Who would have figured that a musical of The Silence of the Lambs would end up one of the best movie-to-musical transfers in recent memory?...Silence! produces more belly laughs than I thought possible...The humor never gets old. Gattelli’s staging is so perfectly pitched and paced that the show never feels overlong or even dull. In fact, it goes by so quickly that you almost want it to run longer....Silence! deserves to run at Theatre 80 for as long as possible. If only all movie-turned-musicals were this good. (Read Full Review)

[A] gut-wrenching, funny-devastating new drama...Charlie [is] played by the towering giant of an actor Shuler Hensley in a truly amazing performance...Under the unflinching direction of Davis McCallum, The Whale is a harrowing, whole tissue box experience, as raw as pulling off a band aid, in your face and uncomfortable to watch (in the best way possible). The company he has assembled to bring Hunter’s unsettled territory to life is better than first-rate. (Read Full Review)

As beautifully played by Plunkett, Barbara's agonizing grief and guilt at the decision to put her uncle away is palpable even from the furthest point in the house. The actress expertly conveys, through facial expressions, body language, and a slightly quivering voice, the soul-wrenching realization that you no longer have the ability to care for the person who took care of you. (Read Full Review)

In Dexter Bullard's breakneck production (with a nifty, messy set by Tom Burch), Shannon, thoroughly mesmerizing in his madness, delivers one of the best and most well-thought-out performances I've seen all year. He makes Felix, a creature who could easily be devoid of pity, pitiful and charismatic. He even makes the sudden tonal shift at the very end—the major pitfall of Wright's script—seem natural. Mierka Girten has a nice little cameo as the put upon Esther and puppeteer Sam Deutsch imbues the wide-eyed fish with a full personality. (Read Full Review)

I'd be lying if I didn't cop to having chills when Reubens appeared on stage. I'd be lying even more if I said my eyes didn't widen, like a child in a store filled with the greatest toys ever, when the curtain rose on David Korins's extraordinary set, a more technical, 2010 adaptation of Gary Panter's original "Pee-wee's Playhouse" design, bathed in Jeff Croiter's bright, candy-colored lighting. For the next 80 minutes, Reubens ran wild, like no time had passed...Timbers, who no doubt grew up with the show as I did, gets the humor, knows how to deal with it, and guides with an invisible hand. (Read Full Review)

The acting is particularly superb, and, more now than in the first play, they are fully convincing as a family. Hensley mesmerizes in a long monologue about Broadway’s Belasco Theatre and its ghosts, while DeVries is similarly mesmerizing in a monologue about the ghosts of his past. Robins is gut-wrenching as the quietly grieving mother, and Sanders, Plunkett and Smith-Cameron are excellent but with less to do. (Read Full Review)

Through the lens of her favorite sitcoms from the '60s, '70s, and '80s, comedienne Judy Gold gives us an anthropological tour of her life in her uproarious new comedy The Judy Show: My Life as a Sitcom. The 80-minute monologue, co-written with Kate Moira Ryan and directed by Amanda Charlton, will no-doubt delight Gold's voracious fan base (out in full-force at the performance I attended) and probably gain her some new fans, as well. (Read Full Review)

This strange performance piece-cum-therapy session, an hour in duration, was as cathartic for me as it was, no doubt, for them. I just wish it was longer.
(Read Full Review)

It is a performance I will never forget. (Read Full Review)

A fiercely intelligent and damn insightful comedy that examines stances on feminism through the years in the guise of compelling, flawed, human characters...Gionfriddo ingeniously structures the work so that all the necessary exposition springs from the discussions within Cathy’s course...Peter DuBois' direction keeps the play moving along when it could easily get bogged down in discussion...There is no question that Rapture, Blister, Burn is a significant contribution to the American dramatic canon, especially when placed in conversation with the work of Wendy Wasserstein. (Read Full Review)

Addressing World War II, It was written in 1964, a number of years after the war had ended. And yet it feels strikingly relevant today. Especially in Amy Wright's emotionally charged production for the Pearl Theatre Company...Once again, the Pearl proves itself indispensable. Artistic director J.R. Sullivan has had a great first season, and their new digs at City Center proved to be a great fit. I can't wait 'til next season. (Read Full Review)

Family dysfunction and discord is nothing new to the stage, but Ahonen, one of the co-founders of the genius up-and-coming theater troupe The Amoralists, takes it to brand new, shockingly original heights...Ahonen's vivacious, outrageously funny script perfectly matches his vivacious, outrageously funny production. There's a lot of screaming, a LOT of screaming, but the performances are solid, especially the vigorously physical work of Amoralist co-founder Matthew Pilieci, clad only in a Mickey Mouse nightgown (costumes by Ricky Lang) as Barry...What I liked best about Amerissiah was that, for the first time in a long time, I walked out of the theatre ready to have a discussion. (Read Full Review)

Bradshaw brilliantly uses incestuous necrophilia, castration, and a profoundly well-placed fart joke to bring Job’s story into the theatrical realm. Punchy, intelligent, deliberately anachronistic dialogue places the work firmly in the now, despite being set in 513 BC, with characters costumed in togas and tunics (nicely designed by Ashley Farra). In reconciling itself with the past and the present, Job’s story is made all the more immediate. (Read Full Review)

What makes We The People so special is how Iconis and the various songwriters choose to interpret and explain these topics. Hip-hop is used to describe the powers of the Executive, Judicial and Legislative branches...And Iconis, in his signature style, explains the Electoral College in a way that allows even the least experienced voters to comprehend the eternally confusing way the President is elected. For a show written by so many people, there's shockingly little tonal confusion in terms of style, and in Gordon Greenberg's staging there's enough excitement to keep the youngest audience members enthralled...We The People is a treat for everyone. (Read Full Review)

