Michael Dale — Theater Critic

Similar to Tennessee Williams' THE GLASS MENAGERIE, Lonergan's touching and humorous piece is a memory play, with the young Daniel occasionally narrating the story to the audience. For twenty-eight years the widowed Gladys has been running a small art gallery attached to a hotel across from Washington Square. It's never done great business, but the owner thought it attracted passers-by. Now he's decided to convert the place into a cafe and has given Gladys two months' notice.

Butterworth takes his time unfolding details of his plot, focusing more on how a continuing political issue affects family dynamics spanning three generations, leading up to a tense and violent conclusion. Under Sam Mendes' empathetic direction, the wonderful ensemble company provides deeply-textured and entertaining performances. Despite the three and a quarter hour length (one intermission and a brief pause) the play flies by.

So canny in its writing and presentation, The Lifespan of a Fact may not only inspire audiences to think more closely about the sources from which they get their news, but maybe even to question the accuracy of the social media memes they've been liking and forwarding.

Director Dan Sullivan's production is fine enough, though the pacing can slack at times when the funnier characters are offstage and the budding romance between Dylan and Eleanor takes over. The Nap may play better in Bean's home country, where audiences members are more likely to have a familiarity with the sport, but even on this shore it's a genial diversion with many good laughs.

Playwright Theresa Rebeck offers her star many such pithy moments in her fact-based comedy/drama Bernhardt/Hamlet. Her explanation as to why a woman would be the most sensible choice to play Shakespeare's 'passionate, confused boy with the mind of a man of forty,' is inarguably logical. Her act one curtain line is a real kicker and there's a glorious scene of intellectual fury as she justifiably chastises a playwright who has written a role for her that he regards as 'the embodiment of female perfection,' but she immediately recognizes as 'some statue for you to throw your genius poetry at.'

Playwright Theresa Rebeck offers her star many such pithy moments in her fact-based comedy/drama Bernhardt/Hamlet. Her explanation as to why a woman would be the most sensible choice to play Shakespeare's 'passionate, confused boy with the mind of a man of forty,' is inarguably logical. Her act one curtain line is a real kicker and there's a glorious scene of intellectual fury as she justifiably chastises a playwright who has written a role for her that he regards as 'the embodiment of female perfection,' but she immediately recognizes as 'some statue for you to throw your genius poetry at.'

Newspaper ads during the play's original run boasted quotes like 'Screamingly Funny,' and 'Lancing Wit,' perhaps luring in hesitant straight ticket-buyers with the promise of a jolly comedy rather than witnessing the self-reflections of members of a group their society has marginalized. While Mantello's immensely engaging production certainly isn't stingy with the laughs, the director also has the liberty to play to a more sympathetic public, allowing the sharp edges to occasionally soften, giving clearer views of what all that laughter was hiding.

Don't expect anything resembling a linear plot inTravesties, which also features Carr's erudite butler (Patrick Kerr), Lenin's harried wife (Opal Alladin) and a giddy pair of ladies named for Wilde's characters Gwendolenand Cecily (Scarlett Strallen and Sara Topham), but a merrily disjointed mix of political, social and artistic commentary flavored with verbal dexterity and tuneful music hall exuberance. If brevity is the soul of wit, then 75 minutes without an intermission might be the soul of absurdist theatre, so at two and a half hours the madness of Travesties can get a little maddening. But stay alert and the charming company will guide you through an evening that can tickle your intellect as well as your funny bone.

From row P of the orchestra section of the cavernous Lyric Theatre, one might feel a bit disconnected from the characters and plot, especially with designer Christopher Jones' skeletal set adding to the hollowness, but admittedly, that might just be the result of my unfamiliarity with the play's backstory. Surely, judging from the enthusiastic responses throughout the two-parter, fans of the books and films were having a blast.

With attitudes, and the language we use to express them, drastically changing in the nearly four decades since Children of a Lesser God first hit New York, the play's criticism of well-intentioned coddling of those of diverse abilities is now pretty much preaching to the choir. The play might be best viewed today as a period piece that helped popularize a way of thinking that is now much more widely accepted.

While Tina Fey is one of the top comedy writers around when it comes to social issues, especially as they affect women, Mean Girls gets off to a shaky start with an overload of gags and quips and not enough emphasis on developing empathy. But the pieces start adding up by act two and her book shifts gears from pleasant to hard-hitting.

While the AIDS epidemic has certainly not been completely conquered, it is no longer the automatic death sentence it was in ANGELS IN AMERICA's mid-1980s setting, so in that respect the play can be seen as a bit of a history lesson. But, as the full title indicates, Kushner uses the plague as means by which to address themes that are still with us today; perhaps most prominently the commercialization of health care, the hypocrisy hidden by elected leaders and the effort to guide the country by religious morals. Is eight hours really enough for all of that?

What goes a long way in making it work is that the authors have managed to craft a plot that almost reasonably connects the pre-existing songs (there are new ones, too) into something resembling an integrated score. Buffett wrote a song about a volcano? Okay, make a character an environment scientist working with volcanic soil. A song about cheeseburgers? Okay, have a character struggling to stay on a diet. A song about being comforted by things like grapefruit and Juicy Fruit? Okay, that's the 'Whistle a Happy Tune' moment. 'Why Don't We Get Drunk (And Screw)'? There's the audience participation number! Wait, the main character needs a philosophy of life song. 'It's Five O'Clock Somewhere'? Perfect!

