Steven Suskin

Boy meets girl on a deserted road in Depression-era West Dallas, and sooner than you can say 'Warren Beatty,' they're rolling in the hay -- or rather, the dust. Seeing as how his name is Clyde and hers is Bonnie, the eventual outcome is no surprise here, and indeed the dead-end story trajectory grows burdensome, as does the fact that unschooled white-trash gunslingers generally aren't loquacious enough to steal the spotlight. For all that, three exciting performances and a better-than-usual score from Frank Wildhorn combine to make this an arresting if problematic new musical.

'Old folks sit around by the television set, sighing one perpetual sigh,' according to Kander and Ebb's song 'Old Folks,' which opens the second act of 'An Evening With Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin.' LuPone and Patinkin are certainly not old folks, except perhaps to theatergoers in their teens or 20s, and they are still vibrant performers. But the atmosphere of 'old folks' -- and a nostalgic, sit-around-with-friends-in-the-living-room feeling -- permeates the affair. Pleasant and sweet are not words you might ordinarily associate with these two, but their Broadway concert is both.

Superlatives are superfluous regarding 'Hugh Jackman Back on Broadway,' which the song-and-dance man-turned-movie star has brought to the Broadhurst for 10 weeks. Jackman could at this point likely sell out any show on sheer force of celebrity, but as it turns out, his vehicle is up to his talents. The evening, seemingly assembled out of the star's grab-bag of song favorites, demands Jackman's all, and he surpasses expectations.

Strongest aspect of the affair is the casting: This 'Godspell' is especially well sung. Standing out are Lindsay Mendez (on 'Bless the Lord' and elsewhere) and Telly Leung (on 'All Good Gifts'). The one big letdown comes from Hunter Parrish, the Jesus of the occasion. Parrish has an innocent smile, big blonde hair, and plenty of teeth; he doesn't look like a Ken doll, exactly, but he sings like one. Wallace Smith, as John/Judas, is marginally stronger but not up to the level of the ensemble. One of the surprising bright spots is the entr'acte reprise of 'Learn Your Lessons Well,' sung by Leung (at piano) with Mendez and Smith. Yes, there is an audience for this 'Godspell,' and perhaps they can be reached. But the strengths of the original have been so weighted down by mirthless improvements that it makes for a very long two hours.

The Stephen Sondheim and James Goldman's 'Follies,' when done right, is one of the glories of the American musical. The new revival, a transfer from the John F. Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., is done right...The stars are supplemented by a crowd of featured ladies whom Sondheim provides solo spots in which to shine, and shine they do.

The 2010-2011 Broadway season wisps to a close with 'The People in the Picture.' Holocaust-themed song-and-dancer is a thoroughly earnest endeavor, but earnestness doesn't necessarily ensure entertainment. Donna Murphy works extra hard as a glamorous Polish actress-turned-doddering Jewish grandmother, but to little avail.

Imagine 'Jersey Boys' without the carefully integrated character development of Frankie Valli and Bob Gaudio, and with a tunestack only one quarter as imperishable. You needn't imagine it; just wander to the Broadhurst for 'Baby It's You!,' the new jukeboxer outlining the rise and demise of the Shirelles...Leavel ('Drowsy Chaperone') does all she can with the leading role, but the authors make impossible demands.

Whoopi Goldberg looms large over the new musical comedy 'Sister Act,' and that's part of the problem. While she co-produced, Goldberg isn't onstage, and the outsized sense of hilarity mixed with humanity she brought to the 1992 motion picture is sorely missed. Patina Miller makes an altogether impressive Broadway debut as diva-on-the-run Deloris Van Cartier, singing up a veritable storm, but the decision to plaster Goldberg's name on numerous signs outside the theater raises comparisons that flatter neither Miller nor this garish production.

There is a distinct lack of wonder in 'Wonderland,' the new Frank Wildhorn musical at the Marquis. Unless one was to wonder how a big, Broadway musical based on Lewis Carroll's wildly inventive and delectably fantastical characters can be so utterly devoid of the aforementioned elements. Or to wonder why -- after a full-scale 2009 presentation in Tampa Bay and Houston -- the producers saw fit to remount this less-than-scintillating, $15 million tuner on Broadway.

Strongest contribution is from the music department, with a big band sound coming from alive-and-onstage band. Conductor John McDaniel presides from a perch in the stage right corner, bobbing along to swinging orchestrations by Shaiman and Larry Blank. That musical sound and the perfs from Butz and Tveit (with assists from the briefly seen Butler and Hart) offer considerable entertainment value. Sadly, though, this 'Catch' of the day is not especially compelling.

Why, one wonders, should Roundabout see fit to trot out 'Anything Goes,' the frequently produced 1934 musical chestnut? Turns out it has a compelling reason: Sutton Foster. She doesn't just deliver those Cole Porter hits, she knocks 'em out of the park. Joel Grey gives his happiest performance in years as Public Enemy #13, and director-choreographer Kathleen Marshall has a field day, outdoing herself with several rousing dance numbers. This new 'Anything Goes' is a daffy, shipshape romp.

Radcliffe, the 21-year-old Brit who spent half his life as Harry Potter before starring in 'Equus' at the West End and on Broadway, has undergone a crash course in singing, dancing and mugging. Turns out he is proficient at the first, surprisingly adept at the second and especially good at the third.

Given the key contributors that 'South Park' creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone teamed with for their first Broadway outing, one might expect 'The Book of Mormon' to show the influences of 'Spamalot' and 'Avenue Q.' As it happens, this raucously funny new show surpasses both of those Tony winners, and handily so: Every song enhances the hilarity, expert staging heightens every gag, and the cast of fresh faces is blissfully good. Broadway hasn't seen anything like it since Mel Brooks came to town with 'The Producers,' only 'Mormon' has better songs.