Devastatingly funny...For a world premiere, Oliver's script shows a great deal of promise. Perhaps it's 20 minutes too long. Perhaps not all of the jokes go over as well as they could, but when they do, the laughter is sometimes violent. The ending, a slight left turn from where lovers of Greek tragedy are expecting it to go, is messy and confused, especially when dealing with Elle...Director David Ruttura (who serves as the artistic director of Good Company, the new theatre company that's producing this show) has assembled a pitch-perfect cast that is completely in tune with Oliver's style. (Read Full Review)

What’s constantly exciting about Brunstetter’s plays is how real they are. Her achingly human characters talk as real people do: sometimes clumsily, sometimes awkwardly, sometimes beautifully eloquent. In Widow, her most fully-rounded play to date, her words are alternately hilarious and unbearably sad. The only thing I could have done without were the handful of poop jokes. She’s better than that. (Read Full Review)

As evidenced by his previous plays, including the beautiful Animals Out of Paper, Joseph is a keen observer of human behavior and speech. Not only do his characters seem real, they speak as real people would. Doug and Kayleen are not the most educated or erudite, and their vocabulary, consisting of “stupid,” “retarded,” and a certain four-letter word, reflect their worldly stations. That they are not the most developed characters is this play’s one major flaw, and lesser actors could easily turn in less-than-believable performances. (Read Full Review)

In terms of self-satisfaction, the Alceste and Celimene of Sean McNall and Janie Brookshire are a perfect match. McNall is all gloom as the idealistic misanthrope of the title, with a world-weary voice and tired, pitiful sighs. Brookshire, ravishing in Sam Fleming’s period costumes and Gerard Kelly’s wig, is a woman all too pleased to get by on her wiles. She is particularly striking in the play’s final minutes, as a look of shame, horror, and embarrassment overtakes her porcelain face to create a gaze that is particularly haunting. (Read Full Review)

Lear deBessonet's astounding production presents a captivating rendering of the 1943 social comedy that not only removes the work from the dusty academic bookshelf, but speaks to the contemporary world. Using a dexterous translation by late Brecht scholar John Willett and theater techniques ranging from kabuki to musical theater, deBessonet's fast-paced and engaging production throbs with ache and sadness even in its most over-the-top moments (and, yes, there are a handful of those behind the tin can footlights). (Read Full Review)

Harrison’s concept is so entertaining, out-of-the-box and well-constructed that it can be forgiven for any shortcomings, like an a-ha moment that isn’t entirely surprising, and a second act that takes too long to conclude. And since he defines his terms up front, there are absolutely no questions of logic. (Read Full Review)

Joe Iconis is the best musical theatre writer that the public has never heard of...He writes smart, hummable music and has a talented posse of actors who do his stuff called the Family...It is the melodramatic violence, spurting blood, Wild West setting, and a few pseudo-Mexican characters that qualifies Bloodsong to be a Spaghetti Western...The cast couldn't be better...The script could use a little bit of cutting; the second act feels too long. And there is a lot of blood. (Read Full Review)

Silverstein’s pacing is pitch perfect, and even though the final confrontation doesn’t build as well as it needs to, it still hits you like a ton of bricks. (Read Full Review)

Immensely satisfying...With a keen ear for ornate, highly theatrical, and modern human vernacular, Moses has created a most realistic portrait of the struggle for romantic connection in the computer age. (Read Full Review)

In his delightful new solo show, All the Rage, … [Martin]Moran documents his quest for spiritual enlightenment…Sending the audience on a journey from New York to Africa to the stage of the Shubert Theatre and the A-Train, All the Rage has the potential to seem messily unfocused, but it's that exact quality, along with Moran's dry sense of humor and unassuming manner, that puts the show above other solo works of this nature, many of which easily fall into dramatic sob-fest territory. Moran and his quest to find anger is a surprisingly hilarious journey, and it's through that humor that unexpected pathos hits. (Read Full Review)

This existential nightmare [Animals and Plants], a riff on Harold Pinter’s The Dumb Waiter, is made even more uncomfortable by your proximity to the actors... It’s an intense, heart-pounding experience that, if you completely buy into it, will leave you shaking... The performances are first-rate and very daring... While both Ahonen and Rapp could afford to pick up the pacing of their respective plays... the nearly four hours you spend in the company of this crazy group fly by. And you may just end up realizing that voyeurism isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. (Read Full Review)

Few things are more exciting to theatre lovers than the prospect of a very fine actor taking on a daunting role and performing it so exquisitely that it seems as natural as breathing. Such is the case with Jan Maxwell, delivering a 65-minute tour-de-force, with a great deal of skill and care, in John Doyle's revival of Arthur Kopit's brief 1978 drama Wings at Second Stage Theatre. (Read Full Review)

With their numerous environmental, site-specific and/or non-traditionally staged productions, The Transport Group regularly explores the question of “How close is too close?” to varying degrees of success. With Jack Cummings III’s entrancing staging of Michael John LaChiusa’s musical Hello Again, the answer only depends on how squeamish you are...Chances are the actors will be copulating—simulated, of course—right on top of you....Collectively, this ensemble dives head first into LaChiusa’s haunting score, performing it with a fearless gusto and passion....Depending on where you’re seated, you may have to crane your neck here and there or twist and turn for views of the action on the other side of the room. Still, with Sandra Goldmark’s immersive set, R. Lee Kennedy’s evocative dive bar lighting, and Kathryn Rohe’s oft-sexy costumes, you may just have a craving for a cigarette when you hit the street. (Read Full Review)

Really entertaining. A great American play it's not; far from it. But it's a well-intentioned diversion that knows its audience and delivers what it promises: "a sinfully entertaining play about freedom"...The first act, which contains a reenactment of filming Deep Throat, in complete sync with the actual film as it's projected on the upstage wall, is deliriously entertaining; despite the B-movie dialogue and jokes that weren't funny in the '70s. The second act becomes unexpectedly serious, and that's where the script's weaknesses are the most prevalent. There is a lack of suspense and development and the stakes aren't nearly as high as they should be...The cast, led by the mesmerizing Malcolm Madera as Reems, gives this show their all, and then some. (Read Full Review)

