All Nighter review

Scott, Gallagher and Lester in All Nighter. (Evan Zimmerman)

With their lives as college students about to come to an end, four friends and roommates gather on their campus of their Pennsylvania liberal arts college in 2014 for one last cram session — and it's a doozy in All Nighter, a promising new work by Natalie Margolin that dives into the complicated dynamics of female friendship. 

It's a credit to Margolin — as well as to director Jaki Bradley and her cast — that the young women can't be easily described with just an adjective or two. Darcie (understudy Tessa Albertson at the performance I saw), with a teacher job lined up, seems to be the one with her life most in order. Nervous drama student Lizzy (Isa Briones) needs Adderall to get her through the wee hours. More self-assured Jacqueline (Kathryn Gallagher), who is dating a female freshman. comes across as the de facto leader of the group. Does she know that rich girl Tessa (Alyah Chanelle Scott) has done something that may compromise her trust?

Although the plot of All Nighter is slow to unfold, it gives Margolin a chance to lay the groundwork for the revelations that come later. Tessa's credit card goes missing, two of Lizzy's pills have disappeared. For years the gals have been blaming incidents like these on the house ghost, but reality is more mundane.

The repeated arrivals of a fifth character, Julia Lester's excessive, histrionic Wilma, set in motion the unraveling of all the falsehoods and omissions the women have been living with. Lester's character is designed to be a scene-stealer, but her performance is more over-the-top than necessary. 

The strength and, dare I say, heart of All Nighter lies in its unsparing look at the dynamics between four young women who thought they were the best of friends realizing how little they actually know about each other.

Boop! and Smash reviews

Jasmine Amy Rogers in Boop! (MatthewMurphy and Evan Zimmerman©)

Canadian scribe Bob Martin seems an unlikely candidate to have two musicals premiering on Broadway in the same month. Then again, his penchant for gently quirky, character-based comedy looks like something the Great White Way could use right now. But neither Boop! The Musical nor Smash seems destined for a long Broadway run, in part because the stories they tell aren't very enticing.

Martin, who shared a Tony Award with Don McKellar for the book of The Drowsy Chaperone in 2006, has the unenviable task of trying to conjure up a coherent story for sexy cartoon character Betty Boop. Her animated shorts were a hit with Depression-era moviegoers, and today she's apparently recognized as a feminist icon by some, but this Broadway musical isn't the best venture with which to revive her.  

That's not to take anything away from Jasmine Amy Rogers, who delivers a dynamic performance as Betty, or 17-year-old Angelica Hale as a present-day teenage girl obsessed with the character who meets her idol at New York Comic Con. Her powerful voice could stop many a show.

But the actresses are sidelined by sketchy material that never fully colors in its characters. Restless in her black-and-white cartoon world, Betty leaves it behind to not only time-travel (via her grandfather's contraption) but change dimensions too. As she learns what it is to be human, she strives to make the world a better place by inspiring the people around her. 

The highlight is easily the second-act opening number, "Where Is Betty?" which features the ensemble dressed half in black-and-white attire and half in full color, singing and dancing as they tread back and forth between Betty's present and her cartoon past. Otherwise, it's hard to get too wrapped up in Boop! because even though these are three-dimensional characters, they come across as cartoons. Jerry Mitchell's direction, David Foster's music and Susan Birkenhead's lyrics get the job done but with little excitement.

Megan Kane, Ashmanskas, Hurder, Nielsen, Rodriguez and Behlmann in Smash (Matthew Murphy)

Smash, at least, has a coherent story and a better score. But it faces director Susan Stroman's production faces the same problem as the NBC TV series on which it's based: an unsatisfying, overwrought plot relieved by a splendid array of musical numbers as cast and creatives struggle to bring a show about Marilyn Monroe to Broadway.

They have a terrific, triple-threat leading lady in Robyn Hurder, who plays Ivy Lynn, a Broadway star rehearsing to play Marilyn Monroe in a new musical called Bombshell. All seems to be going well until she reads a book about the tragic movie star and suddenly turns into a Method actor to the extreme, abetted by acting coach Susan Proctor (Kristine Nielsen). 

