Girl, Interrupted: Not the Feel-Good Musical of the Year

Juliana Canfield in Girl, Interrupted (Joan Marcus)

In the 1990s it was a groundbreaking memoir, then an acclaimed film that won Angelina Jolie an Academy Award. Now the Public Theater has turned Girl, Interrupted into an Off Broadway musical with an array of dark, introspective songs by indie rocker Aimee Mann and a book by Pulitzer Prize winner Martyna Majok. The results are mixed. 

With a story centering on an 18-year-old confined to a Massachusetts psychiatric institution in the late 1960s, the musical lays bare, over nearly two intermissionless hours, how mental health issues affect young women.

An impassioned Juliana Canfield leads the ensemble as Susanna Kaysen, who, after attempting suicide, is persuaded by a doctor to enter the private facility. There, she meets an assortment of fellow females who have two things in common: emotional disturbances and families who can afford to pay for their treatments, although one, Grace (Mia Pak), admits her parents had to mortgage the house to do so. 

The show, directed with force and sensitivity by Jo Bonney, becomes a series of character studies, with each girl describing her plight in song. King Princess tackles the role of sociopath Lisa, played by Jolie in the film, but somehow the character fades into the background.

Most striking are Sally Shaw as Polly, whose haunting ballad "Burn It Out" delves into why she set herself on fire, and Gabi Campo as Tori, a Mexican girl beset by addiction. (If only someone were suffering from bipolar disorder and going through a manic phase, we might have gotten a couple of bouncy numbers to counteract the angst-filled songs.)

Not surprisingly, the creators explore the effect of patriarchal society on these women's psyches. Manoel Felciano, the sole male cast member, has the often thankless task of playing the various men, from father and doctor to a professor who bedded the young Susanna before she took an overdose of pills. 

It isn't until the second half that the plot kicks into gear, as Susanna faces up to what happened and fights for her release. Wouldn't you know that it takes a man to facilitate that? 

Fortunately, our understanding of mental illness has expanded greatly in the nearly 60 years since Kaysen was institutionalized, and even in the more than 30 years since her book was published. As a result, Girl Interrupted doesn't have the same shock value as it once did. Mann's mournful, brooding songs would make a haunting album, but even combined with Majok's script, they're not enough for a great stage musical. 

Death of a Salesman review

Laurie Metcalf and Nathan Lane in Death of a Salesman (Emilio Madrid)

Broadway hasn't suffered from a Salesman shortage. Since 1999, there have been four revivals of Arthur Miller's 1949 masterpiece on the Great White Way, none more stirring or explosive than the current production. This one has an unexpected headliner in the role of Willy Loman: Nathan Lane, best known for ratcheting up the laughs in comedies and musicals, delivers a stunning, heartbreaking portrayal. Attention must indeed by paid to his performance.

And to those with whom he shares the stage, especially the fabulous Laurie Metcalf as Willy's loyal, long-suffering wife Linda, and Christopher Abbott as wayward elder son Biff. I've been moved by past productions of the play, but never to the point where I shed tears as Linda admonished her sons about the worth of their misguided father as she implored that "attention must be paid" to him.

That was also the case in the climactic scene between Willy and Biff, where the former vehemently proclaims his — and by extension his son's — worth with the one of theater's most famous lines: "I am not a dime a dozen! I am Willy Loman, and you are Biff Loman!" Typically regarded as another example of Willy's delusion, here it also resonated as a parent reminding his defeated son of his worth.

That's what makes director Joe Mantello's production such a blockbuster. It delivers more than we've come to expect from this classic American drama, and the risks Mantello, his cast and creative team take pay off. Instead of a naturalistic set of the Loman home, scenic designer Chloe Lamford puts Willy's car center stage. Lane drives the traveling salesman's motor — that symbol of American success — onstage at the start, where it remains until he backs it out near the end.

And Mantello has cast different actors to play the younger versions of Loman children Biff and Happy, and their neighbor Bernard. What could come off as a director tampering with a playwright's intent instead gives the production a fluidity and richness. 

But what makes this Salesman such a smash is the attention it pays to its characters and their struggles to achieve the American dream, which haven't changed that much more than 75 after this masterpiece premiered. 

Schmigadoon! review

Alex Brightman in Schmigadoon! (Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

I'd already visited Schmigadoon! once, but I was more than delighted with my return trip. The stage version of Cinco Paul's musical sitcom is as charming as the original Apple TV series, and a hilarious highlight of a Broadway season marked by a dearth of new tuners. 