This compelling theatrical experience weaves together dozens of characters, fact, fiction, Christmas carols, spirituals, and Civil War songs into an unapologetically messy -- richly crafted -- patchwork quilt... Tina Landau's staging, which utilizes a bare, wood-planked set by James Schuette, Toni-Leslie James' lovely costumes, and shadowy lighting by Scott Zielinski, is smooth and swift, despite occasionally confusing double and triple casting, a necessity for a small production with a cast of characters as large as this. (Read Full Review)

Farhad or The Secret of Being, directed by Saheem Ali, is not only the most intriguing of the three pieces, it is the only one that could actively benefit from being expanded into a full-length musical. Featuring a book and lyrics by Pulitzer Prize winner Nilo Cruz and music by Jim Bauer, the work stars Arielle Jacobs as the titular character, a young Afghan girl who, after spending most of her childhood living as a boy (which she does for the opportunities that come with being a male in that country), must transition back into her female self in order to be married off to a much older man. In its own way, Farhad is just as much of a psychological study as Arlington, but here we watch sadness and anger grow into hope and acceptance. Cruz doesn't shy away from the important questions raised by the story, such as Farhad's concern that her Almighty won't recognize her as a woman or why women in Afghanistan are treated with such disrespect. (Read Full Review)

That Martin’s rise and fall parallels that of another famous figure who died for other people’s sins is a topic I wish Ayckbourn would have explored a little less under-the-cuff. Yet Neighbourhood Watch is so expertly acted that the sins of the playwright are easy to forgive. (Read Full Review)

...this revival is dominated by Wolfe's star-making performance... importantly, Wolfe manages to make the character human... As Jamie, Kantor chooses a darker, more demure route... This subdued quality is not always right for the character... Jon Weston's sound design impressively allows every instrument to be heard... Jeff Sugg's projections are distracting and Emily Rebholz's costumes generally unflattering. Brown has directed a sensitive, if a bit too literal, production... Most importantly, this good-natured staging makes a case for The Last Five Years as a show, not just a song cycle that works better on disc. (Read Full Review)

This mammoth, day-long, meticulously acted three-parter is probably the most fascinating production currently in town...If you can only attend one portion, I’d recommend the second, though each contains its share of beautifully crafted performances..Audience members should note that the production contains a multitude of very sudden loud noises, including bombs dropping and gun shots. (Read Full Review)

On the heels of their excellent revival of Michael John LaChiusa’s Hello Again in a warehouse in SoHo, Transport Group has once again proved that energizing theater need not be in a traditional space. (Read Full Review)

Cullman ably guides his company through the farce-like proceedings (only instead of doors to slam on David Korins’s ornate and nicely colorless set, there are telephones to answer) with the right amount of vigor and pathos. Near-Verbrugghe, Rosoff and Kim range from funny to hilarious, while Steggart expertly captures the cold, unfeeling nature of a guy who won’t let anything stand in his way as he moves up the ranks from intern. As Nick, Esper infuses the character with the right amount of slacker heart and pride. Whenever rebuked and insulted by Weisinger for a mistake, you can tell just by his facial expressions that it does a number on his self-esteem. Kull is downright sensational as Nora, the bright-eyed twentysomething who ends up tired, work-obsessed, and losing control of her sanity. In her hands, it’s nothing short of thrilling to watch Nora’s devolution. (Read Full Review)

Revues such as this can easily devolve into cheese, but despite one instance towards the end and some occasionally eye-rolling choreography by the usually reliable Lorin Latarro, Zippel keeps that from happening. And while the stage isn’t large enough to keep the performers from occasionally knocking into one another and Douglas W. Schmidt’s bandstand set, they certainly shine like the Broadway stars they are...What disappointed me was the lack of diversity. Of the 30-odd songs, more than 20 were written in collaboration with either Carolyn Leigh or Zippel...Still, The Best is Yet to Come is a more-than-enjoyable way to spend an afternoon, with martini or without. (Read Full Review)

All of the booze in New York wouldn’t have been enough to prepare me for Lucky Guy...Contains some of the most awesomely awe-striking badness you’ll ever see. And it’s in this badness that the show proves mightily entertaining...The book scenes don’t really work; they’re too long, duller than dull, and only seem to serve as set up for songs. Luckily, Beckham’s score is stronger, jaunty and hummable in the way that most simple country melodies are. The lyrics are comical, in many cases for the wrong reasons...Lucky Guy’s greatest asset is that absolutely nothing is taken seriously. (Read Full Review)

This incisive and thoroughly compelling new tragicomedy confronts both the economic meltdown and the perils of being friendly with your neighbors in surprising, brutally honest ways that we rarely see...Of the performers, only Sokolovic seems completely comfortable in her character’s skin, and as a result, her big, broad performance with well-earned laughs was the only one that really stood out...Not everything is perfect. A climactic drunk scene and heavy-handed dialogue about dreams wouldn’t stand out like they do as playwriting 101 if the rest of the text wasn’t so insightful...Even so, D’Amour taps into a fear that almost every middle class and blue collar working American share today. (Read Full Review)

While I still can’t bring myself to call it neglected, Jenn Thompson’s beautifully conceived revival at the Beckett Theatre on Theatre Row, which features seven tip-top performances and slight revisions with permission of the playwright, captures the play’s humor and its deeply wounded, yet thoroughly thumping heart. (Read Full Review)

It's no easy task to do what Jenkins and Stanton do. They run wild and are simply outrageous. Director Carl Forsman and choreographer Tracy Bersley guide them with a restrained hand, staying just the right drop out of their way. I don't know if the script has been altered, I seem to remember a slightly different opening and ending, though. But my favorite line, a joke at the expense of the Manhattan Theater Club, is still there. And it, along with almost every facial expression and action, brings down the house. (Read Full Review)