Soon, Ivy is demanding that everyone refer to her as Marilyn and becoming an all-around difficult diva. She wants the show rewritten, much to the dismay of the director, Nigel (Brooks Ashmanskas), and creators, married couple Jerry and Tracy (John Behlmann and Krysta Rodriguez), who hoped to tell a happy, upbeat story about Marilyn's life. Why they thought it would be possible to do that for a woman who died by suicide at age 36 isn't explained?

After setting up Ivy as the main character, the show takes a detour, and things start to fall apart both for Bombshell and Smash. Producer Anita (Jacqueline B. Arnold), attuned to the social media buzz, contemplates replacing her with candidates such as understudy Karen (Caroline Bowman) or assistant director Chloe (Bella Coppola). Is social media really that powerful? 

The best parts of Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman's score, much of it songs originally written for the TV series, are numbers from the show-within-the-show, including "Let Me Be Your Star" and "Let's Be Bad," which was already repurposed for their Some Like It Hot musical. 

Book writers Martin and Rick Elice have concocted a story with some hardy laughs but too many partially developed characters. Writing about issues like whether an actress who does not have Marilyn's svelte body should have a shot at playing her isn't a substitute for creating well-crafted people audiences are interested in. 

John Proctor Is the Villain review

Scott, Kuntz, Strazza, Yoo, Ebert and Griggs in John Proctor Is the Villain. (Julieta Cervantes)

There's nothing subtle about the title of Kimberly Belflower's new play. John Proctor Is the Villain takes a revisionist look at The Crucible as a high-school honors class dissects the revered Arthur Miller play from a feminist perspective. Its themes intelligently and insightfully reflect the lives of the teenage girls studying the classic, and their stories come vibrantly alive in Danya Taymor's excellent production. If only Belflower were as adept at developing her male characters as she is her females. 

Popular teacher Carter Smith (Tony winner Gabriel Ebert) leads an honors English class at a high school "in a one-stoplight town" in Georgia in 2018. Their study of Miller's classic about the Salem Witch Trials becomes the impetus for self-discovery for the female students, who begin to see parallels between the struggles of teenage girls in 17th century Massachusetts and their own plights where men are concerned. 

Ivy (Maggie Kuntz) has a father whose secretary has accused him of inappropriate behavior. Nell (Morgan Scott) forges a connection with dumb jock Mason (Nihar Duvvuri). Beth (Fina Strazza) may not realize her connection with Mr. Smith has crossed a line. Raelynn (Amalia Yoo) has a controlling ex-boyfriend, Lee (Hagan Oliveras), who messed around with one of their classmates, Shelby (Stranger Things' Sadie Sink), who has been absent from school for some time. 

When she returns — in dramatic fashion — the girls find solidarity in their shared experiences, both with each other and what they imagine their peers might have gone through in Colonial days, including loss of parents and sexual exploitation by men. Belflower, who hails from a small town in Georgia, excels at creating fully fleshed-out young Southern women, in both the students and a young guidance counselor played by Molly Griggs. 

Her three male characters end up falling into caricature, two predators and a himbo. Ebert, always a welcome stage presence, ably handles the shift in his character, although Smith lacks the depth of Miller's John Proctor. But how much richer the play could have been if the men were as layered as the women.

Maybe it was Belflower's intent to subject her male characters to the kind of paper-thin treatment female characters have too often received at the hands of male playwrights, but it lessens the show's heft. Fortunately, the work of Taymor and her excellent young cast is enough to compensate, and make John Proctor Is the Villain one of the more pleasant surprises of the Broadway season.

Liberation review

The cast of Liberation (Photo: Joan Marcus)

A daughter tries to discover who her late mother was in the early 1970s in Liberation, Bess Wohl's sprawling, very personal new play about the era's women's lib movement. It's intermittently intriguing as it depicts a group of women struggling with issues that remain at the forefront of American society (and thankfully some that have since been resolved), but like another recent play about feminist activists, the musical Suffs, it says more about the movement than about the people who were part of that movement.