Little has been changed, except for the cast. Sara Chase and Alex Brightman now star as Melissa and Josh, a couple who find their relationship stymied and, Brigadoon style, stumble upon a land that time forgot (and where everyone hits the high notes and knows the dance steps). 

A fan of musicals, Melissa takes to the townsfolk as they burst into song. Josh, on the other hand, fills with dread every time he senses another number coming up. And that's just the beginning of their problems. When they find themselves unable to leave until they find true love, each ends up searching for it among the local community, which is populated with people who bear a striking resemblance to characters from such classic musicals as Oklahoma!, Carousel, The Music Man and The Sound of Music.

Paul has great affection for the genre's golden age, but also a wicked sense of humor about its eccentricities. So we meet minister's wife Mildred Layton (Ana Gasteyer), steadfastly determined to uphold the town morals. Her showstopping number, "Tribulation," is a terrific riff on Harold Hill's "Trouble" from The Music Man. Melissa is tempted by the sexy Danny Bailey (Max Clayton), a stand-in for Carousel's antihero Billy Bigelow, who sings a perfect pastiche of his "Soliloquy." Josh, meanwhile, deals with the flirtatious Betsy (the hilarious McKenzie Kurtz), a stand-in for Oklahoma!'s Ado Annie.

The show includes some new songs, but the best ones are from the TV series: the silly Emmy-winning ditty "Corn Puddin' "; the matrimonial earworm "Cross That Bridge"; and the retitled "Baby Talk," in which Melissa explains, in graphic detail, human reproduction to a pair of naive Schmigadoonians.

It's great fun, and the entire cast is terrific, although Brightman's detached demeanor until Josh's denouement had me longing for Keegan-Michael Key's more playful approach to the character onscreen. One caveat: As someone who loved the TV show, I got what I was expecting and thoroughly enjoyed it. If Schmigadoon! could have surprised me in some way, I would have loved it even more. 

The Fear of 13 review

Adrien Brody and Tessa Thompson in The Fear of 13 (Emilio Madrid)

A better showcase for Adrien Brody's acting chops than for the telling the real-life story of Nick Yarris, The Fear of 13 is an uneven mixture of docudrama, true crime and even rom-com. There's a solid play in there waiting to come out, but the storytelling gets lost amid the slow pace of Lindsey Ferrentino's script and director David Cromer's production.

The play, based on a 2015 documentary film, follows Yarris during the 22 years he spent on death row in Pennsylvania for a brutal 1981 crime he didn't commit. Not told in chronological order, the story begins with an incarcerated Yarris (Brody) meeting Jacki Miles (Tessa Thompson), a volunteer researching conditions on death row. As the two bond over their shared love of books, she takes a special interest in Yarris, and soon she's working to help him get his conviction overturned, and marrying him. 

DNA is still in its infancy, so testing for it, and getting it admitted as evidence, was an even longer and more complicated process than it is now. Sadly, the story of a wrongly convicted prisoner seeking exoneration isn't novel, and Ferrentino tries to beef up her plot with a lighthearted take on the romance between Yarris and Jacki that's tonally at odds with the rest of the play. 

It's only in the last half-hour that The Fear of 13 really hits its stride, as what sent Nick down a path toward drugs and petty crime is revealed, along with the circumstances that lead to his arrest and conviction. 

The wonderfully emotive Brody pours heart and soul into his character, and he's likely to be remembered at Tony time for his performance. Despite the pain and injustice he suffered, this Yarris doesn't emerge as a rich and real enough character to make you want to spend nearly two hours in his company.

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 competition 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 Pulitzer 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 original 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 partner 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.

Marcel on the Train review

Ethan Slater in Marcel on the Train (Emilio Madrid) 

Before Marcel Marceau captivated the world with his silent art, the famous mime was a young Jewish man in Nazi-occupied France. And an unsung hero who helped to smuggle Jewish children across the Swiss border and out of harm's way.

It's unfortunate that such an amazing story fails to come alive dramatically in Marcel on the Train, an intimate 100-minute play by Marshall Pailet and Ethan Slater (from the Wicked movies). Pailet directs and Slater tackles the title role in Classic Stage Company's Off Broadway production, which unsuccessfully casts adults as the four orphan children Marcel, posing as a scoutmaster, shepherds across France in a train car. 