More often than not, Petruchio is portrayed as a chauvinistic lothario, and it’s almost expected that he’ll be a matinee idol in the style of Peter O’Toole, Richard Burton, and Alfred Drake (in the musical adaptation Kiss Me, Kate), among others. If you’ve seen Grotelushcen in the past (most recently as Cloten in Fiasco Theatre’s Cymbeline), you know that he will subvert these expectations. Tall, scruffy, and a bit rotund, his Petruchio is, in Anita Yavich’s lovely, character-specific costumes, a foppish, witty gasbag who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and who sees in Katharina someone who can match him note-for-note. (Read Full Review)

Under Cantor's superb direction, the four-member cast expertly navigates the play's tricky terrain, nailing the awkwardly comic moments as well as the underlying sadness in each character's life. It's a bit unfortunate, then, that Levenson's play seems so familiar. (Read Full Review)

Delightful yet mechanical revival...As far as musical comedies go, this is the tops. Frank Loesser’s score is effervescent and Abe Burrows, Jack Weinstock, and Willie Gilbert’s book is impeccably structured and, despite a healthy dose of light satirical misogyny, surprisingly timeless. Ashford displays a stronger grasp and trust of the material here than he did last season with Promises, Promises...It is over-choreographed. In fact, the dancing is almost non-stop. The ensemble is more than up to the task, but it’s distracting to the world around them and the sterling dialogue and lyrics...Radcliffe’s not a natural for the role, but he’s so winning that he ranks on the list just under Harry Connick, Jr. and Kelsey Grammer as most impressive musical debuts. Individually, the entire cast is quite strong, but what they collectively lack is chemistry (yeah, chemistry…oops, wrong Loesser show). (Read Full Review)

Last up is the most satisfying, most complete work, The Midnight Caller, once a teleplay that was later turned into a work for the stage. Set in the 1950s in a boarding house run by Mrs. Crawford (Foote again, in a less showy role), the piece finds the stasis of the home—and its tenants (Mary Bacon, Green, and Jayne Houdyshell) disturbed by the howling of a depressed man (Cendese) calling for his former fiancée (Jenny Dare Paulin), who has now moved in as a tenant and taken a new boyfriend of her own (Bobb). Here the production falters a bit; MacKinnon's staging has a sort of disjointed feeling, not really managing to blend the humorousness of Bacon and Green's unmarried ladies with the sadness of Paulin and Cendese, and only the heartbreaking Houdyshell finds the full range of emotions. (Read Full Review)

You'd be hard-pressed to find a more suitable cast than the one assembled for Tony Walton's revival...It is a very lovely, respectful production with some fine acting...If the production is lacking anything, it's a bit of oomph here and there...But there's enough in this enjoyable production that you can look past it. (Read Full Review)

It takes skill to make a play that is entirely confined to a booth seem interesting, and there is considerable skill in Parker’s staging, the performances by the 7-member cast, and in Sherman’s oft-delightful script. While some of the vignettes are strained, or continue a few minutes longer than they should, the dialogue and performances are natural, convincing, and all contribute to Jerry’s growth.
(Read Full Review)

A fascinating, original take on something we've come to see rather often nowadays: the war play...Brunstetter tries to straddle two styles, the domestic comedy and the family drama, with mixed results. In intertwining the styles and trying to fit in all the characters, the play lacks cohesion and focus. Any point she may be trying to get across is unclear, but Oohrah! succeeds as a slice-of-life piece. The ending isn't much of anything and there's not much resolution. But, just as in life, not everything ends tied up with a ribbon. (Read Full Review)

Moscow has never seemed as far away as it does in Austin Pendleton’s production for Classic Stage Company. While Pendleton doesn’t impose any new ideas onto the play, he does create a Three Sisters that is trapped in the past while clinging to the present. The translation used, by Paul Schmidt, is decidedly modern, sacrificing character and florid writing for vernacular like “What the hell?” and “Weird.” The actors, all of whom seem to truly be listening to one another and responding from the heart, wear sumptuous period costumes, designed by Marco Piemontese, while moving and delivering the dialogue as though they’re living in the present day. The staging, with cinematic fluidity and two intermissions (between the first and second acts, as well as between acts three and four), is fascinating...There is a deeply felt sense of resignation that pervades the playing space from the opening moments. (Read Full Review)

Intriguing and flawed...The text itself is fascinatingly laid out, a series of dialogue scenes interspersed with lyrical monologues that you soon realize are excerpts from the father’s journals. As staged by Evan Yionoulis, it doesn’t always play as well as it might read...The larger problem is that Foote gradually builds the piece to a climax that isn’t really sufficient...Hallie Foote is monumentally tremendous...While Him isn’t perfect, it’s a compelling piece from a playwright whose work I’m looking forward to seeing more of. (Read Full Review)

Compared to others I've seen...there's nothing particularly special in Sullivan's staging. It's accessible, straightforward, and respectful. While it may not be a Twelfth Night for the ages, it provides for a most enjoyable theatrical experience, the way only a show at the Delacorte Theater can...Sullivan's risklessness with Cumpsty and Esparza is visible in their performances. As a result, Cumpsty's Malviolio is ineffective, drawing neither hatred nor pity. The role, a highlight in many productions, is rendered superfluous. Esparza has some nice moments as Orsino, but nothing is done to make the character look three-dimensional...Sir Toby Belch and Maria have the most developed relationship here that I've ever seen, with White almost tackling Sanders with a kiss the first time they're on stage together. They, along with Hamish Linklater's pratfalling Sir Andrew Aguecheek, provide the bulk of the comedy and their scenes, accordingly, are highlights. For what is essentially her professional theater debut, Hathaway acquits herself well. Her Viola is well thought-out and has very nice chemistry with McDonald's glorious Olivia. (Read Full Review)