And that's why it never fully coalesces, despite Wohl's playful yet sensitive approach to the material, and a stellar cast, directed by Whitney White. Breaking the fourth wall, a young woman (Susannah Flood) tells the audience that she remembers her recently deceased mother as a rather conventional wife and parent. How, she wonders, did a feminist who once formed a consciousness-raising group in Ohio, end up like that?

Having spoken to friends of her mother, she re-creates their meetings, playing her mom, Lizzie, and occasionally stepping out to comment on the proceedings. The participants are a cross section of womanhood. Susan (Adina Verson), a lesbian estranged from her family, is a recent arrival in Ohio. Celeste (Kristolyn Lloyd), the only Black woman in the group, has returned home from New York to care for her mother. The oldest participant, Margie (Betsy Aidem) is at a crossroads with her husband now that their sons are grown. And the two Doras are a contrast in personas, at least initially. Outspoken Isadora (Irene Sofia Lucio), from Spain, plans to divorce her husband as soon as she's eligible for a green card, while liquor company employee Dora (Audrey Corsa) thought she was attending a knitting circle.    

For two and a half hours the women share their frustrations and their breakthroughs. They join forces and try to prevent disagreements from tearing them apart. Lizzie's reluctance to tell them that she's dating someone, Bill (Charlie Thurston), and plans to marry him and move to New York creates a surprising amount of intolerance among the women.

An especially daring and effective scene opens the second act: The women conduct their meeting in the nude so they can discuss that they like and don't like about their bodies, something Ms. magazine encouraged at the time, and very little is hidden from the audience. (To ensure that no one takes photos that wind up on the internet, patrons must secure their phones in pouches for the duration of the play.)

Wohl wants to give everyone their say. The only female character who isn't part of the group is a Black mother, Joanne (Kayla Davion), who gets into a debate with Celeste about the role of women of color in the movement. It's certainly a topic worthy of discussion, but an awkward fit for this play. 

The most effective scene comes near the end, when Aidem steps into the role of the narrator's late mother to comfort her — and tell her that she got a lot of things wrong. It's effective because it's such a deeply personal moment, and too often in Liberation, Wohl reaches for the political at the expense of the personal.  

English review

Hadi Tabbal and Marjan Neshat (Photo: Joan Marcus)

Learning a second language is more than an academic exercise for the characters in English, Sanaz Toossi's Pulitzer Prize-winning play of 2023. Now receiving its Broadway premiere courtesy of the Roundabout Theatre Company, it's a wonderfully intimate, thought-provoking drama that delves into the impact of language on the soul.

Set in an immersive English-language class in Iran in 2008, the play focuses on four students and one instructor, for whom speaking English can be liberating but can also mean leaving behind a part of themselves and their culture. Elham (Tala Ashe) needs to pass the TOEFL test in order to teach and study in Australia. Roya (Pooya Mohseni) wants to be able to talk to her granddaughter, who is being raised in Canada. Omid (Hadi Tabbal), who's rather proficient with English, and Goli (Ava Lalezarzadeh), the youngest of the bunch, are hoping to get U.S. visas. Overseeing the course is Marjan (Marjan Neshat), a middle-aged woman who lived in England for several years and has a fondness for English-language rom-coms.

Throughout the semester the five struggle not only with how to speak the language but who they become when they do. Elham, clearly an overachiever in her studies, wrestles with her new language and challenges Marjan's demand that they don't speak Farsi in the classroom. (When characters do talk in their native language, they speak in unaccented English; the rest of the time their English has an accent attached.) Roya, the oldest of the bunch, can't cope with who she and her son become when they converse in English. 

Toossi has created a rich, diverse array of characters and, under the direction of Knud Adams, the cast brings them to life with beautiful delicacy. This 100-minute production, which originated at the Atlantic Theater Company in 2022, has transferred with its cast and creative team intact. One problem if you're sitting off to the sides: Marsha Ginsberg's revolving cubical classroom may not always offer the best vantage points at all times.

Even so, English is that all-too-rare play that has something fresh to say, and says it in a language all its own.