Priscilla, a tricked-up tour bus with a shoe on the roof, rolls onto the stage of the Palace Theater to roars from the audience, and proceeds to turn, twist and light up pink and purple. And then does it again (and again and again). So goes the brashly good-natured Aussie musical to which the bus lends its name, 'Priscilla Queen of the Desert,' which, born from Stephan Elliott's 1994 film, seems destined to follow the path of 'Mamma Mia!' Inartful here, crass there, this rollicking crowdpleaser in sequins nonetheless packs enough heart to leave the masses enthralled.

Broadway producers have been trying for years to come up with durable seasonal programming: family-suitable musicals that can be pulled out of the warehouse every November, recast as necessary, and play two sold-out months with minimal effort. This biz plan hasn't quite worked for such efforts as 'White Christmas' and 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas,' but the producers of 'Elf' just might have found the key. Based on the 2003 New Line comedy starring Will Ferrell (which grossed some $220 million), this tuner is happy enough for families, savvy enough for city kids and plenty smart for adults.

Show has been slickly staged by director Alex Timbers, who after a long career in the downtown theater made a dynamic Broadway debut four weeks ago as author/director of 'Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson.' Actors, voices, and video are well integrated; the last include a very funny mock-authentic film on lunchroom manners, featuring a humongous slice of chocolate cake, and a stop-motion clay animation cartoon from Nick Park of 'Wallace and Gromit' fame. However, there are moments -- like when, after almost an hour, Reubens spends two minutes blowing up and deflating a balloon -- when the ninety-minute show seems like it will never end.

The recipe for gazpacho is scrawled large across the curtain at Lincoln Center Theater's 'Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown.' Like the dish in question, the new Almodovarsical is refreshing, peppery and palate-cleansing, but it is still, in the end, cold tomato soup -- invigorating and highly spiced, but not satisfying enough for a full meal or a full evening's entertainment. Tuner is blessed with some delicious performances and any number of items of interest, but the result can be summed up as women (and men) on the verge of a coherent musical.

The cast is terrific. Any qualms about the replacement of the actor who played main defendant Haywood Patterson at the Vineyard are dispelled early on by Joshua Henry (from last season's 'American Idiot'). Henry is very good here; so is 80-year-old veteran John Cullum, who struts through the affair as the Interlocutor with a benevolent smile tinged with snarling condescension. (Cullum might have remembered some of the trial as a child growing up in the South during the six years of Scottsboro trials.)

The Beatles are back -- or at least the Beatles tribute band Rain, which has been singing the songs and donning the costumes for more than 25 years. Troupe has finally brought its act to Broadway with a concert playing 12 weeks at the Neil Simon, filling a scheduling vacuum prior to the March previews of 'Catch Me If You Can.' Show should find enough diehard Beatles fans to fill the seats and sell the souvenirs, although there is little of the excitement or danger of the original foursome, or much electricity, either.

With their bloody-good 'Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson,' director-librettist Alex Timbers and composer-lyricist Michael Friedman have woven a scathing and topical satire on matters patriotic and political, and they've done it with the sound of emo rock, which might be hard to swallow for some traditional theatergoers. Downtown hit could prove a tough sell in a Broadway house, but the show's commercial producers have demonstrated keen marketing in the past, with diverse fare including 'Spring Awakening' and 'August: Osage County.' Word of mouth will loom large with this one.

We've seen any number of stage attractions derived from motion pictures, and some of these have incorporated actual footage -- either vintage or shot-to-order -- into the proceedings. But Broadway doesn't seem ever to have seen live actors interact with, and actually step directly into, the movie.Kneehigh Theater's production of Noel Coward's 'Brief Encounter' might lose some of its impact in its relatively large Main Stem house, especially on the extreme sides and in the mezz; previous runs in London and Brooklyn played venues that were well under 500 seats. Even so, the play should get a warm reception here.

In the opening scene of the charmingly frenetic philosophical/autobiographical rumination-with-songs, 'Everyday Rapture,' Sherie Rene Scott classifies herself as 'one of Broadway's biggest, brightest semi-stars.' Not anymore, lady. Here is Scott, also transferred from Second Stage. She is not merely carrying this enchanting carnival -- coauthored by herself -- on her more than capable shoulders; she is the show.

Director/choreographer Rob Ashford is less resourceful than usual and only intermittently effective; his big idea here seems to be to add dancers doing the frug in the background. It is not Ashford's fault that Michael Bennett's original staging of 'Turkey Lurkey Time,' the big first-act production number, is easily viewable on the Internet; but it is that energy and humor that is altogether missing from the current staging.

One sometimes wonders what the notoriously exacting Sondheim privately thinks of the many revues and revivals of his work that come along. No worry here; 'Sondheim on Sondheim' is engrossingly entertaining and thoroughly captivating. An enchanting, warm and provocative opportunity to hear not only Sondheim's songs but -- literally -- the master's voice.

Dramaturgy aside, 'American Idiot' comes dressed in an exciting and impressive production. Mayer's set designer, Christine Jones, has contrived a monumental space flanked by towering postered walls incorporating 43 busily working video monitors. There is also a metal staircase to the stars, or the flies of the St. James, which is only half used by the director; the two upper landings are reserved for the violinist and the violist, who must get pretty lonely up there. Mayer and Jones have been joined by video designer Darrel Maloney and lighting designer Kevin Adams to create what might be termed a 'really big show.'