The biggest problem is its book and score, though audiences don’t go to Cirque shows for their plots. Zarkana, written and directed by Francois Gerard with a score by Nick Littlemore, is basically incomprehensible...But the production comes to exhilarating life in the death-defying acts of derring-do, from high-wire walkers to grand Volant (trapeze) artists. A blonde gymnast with strikingly toned leg muscles somersaults in the air and lands perfectly on a balance beam. Two men perform truly jaw-dropping feats on the wheel of death. A pair of tightrope walkers carry, by their shoulders, a third who’s walking his own tightrope. Of course there are nets, some of which are visible, but I often felt that queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watched in agony and ecstasy the acrobats perform these feats without batting an eyelash. (Read Full Review)

Credit must be given to Arbus for the clarity of the plot. This is one of the easiest-to-follow productions of a Shakespeare play I've ever seen. And she has assembled an estimable cast, starting with Jefferson Mays (as the Duke), Rocco Sisto (as Angelo), and Elisabeth Waterston (as Isabella). The latter two are disappointingly one-note and colorless; the whole production slows down and becomes dull whenever they're on stage...it is Mays who makes this production. He is positively electric as he lights up the proceedings. And once again, he proves why he is one of the finest actors we have today. (Read Full Review)

Rock of Ages may not be the most sophisticated musical around, but who cares? It doesn't purport or set out to be. (Read Full Review)

The relationship between Asher and Aryeh holds the central tension of the story. While the latter role could easily be played as a stodgy stock villain, in Nelson's hands, the argumentative Aryeh is a complex person: he deeply loves his son, but their relationship is haunted by his unwillingness to overcome his old-world religious obligations. (Read Full Review)

The success of the production, directed without fuss by Mark Brokaw, hinges on whether or not you’re willing to buy into a series of eye-rolling coincidences that make up much of the second act. For the sake of the play, you must, however begrudgingly, and in the end, they don’t add up to much. (Read Full Review)

Bell and Blackwell’s book features the same heart and occasionally dizzying meta-humor which made [title of show] so endearing and, to Berresse’s credit, the piece never feels disjointed. Yet the museum conceit never quite works; despite charismatic voiceover narration by Roger Rees and a nifty set and projections by Neil Patel and Richard DiBella respectively, the setting is both confusing and distancing when it should be as warm and inviting as the performers are. And the writers could afford to explain their easy-to-miss throughline, that they’re going to “open up our mental knapsacks and shake out a few stories,” in greater detail. Bowen’s musical score, which ranges in style from Irish-ish sea shanty to country western to funk, is appealing enough (the lyrics are stronger), but the songs never quite reach the level of his best work, namely [title of show]’s “A Way Back to Then,” one of the most honest-to-god beautiful show tunes in recent memory. (Read Full Review)

The formula is rather simple: story vignette about life, love, death, followed by song, and so on. Because of this, the songs can easily be imagined as radio singles. They're not great songs, but a lot of them are passable (though lyrics like "She's a good ol' girl / And she won't let you down / She's got a picture of Elvis / When he came to her town" feel cringe-worthy to me). There's heart in the stories, but when it comes to profundity, it's Cliff's Notes. There's a downright bizarre vignette set in a nursing home, and one that's equally bizarre involving the film Body Heat. The performers—Lauren Kennedy, Sally Mayes, Teri Ralston, Gina Stewart, and Liza Vann—generally do a good job with the material. (Read Full Review)

It feels like an eternity to get to the play's final moments, when all is revealed and marriages are proposed, though the somber final image encapsulates everything Esbjornson was going for. His intent is commendable and his choices are some of the most daring Shakespeare in the Park has seen in years. If only they worked as a whole. (Read Full Review)

[A] meandering, monologue-heavy, yet occasionally thoughtful piece that will become a big hit in acting classes.... Belber's script is intelligent and mature, though distinctly over-written, and has a great many qualities of a playwright who thinks he's being ironic.... Walsh, who skyrocketed to fame on ABC's Grey's Anatomy and its spin-off Private Practice, does the impossible, making a distinctly unlikable character not only likable, but compassionate. Sparks, an off-Broadway veteran, uses an unflinching monotone to his advantage, creating a character that is both wracked with guilt about the past but hopeful about the future. Director Sam Gold's credible, invisible staging brings out the best in both actors. (Read Full Review)

While McCourt, who died July 19 last year, was a wonderful storyteller and author, his script here, which was first produced at the Irish Rep in 1997 with the same director (Charlotte Moore), is little more than a rough outline of Irish history from "the beginning" to the present. Four actors and two actor/musicians recount stories, quotes, anecdotes, and sing and dance in what amounts to more of a musical revue than anything else. (Read Full Review)

The truth may be stranger than fiction, but the truth is also more interesting than the show Krane and Cole have created, which is entirely based on truth. Perhaps the story just isn’t musical. Perhaps a less clichéd script and lyrics (both by Cole) would elevate The Road to Qatar! from a blandly one-note series of Middle East, gay, and Jewish jokes into something more. Krane’s music, on the other hand, is tuneful and well-orchestrated, and there are at least one or two memorable numbers. (Read Full Review)

If you’re offended by the prospect of women behaving as nothing more than sex objects trying to please their cunning-but-dim men folk, Don’t Dress for Dinner probably isn’t the entertainment for you. If you’re willing to overlook that and dive head first into Camoletti and Hawdon’s gleefully stupid and thoroughly inconsequential world, you’ll probably have a good time, though admittedly, not a great one. (Read Full Review)

Anton Chekhov may have labeled his play The Cherry Orchard as a comedy, yet it’s rare that one actually sees it performed as such. Perhaps that’s why Andrei Belgrader’s production for Classic Stage Company, from a new, colloquial (in a good way) and somewhat edited translation by John Christopher Jones, seems so refreshing and so jarring...Often the humor outweighs the crucial underlying sadness, try as some of the actors might to inject it where they can...Unquestionably, this production of The Cherry Orchard has many excellent moments. I just wish everyone were on the same page. (Read Full Review)