With the script playing to Rylance's strengths, such as asides to the audience and jolts of anachronistic language played for laughs, the imbalance of power in the two leading roles keeps the piece from fulfilling its high potential. It's nevertheless an enjoyable venture, with the sumptuousness of director John Dove's production helping to mask the flaws. The elegant visuals by designer Jonathan Fensom and costume coordinator Lorraine Ebdon-Price (accented by hair and wigs by Campbell Young Associates), are illuminated by lighting designer Paul Russell with candles placed at footlights and hanging from chandeliers. The playing area is surrounded by two levels of onstage seating for both audience members and music director Robert Howarth's ensemble of musicians playing van Kampen's arrangement on period instruments.

With another author, the 100-minute play might have been shaved down to set up an adventure story of sensational heroism, but the great impact of Kirkwood's drama comes from its naturalism and simple presentation of a moral issue. Hazel and Robin seem like perfectly nice people who lived their lives as products of their generation and now wish to be left alone. But do they owe younger people more than just no longer contributing to what's damaging the world? Is it their responsibility to participate in the struggle to fix what their generation has done?

On paper, The Parisian Woman works pretty well. On the stage of the Hudson Theatre, it's generally a bore, due primarily to the exceedingly bland performance of Uma Thurman as Chloe. Though playing a woman with hedonistic desires and an intellect that sets her two steps ahead of most of the DC players around her, Thurman's uncomplicated performance communicates little beyond surface earnestness. Willimon provides her with good many dry observations and witty remarks that hardly register because the star's subtext-barren readings sap them of their bite.

In Steve Martin's good old fashioned, slam bang Broadway comedy, Meteor Shower, married couple Corky and Norm work hard on communication. Whenever one says or does something that hurts or offends the other, they immediately take a time out to hold hands, look at each other eye-to-eye, and recite their words of healing.

Touted on show's website as 'some of the greatest voices of our generation' (Is Audra McDonald of our generation? How about Marilyn Maye?), Candice Glover ('American Idol' Season 12), Josh Kaufman ('The Voice' Season 6) and Bianca Ryan ('America's Got Talent' Season 1, when she was 11) are, in all seriousness, at least reasonably talented. And again, in all seriousness, this New York theatre critic probably has no business critiquing their vocal capabilities, since they're of a style he rarely pays attention to. But their show is on Broadway, so it's the responsibility of a Broadway theatre critic to see and review it.

As Latin History For Morons now moves to Broadway, the play is pretty much as it was downtown with one very noticeable difference; an extremely angry attack on a president who regularly displays ignorance of the people who originally lived on the land on which the United States of America was placed and who seems nonplussed about the continual hardships Americans in Puerto Rico continue to endure after Hurricane Maria.

Though richly textured dramatically, the mood of the piece is largely introspective until a lively closing jam session that unites the actor/musicians with their non-acting musical colleagues. While THE BAND'S VISIT never preaches its message of human fellowship beyond hostile borders, this final moment is a joyous expression of unity.

Like a Shakespearean history play set during wartime, Junk is loaded with peripheral characters who propel the story forward.Matthew Saldivar is especially effective as Merkin's steely colleague who knows how to get his way. Joey Slotnick also scores as the powerful investor whose disheveled appearance and demeaner contrast with his reputation as The Prince of Darkness.

To call Priestley's play timeless would be too obvious a play on words, but in this time when Americans are wondering which side of the economic ladder their elected officials are favoring, plays like Time and the Conways offer warnings from the past about the possibilities for the future.

More of a political rally than a theatre entertainment, the nearly two hour long intermissionless production, directed by Michael Mayer, is played under the assumption that every attendee wishes to see every member of the current administration out of office yesterday. The Oscar-winning activist documentarian frequently refers to his patrons as 'us' and, at least at Tuesday night's preview, many felt fired up enough to yell out their disapproval of Trump using the kind of language usually reserved for 'Access Hollywood' tour buses. 'Donald Trump outsmarted us all,' is the inconvenient truth he insists his fans accept, pointing out the newbie politician's crafty ability to tell voters in each individual state he sought to capture exactly what they wanted to hear, packaged in easy-to-digest sound bites.

While this is an ensemble play with plenty of richly drawn characters, Kline is the colorful centerpiece, with the star delivering droll John Barrymore-like hamminess to cover his desperate fear of becoming obsolete.

All the context you'll need to deal with at the Lyceum's latest offering, Britain's Mischief Theatre import, The Play That Goes Wrong, is right there in the title. Forgoing pesky details like plot and character development, the two-act evening of visual gags - some worthy of a Mack Sennet silent - pieced together by bits of verbal silliness is one of those endeavors that charges onto the stage as a force of choreographed chaos, bombarding the audience with so many jabs to the funny bone that even if only a third of them strike properly you're in for a sufficient number of laughs.