Death Becomes Her review

Jennifer Simard, Megan Hilty and Christopher Sieber (Photo: Matthew Murphy & Evan Zimmerman)

Female friendship that turns sour is at the core of one of the season's big movies, Wicked, and also central to the plot of Death Becomes Her, the latest movie-to-musical adaptation to hit Broadway. But it's hard to believe that fallen screen star Madeline Ashton and writer Helen Sharp were ever chummy, and that means this pushy comedic tuner gives them little of substance to sing about.

Still, the comic chops of Megan Hilty and Jennifer Simard turn this into a lively, memorable event. The show, which has a book by Marco Pennette and music and lyrics by Julia Mattison and Noel Carey, ramps up the camp but doesn't present a story and characters that engage. Instead, it's up to a bevy of special effects from Tim Clothier to wow the audience, and they don't disappoint. 

The premise is the same as in the 1992 Robert Zemeckis film that starred Meryl Streep, Goldie Hawn and Bruce Willis: Helen (Simard) is engaged to plastic surgeon Ernest (Christopher Sieber), until Madeline (Hilty) steals him away. Time jump several years and Ernest and Madeline are miserable, but Helen is a published author who seems to have found the fountain of youth. Actually, she's enlisted the services of the mysterious Viola Van Horn, played by Destiny's Child alum Michelle Williams, who has a way to stop the aging process, but it comes at a price. The women won't age and can't die, but their bodies will bear the scars of any injuries. 

And that's a problem when they begin to violently assault (even decapitate) each other. This is pulled off with doubles and masterful special effects. If only what had been put on the page were as exciting. Unfortunately, most of the score is forgettable, not an easily overlooked flaw when you're writing a musical. (How many times are Helen and Madeline supposed to sing about how old and decrepit they claim they're becoming?)

Pennette, a successful sitcom writer, has scripted a book that's heavy on jokes (many of which the audience can beat to the punchline) and light on character development. If you're a fan of the film and excessively campy humor, you may not mind. Otherwise, you might find Death Becomes Her, like its two central characters, splendid on the outside but hollow within. 

Maybe Happy Ending review

Helen J. Shen and Darren Criss in Maybe Happy Ending

As the world ponders the impact that artificial intelligence will have on humans, Maybe Happy Ending, a charming, whimsical new Broadway musical inverts that premise, exploring the harm that well-meaning yet inconsistent mortals could cause their devoted robotic pals. Now playing at the Belasco, it's easily the most enchanting new musical to arrive on Broadway this year.

It's set in South Korea, where Will Aronson and Hue Park's musical already had a successful run. This English-language version stars Emmy winner Darren Criss as Oliver, a humanoid model 3 Helperbot merrily passing the days in his room. He listens to jazz, talks to his plant and waits for his owner to send for him.

Oliver's orderly world is thrown into chaos when model 5 Claire (sensitively played by Helen J. Shen) shows up at his door in need of a charger. Because she's a newer model, Claire is a bit more advanced when it comes to understanding humans — and she realizes they've both been "retired," aka sent to live out their days in a community for old tech until their batteries run out because replacement parts have been discontinued.

Claire doesn't have the heart (or any heart for that matter) to shatter Oliver's sunny illusions, but she does join him on a journey to visit his former owner, James (Marcus Choi), which proves life-changing for both. And yes, it's clear that Oliver and Claire have the capacity to love.

Aronson's music and Park's lyrics are at their best when they're penning jazz numbers for Oliver's favorite musician, Gil Brentley (Dez Duron). Under the direction of Michael Arden, both Criss and Shen deliver touching, evocative performances. Criss, in particular excels at maintaining Oliver's stilted movements throughout the show'a hour and 45 minutes. 

And the show looks beautiful thanks to set, video and projection design by Dane Laffrey and George Reeve. Oliver's and Claire's worlds begin small, with both confined to their small studio apartments. But as they venture out into the open, and experience the beauty of nature, the set expands to fill the stage as their emotions are released.

How ironic that such humanity should occur in a show with a pair of robots as its main characters!