This naturalistic “what if” story about two brothers who willingly take the wrong paths is less well-known than O’Neill’s canonical works, perhaps owing to its inherent quaintness and sudden, oversized emotions. It’s a pleasure, then, to report that Ciaran O’Reilly’s quietly compelling production for the Irish Repertory Theatre not only taps into the play's emotional core, but also its bleak source of laughs. (Read Full Review)

The company members do their best to make the piece coalesce, and some succeed better than others, particularly the brooding Canez, who manages to convey a surprising amount of feeling into a series of downcast glares. The usually reliable Narciso has a hard time making his character’s intentions seems realistic, but that’s less of his problem than it is Coppel’s, who doesn’t seem to know. Still, his sympathetic performance makes a character that could very easily be hated palatable. Romero and Zilles are endearing as Penelope and Jackie, believable as long-standing BFFs, though distinctly unbelievable as teenagers (which in real life, they aren’t). Chimichangas and Zoloft could probably benefit from another rewrite or two. With too much to take in and not enough exploring done, it’s a promising work that just feels unfinished. I wanted more—and I hope one day I get to see it. (Read Full Review)

Dan Wackerman’s current production for The Peccadillo Theater Company is imperfect, though still sufficiently entertaining. (Read Full Review)

You may leave Kate Fodor’s Rx, a comedy about the relationships people have with one another and their pharmaceutical drugs, feeling a bit drowsy. Weariness is indeed a side effect of this over-stuffed new play; so too are restlessness, frustration, and sudden-onset sentimentality. Still, it’s hard not to admire Fodor’s guts, and Ethan McSweeny’s imperfect yet thoroughly balls-to-the-wall direction. (Read Full Review)

As a result, the piece become a make-shift jukebox musical. Some of the songs are flexible enough to withstand Lucas’ reordering—for example, the gloriously beautiful “Come to Jesus” is set against the backdrop of a woman’s abortion either way. Others share the common jukebox musical problem: hard-to-avoid contexts that don’t fit the conceit unless uncomfortably shoehorned into the plot. During “Icarus,” a song about a son trying to get past his well-known father, Steele and Stillman literally strap on wings as the son, flying too close to the sun, ends his life. Later, the jaunty “Sisyphus,” (which features lyrics by Ellen Fitzhugh) becomes the father’s ode to carrying around the boulder of his son’s death. (Read Full Review)

Charming...The casting is peculiarly uneven and Kulick's production takes a long while to kick into high gear...Thompson delivers yet another powerhouse performance. It is impossible to not marvel at his considerable skill. He is not evenly matched by Wiest, who, at least at Saturday's press preview, has not seemed to have decided how to play her character. She's torn between villain and amiable dowager, falling somewhere in the middle...The downside of the production is that, especially towards the end, it just feels too long. The first and last half hours are very poorly paced. Everything in between, however, is being played at the perfect speed. Tolan's translation is a mixed bag; it's too formal to call it colloquial, yet too colloquial to call it formal. (Read Full Review)

Of anything I've ever seen, this is probably the closest exemplification of what the stage version of an indie movie would resemble...The intimacy is palpable, and it fits right in with Baker’s text, which itself fits right in with Chekhov’s...The result is mixed; the text feels a bit stiff in certain spots, but in others, it truly does grasp the dissatisfaction that we all feel throughout our live...Admittedly, the seating got the better of me by the end and my patience started wearing a bit thin. But my restlessness was nothing compared to what was being presented on stage by some of my favorite actors. (Read Full Review)

Bogged down with as many long pauses and silences as Pinter play, Daughter, which is also directed by Ahonen, flounders in its last third, when word of a potential government conspiracy is brought to light. Anything leading to this plot point, as alluded to in program notes by artistic director James Kautz, seems to have largely been removed during the rehearsal process...As excellent as the actors are, director Ahonen doesn’t guide them enough to play this tonal shift believably...Bring Us the Head of Your Daughter has a lot of heart. Ahonen has some fascinating things to say about love, conventional and unconventional, and fame. It just diverges too far from this path. A play that could have a lot of power ends up laying there like a dead housewife. (Read Full Review)

This meticulously acted drama is very much a first play from a promising writer. The dialogue is crisp, there are superb two-or-three-person scenes that will no doubt be used in acting classes, and the characters are juicy. As a whole, though, it is a meandering work that doesn’t add up to much. (Read Full Review)

There’s too much repetition, too many words and phrases that the characters wouldn’t use ... relying way too heavily on Pinteresque silences and pauses where there shouldn’t be any. Described as a "taut psychological thriller," The Good Mother follows the attempts of single mother Larissa (Gretchen Mol) to convince a variety of people that her four-year-old uncommunicative autistic daughter was abused ... by the gay loner goth baby sitter (Eric Nelsen), who happens to be the son of Larissa’s one-time psychologist (Mark Blum). Good? Potentially. (Read Full Review)

Although the production doesn’t work it’s still worthwhile to see. Painting Churches is a true American classic. (Read Full Review)

There are ghosts swirling around the Marquis Theatre, where Michael Grandage’s swiftly paced, deadly serious production of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s Evita opened on April 5, and I’m not talking about spectral presences left over from the revival of Follies that played the house this past fall. These ghosts, depending on how much you find them haunting you, may end up hindering your enjoyment of the great 1976 rock opera about the rise and fall of Argentinean first lady Eva Peron. (Read Full Review)

Michael Parva’s production is an entertaining two-and-a-half hours for lovers of courtroom procedurals; at times, admittedly, it's even riveting. But despite a mostly game cast led by Chad Kimball and Guy Burnet, nothing about Gordon's adaptation makes a case for the work to stand as a stage play. It's not that it's bad—it's just unnecessary... Judging by the collectively gasping audience’s reaction, Murder in the First does have an audience; most likely, I believe, it’s the Law and Order crowd. (Read Full Review)

