Cats: The Jellicle Ball review

"Tempress" Chastity Moore in Cats (Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

I expected splendor and spectacle at Cats: The Jellicle Ball, a boisterous reimagining of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, now set in the world of 1980s ballroom culture. What surprised me was how moving this show was in its quieter moments. Whichever you prefer, this is a welcome Broadway revival that may have you rethinking your opinion about the often maligned British composer's place in the Broadway pantheon. 

Seeking to create as immersive an experience as possible, directors Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch and choreographers Omari Wiles and Arturo Lyons stretch a runway out into the first few rows of the orchestra and place seats on the stage as an array of lavishly decked-out dancers vogue, competing for prizes in a competiton that originated in the Black and Latino LGBTQ communities of the 1970s and '80s.

It's a surprisingly good fit for the material, which was adapted from T.S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, and usually features fur-clad performers purring and prancing around the stage. In this version, we're treated to Qween Jean's gorgeous costumes, a mixture of couture and street fashion, which make such great eye candy that they disguise the show's weaker songs. 

Among the standout performers are Sydney James Harcourt, who displays nearly all of his physical assets as the frisky "curious cat" Rum Tum Tugger. Eighty-year-old Broadway legend Andre De Shields commands the stage as Old Deuteronomy, the leader of the felines, and Ken Ard, an original Cats cast member from 1982, returns to Broadway as the evening's DJ.

Veterans of the ballroom scene are also part of the cast. Junior LaBeija delivers a poignant portrayal of the titular character in the touching song "Gus the Theatre Cat," about a trouper looking back on his glory days. And "Tempress" Chastity Moore tackles the iconic role of Grizabella, the "glamour cat" who is no longer a part of the scene. Introduced as a street lady pushing around a shopping cart with her belongings, which include a tarnished trophy, she's a broken soul redeemed when she sings Lloyd Webber's haunting ballad "Memory." 

Even more so than last year's Tony-winning revival of Sunset Boulevard, Cats: The Jellicle Ball casts Lloyd Webber's work in a brilliant new light, and you may never think of the show in the same way again. 

Dog Day Afternoon review

Jon Bernthal and Jessica Hecht in Dog Day Afternoon (Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

Perhaps this was intended to be some sort of immersive theater experience. Because after two hours and 15 minutes of this tepid, misguided stage adaptation of Dog Day Afternoon, I felt like I was being held hostage.

The Broadway version of the searing 1975 film about a bungled bank holdup that turns into a hostage situation has been reworked by Pulitizer Prize-winning playwright Stephen Adly Guirgis; now, instead of being headlined by a young Al Pacino, it's a stage vehicle for TV star Jon Bernthal. In the process, the edgy intensity of the orginal has been sacrificed for comedy and '70s nostalgia, neither of which helps to bolster the story.

Bernthal makes an impressive Broadway debut as the troubled Sonny, smart enough to conceive of a plot to rob a Brooklyn bank, but not wise enough to successfully execute it. He certainly has a more significant role than Ebon Moss-Bachrach, another Broadway newbie, who plays Sonny's more dangerous, gun-toting parter in crime Sal.

The production's best performance comes from John Ortiz, a veteran of Guirgis' plays, which depict the struggles of people on the lower end of the economic spectrum. He's the "good cop," a police detective with the unfortunate name of Fucco, who tries to defuse the situation as amicably as possible. 

In the hands of Bernthal, Guirgis and director Rupert Goold, Sonny comes across as something of a wronged everyman, one whom even his hostages, like Jessica Hecht's head bank teller Colleen, warm to as the crisis wears on one sweltering August day. (Except for an occasional mention, the heat never seems to be an issue.) But I couldn't wait for Spencer Garrett's FBI agent to swoop in and rescue the people whose lives were endangered just because they were doing their jobs.

It's rare for a Broadway show that's not a musical to have a cast of 20 strong. Too bad they're not better utilized.  

Every Brilliant Thing review

Daniel Radcliffe in Every Brilliant Thing (Matthew Murphy)

You can't claim to have a comprehensive list of brilliant things unless Daniel Radcliffe's name is among them. The former child actor who shot to fame as Harry Potter has become a welcome stage presence on Broadway. After winning a well-deserved Tony Award as part of the terrific cast of Merrily We Roll Along two years ago, he's now going solo in Every Brilliant Thing, Duncan MacMillan's play about depression, suicide and the battle to overcome them. 

Radcliffe may be the only actor in the play, but he's not working alone. The audience at the Hudson Theatre is very much a part of this 70-minute venture. His nameless character calls on various individuals — usually those seated on the stage — to help him play a select group of people significant to his life, from his father to a teacher who helped him when he was a child.

The effect is a playful lightening of the subject without minimizing the internal struggles faced by those afflicted. Our narrator relates how he began making a list of all the "brilliant" things in the world after his mother attempted suicide when he was a boy. They range from simple joys like ice cream to the pleasure of "Waking up late with someone you LOVE!"

The list grew to contain many thousands of entries as he matured, went to college, fell in love — and began to experience his own depressive episodes. Spoiler alert: Although the words on his list helped him with his internal battle, he also needed people. 

And that message resonates as Radcliffe runs through the auditorium high-fiving theatergoers. He even mingles among the crowd before the show, setting up audience members to deliver list entries when he calls out a number during the show.

And what a joy it is to watch Radcliffe engage with people who are only too happy to be in the same room as Harry Potter. He takes material that in lesser hands could come off as precious or cloying and give it resonance, depth and joy. That is brilliance.