

It's a shame, then, that this musical doesn't give Davies much to work with other than her phenomenal voice. Written and directed by Randy Johnson, Night focuses on Joplin's musical icons - Bessie Smith (Taprena Michelle Augustine), Nina Simone (de'Adre Aziza), Etta James (Nikki Kimbrough), and Aretha Franklin (Allison Blackwell) - without revealing much about their influence beyond the fact that sheplayed that record until she wore it out, man. There's no trace of Joplin's juicy life - no gossip about what happened backstage at Woodstock or the Monterey Pop Festival, nothing about the night she allegedly broke a beer bottle over Jim Morrison's head, or her romance with Leonard Cohen, who later memorialized their relationship in the ballad 'Chelsea Hotel.' Instead, Johnson strings together broad clichés from her childhood memories, with Joplin's character insisting that women feel the blues more acutely than men, and that fans love blues singers more after they're dead. During one night of previews, an audience member audibly gasped 'Aww!' after the latter line, apparently unaware that Joplin died of a heroin overdose in 1970.