There are ghosts swirling around the Marquis Theatre, where Michael Grandage’s swiftly paced, deadly serious production of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s Evita opened on April 5, and I’m not talking about spectral presences left over from the revival of Follies that played the house this past fall. These ghosts, depending on how much you find them haunting you, may end up hindering your enjoyment of the great 1976 rock opera about the rise and fall of Argentinean first lady Eva Peron. (Read Full Review)

While it is fascinating to rediscover the searing work, one can't help but wish this generally rudderless production was sharper...Odets' play is an ultra-slow boil, and Hughes' production plods along without picking up much steam. (Read Full Review)

The inherent problem in Auburn’s direction is that, after starting off fairly strong, it veers into soap opera territory. When, towards the end, Hugh announces revelations of his own—and you can predict them—the audience started howling with laughter. Perhaps that’s also a problem with Weller’s script, which doesn't paint portraits of people one cares about. Neither Hugh nor Lindy feels real; just like giant bundles of character traits. (Read Full Review)

Despite recent revisions (the extent of which I cannot speak to), Gurney's play feels awfully dusty, and it has an unfortunate tendency to bluntly overstate symbols and exposition. The characters are stock, the situations are forced, the switching between years is occasionally confusing (given that the actors play their older and younger selves), and a climactic confrontation between young Sam and young Perry is as awkward as it is clunky. (Read Full Review)

Features very impressive acrobatics. But then the characters start talking, and the problems begin...Banana Shpeel, truth be told, is only half bad. For every awe-inspiring specialty act, there's a blatantly unfunny and unoriginal dialogue scene waiting just around the corner...The circus performers do indeed dazzle. Particular stand-outs include foot juggler Vanessa Alvarez, Russian hand balancer Dima Shine (Dimitry Bulkin), hat juggler Le Tuan, and contortion trio Tsybenova Ayagma, Tsydendambaeva Imin, and Zhambalova Lilia...There's also that creepy clown played by Patrick de Valette, a frightening, wire-haired flasher who routinely opens his raincoat to reveal nothing but an emaciated physique and a very tight pair of red underwear. It is disturbing just to recall. (Read Full Review)

I presume Silver chose to focus the second act on Curtis in an effort to show how both the proverbial apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and how his parents have irrevocably screwed him up. Yet, while all the other characters have at least a small modicum of redeeming qualities, Curtis has none. And while Esper’s smug self-satisfaction perfectly suits the character, there’s nothing he can do to get us on his side. On the other hand, Grant provides the emotional center that the play otherwise lacks as the pathetic daughter Lisa. Not only do you actually feel bad for her, but you actually like her, which is more than I can say for any of the others. Latessa has little more to do than look perturbed and swear, but he does both with expert precision. (Read Full Review)

So endearing that it almost makes one forget how lackluster it actually is...The caliber of artists involved with It Must Be Him makes it all the more disappointing that nothing really funny ever happens in this comedy...The cast is led by the great comic actor Peter Scolari, who makes Louie uniquely loveable and plays the role to the hilt, while thoroughly deserving better...Of everything that went on during the show's 75-minute running time, staring at Court Watson's outrageously detailed set was the most interesting. (Read Full Review)

In the three-and-a-half-hour production, there are two major highlights: a dazzling dance sequence in a Parisian bar, and a climactic bull fight in Pamplona. The bull fight, in particular, is intensely creative, with a large folding table representing the bull, manned by an actor chasing the Torero around the stage. Besides those moments, there is little of which to speak. If it was between this and a trip to Spain, I’d choose the latter.
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There are two plays meshed together in Richard Nelson's That Hopey Changey Thing...The first is a funny, rather touching meditation on family and memory. The second is about politics...Were this just a play about family, how they collectively reminisce about their childhood trips, their upbringing, why their father left them, as they try to jog their uncle's memory, it would have been far more enjoyable. Nelson's dialogue is very charming (though none of it sounds particularly natural) and the acting is meticulous...But then they start discussing politics. The nice little family play comes to a grinding halt for a very large chunk in favor of discussions that include, but aren't limited to "Did the world pick on Sarah Palin from the moment John McCain chose her to be his running mate?," "Is Barack Obama an effective president?," "Did Michael Bloomberg buy that extra term?" You could almost hear Nelson ticking each one off the list.

The material shows that the writers are promising, but as a whole, it's a mixed bag. There are a few really nice numbers, the standout being "Alone," a duet for Satan and Louis. Many of Black's lyrics are filled with very simple, cheesy rhymes like "last resort / tech support" and "Valhalla / gala." A lot of Broadhurst's music sounds alike; there isn't very much diversity. The book, written by the two of them, could benefit from some nips and tucks; inside this almost two-hours-and-twenty-minutes presentation, there's a 90-minute intermissionless musical waiting to be freed. Director April Nickell's find-your-light direction doesn't seem to help things. (Read Full Review)

With the exception of one performance, Bush’s revival, which stars Maxwell Caulfield as Julian (the dentist), Lois Robbins as Stephanie (the nurse), and Jenni Barber as Toni (the young thing), is completely colorless. The production smacks of amateur quality, which, given the caliber of talent involved, is all the more distressing. (Read Full Review)

Demme may have a huge screen resume, but he's never directed for the stage before—therein is one of the biggest problems. His staging is so flat, so static, that it makes the 75 minutes of the piece feel like hours. It springs to life—but only for a moment—toward the end. In essence, he has directed this play to an invisible camera, each scene finishing with a slow fade into the next. The performances he draws from the cast fall all over the spectrum. While DeWitt is both unconvincing and one-note on stage, her performance struck me as one that would work particularly well on screen. Gayle and Bernstine are extremely shrill and overwrought, very startling compared to how demure DeWitt is. Only Chalfant delivers a performance fit for the stage, deeply shaded and intelligent. (Read Full Review)

A play about a freewheeling divorcee who is to be remarried to a fellow divorcee but hasn’t gotten over her ex-husband isn’t exactly as provocative as it was at the turn of the last century, when liberated women were few, divorce was still taboo, and the thought of two divorced people marrying one another was practically unheard of... In trying to create a period comedy for contemporary times, Auburn has removed all of the character and commentary (remember, this a racy subject once) from Mitchell’s original text... What he ends up creating is a run-of-the-mill, distinction-free romantic comedy that could just as easily be a vehicle for Jennifer Aniston or Katherine Heigl or Ashton Kutcher. (Read Full Review)

If you're a classic TV fan like Alan, White's Lies is probably the show for you. It's a great sitcom, something that would fit with the likes of ABC's old TGIF or FOX's Sunday lineup. However, it's not a good play. The staging is clever (it is directed by Bob Cline, who treats the piece like a farce), there are a few decent laughs, and the last 20 minutes where all is revealed are quite clever. But, you can see the ending coming from the first few lines. It's just too contrived and unbelievable. (Read Full Review)

As harmless a show as you could possibly find. It certainly entertains—at least, the older matinee ladies around me were entertained. It could be a fairly interesting piece, but chintzy production values (Edward Gaynes and Emily Bettman are the presenters) do the script an extreme disservice, not that the script is all that strong to begin with...Director Pamela Hall's staging, on the extremely cramped stage of the Gaynes-operated St. Luke's Theatre (which it shares with My Big Gay Italian Wedding and Danny and Sylvia), lacks tension and heart. (Read Full Review)

Sellers was a legendarily difficult, egomaniacal person, and Caulfield, skimming the surface of everything, doesn't provide explanation. This leaves Boyle, a very physical actor, and the director Simon Green, to figure it out. Ultimately, it all amounts to mommy issues, and that doesn't explain much of anything. (Read Full Review)

Neil LaBute's plays are best defined by their themes. There are the three about beauty, there's the one about race, there's the 9/11 one, and so on. All of them have a healthy dose of four letter words, misogyny, and arch dialogue. His early plays actually have things to say about their subjects, like The Shape of Things (beauty) and The Mercy Seat (9/11). But in his more recent work, he's become that guy who writes outlines with shocking characters and even more shocking twists at the end. LaBute's newest play, The Break of Noon, confronts a subject he has never tackled before: religion. This confounding outline-without-a-twist—or anything interesting for that matter—is especially disappointing considering his last play in New York, reasons to be pretty, was so strong and effectively pulled him out of his rut of writing ideas that masqueraded as drama and twist endings.
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The thing about Venus in Fur—David Ives's present-set "adaptation" of Leopold Sacher-Masoch's erotic novel of the same title from 1870—is that if the last 45 minutes weren't as mind-boggling as they are, it would be a fascinating, entirely worthwhile piece of theatre. But as it stands, this production at the Classic Stage Company under the direction of Walter Bobbie is only truly worth it for one thing: the performance of a newcomer named Nina Arianda. (Read Full Review)

Sullivan tries very hard to hammer home the idea that the play itself isn't anti-Semitic, but it's the characters that are (in fact, he's quoted in program notes as saying exactly that). Yet Pacino, who played Shylock in Michael Radford's recent film adaptation of Merchant, is at odds with this concept. Shouting and growling and snarling his lines, it's clear that his Shylock is a villain, with little remorse for anything. It's all bluster and no heart, with an amalgamation of Jewish stereotypes: a hunch, a terrible Eastern European-by-way-of-Brooklyn accent, and an unkempt beard. (Read Full Review)

Ebersole & King provide little support for the estimable Taylor & Henry, who themselves can barely make sense of the nothingness of the script. Yet, the difference between Ebersole & King and Taylor & Henry is that the latter, through years and years of experience, know how to make the most of even a black hole. Smith, who has the most developed part, actually has a character to work with. And he's just as good as the legends above the title ... I was confused as to why the play was produced at all. (Read Full Review)

The tears flow fast and furiously on stage...Audience members, however, will find themselves particularly dry-eyed and uninvolved...Originally a one-act, Charlotte’s piece reportedly played a sold-out run last summer. It was Aiello, one of the producers of this production, who convinced her to craft a second half. The result is a pair of roughly forty-minute halves, separated by an unnecessary intermission, that don’t really make a whole. Director Antony Marsellis’s glacial pacing doesn’t help, but neither does Charlotte’s clichéd and banal script. (Read Full Review)

At least Bono and The Edge gave Spider-Man one song with a hook so catchy I can still remember it a year later. The only good song in Ghost is the Righteous Brothers’ hit “Unchained Melody.” Despite their impressive pedigree, song writers Dave Stewart (of The Eurythmics) and Glen Ballard (who has written and produced for Michael Jackson among others) have concocted an unmelodic hodgepodge of sound-alike pop ballads that are only outdone by the torpid, lumpish book by Bruce Joel Rubin (who won an Oscar for the film’s screenplay), and lethargic staging by the usually reliable Matthew Warchus. No, there’s not a good musical anywhere in Ghost, not even in a single second, but it’s certainly a feast for the eyes, with nifty designs and visual effects that keep you glued to the screen—er—stage. (Read Full Review)

I'm conflicted as to whether or not this revised script, well intentioned as it is, actually works. It revels in its stupidity, self-effacing joke after self-effacing joke, sacrificing inspired silliness for easy laughs, but it ends up falling flat. While Pomerantz has some clever directorial touches up his sleeve, the cast seems ill at ease with the material and on the stage. (Read Full Review)

There is a target audience for the 90-minute sex comedy Viagara Falls: The first is the people who find the ideals, sexual habits, and bodily functions of the elderly hysterically funny. The second is all those fans of classic television, the people who gasped with delight when it was announced pre-show that the cast—Bernie Kopell (of The Love Boat fame), Lou Cutell (a character actor best known for playing the proctologist known as "The Assman" on Seinfeld), and Teresa Ganzel (a Johnny Carson gal)—would be taking comments and signing autographs in the lobby afterwards. The third audience is the obsessive theatergoers; the ones who see every show playing in the hopes of finding the next big fat flop. (Read Full Review)