Part of Marcel on the Train's problem is that the four kids — played by Alex Wyse, Maddie Corman, Max Gordon Moore and Tedra Millan, all accomplished actors — aren't given the depth of characterization that, for example, the child characters (also played by adults) receive in The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. 

The boys bicker; Corman's character, Etiennette, doesn't speak a word, while Millan's weak-bladdered Berthe is convinced she won't live to see adulthood. Marcel playfully tries to ease their fears, engaging them in games and showing them how to make shadow puppets with their hands, but the sequence drags on until real danger threatens, in the form of a Nazi officer (a chilling Aaron Serotsky) who inspects their car.

But despite the danger they face, the characters in Marcel on the Train are too thinly sketched to fully captivate audiences. I'd love to read more about their exploits, but this well-intended drama doesn't do them justice. 

The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee review

Justin Cooley in Spelling Bee. (Joan Marcus)

Think life isn't fair? What if you're a middle school student competing in a spelling bee and the word you have is "strabismus," while one of your opponents gets "pineapple"?

In The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, a nostalgic charmer of a musical currently being revived Off Broadway at New World Stages, you lament your plight in a song called "Pandemonium": "Life is random and unfair/Life is pandemonium."

It may be for the six smarty students vying for victory, but audiences who long for more character-rich tuners will find their innocence and genuineness a welcome reprieve from the bleakness of grown-up life in this 20-year-old original musical by William Finn (music and lyrics) and Rachel Sheinkin (book).

Played by adults, this mixed-up group of misfits endure the pressure of competition and the stress of adolescence, and the ensemble cast in director-choreographer Danny Mefford's beautifully affecting production imbue them with heart and humor.

With an absentee mother and a busy father, lonely Olive Ostrovsky (understudy Emily N. Rudolph at the performance I caught) had to transport herself to the event. William Barfee (Glee's Kevin McHale), likely on the spectrum, uses his "magic foot" to spell words on the floor. Logainne Schwartzandgrubenierre (Cecilia Snow, also an understudy) feels pressure from her two dads to win. 

Marcy Park (Leana Rose Concepcion) also faces familial pressure, but has a creative solution to it. Leaf Coneybear (Justin Cooley) appears to be a goofball, but when he starts to spell there's no stopping him. And poor Chip Tolentino (Philippe Arroyo), last year's winner. His out-of-control hormones could be his Achilles' heel this year.

Corralling the kids are three adults: former spelling bee champ Rona Lisa Peretti (Lili Cooper); "comfort counselor" Mitch Mahoney, ready to hand out juice boxes and hugs; and vice principal Douglas Panch (Jason Kravits), tasked with giving the kids their words — and using them in hilarious sentences.

That the kids' struggles are relatable to those of us who are long passed puberty shows how strong the material is. What's especially endearing about Spelling Bee is how unique and original the characters and songs are. At a time when so many new musicals are based on movies and filled with forgettable songs, this show's eccentricities seem all the more welcoming.

Bug review

Carrie Coon and Namir Smallwood in Bug (Matthew Murphy)

Conspiracy theories didn't begin with social media, as Tracy Letts' dark psychological thriller from 1996, proves. Now making its Broadway debut at the Friedman Theatre courtesy of Manhattan Theatre Club, Bug presents a chilling portrait of two lost souls who forge a connection that ultimately leads to their undoing in the most horrific way.

Agnes (Carrie Coon) and Peter (Namir Smallwood) use drugs to cope with their pain. She's the mother of a boy who went missing on her watch; he suffers from a mental illness that landed him in a military hospital. Their meeting in an Oklahoma motel room leads to a sexual encounter and growing paranoia over the "bugs" that seem to have infiltrated their bodies. Is the military trying to capture Peter so it can continue experimenting on him? Is Agnes' ex-husband Jerry (Steve Key), now out of prison, trying to take revenge? Or is this just the only way their troubled minds can cope?    

The influence of Sam Shepard pervades the drama, from its increasingly bleak setting to its downtrodden characters. Coon bares soul and body to reveal a woman cracking from within. Smallwood's performances can't quite match hers (or that of Michael Shannon, who played Peter Off Broadway in the play's premiere in 2004).  

In fact, those who've seen Bug in its more intimate confines likely won't be as impressed with David Cromer's new production, or its excruciating ending. But those experiencing the play for the first time — likely the majority of the audience — likely will be mesmerized by Bug's bleak portrait of darkness and despair.

Rob Lake Magic With Special Guests The Muppets review

Lake and The Muppets (Evan Zimmerman)

The most amazing feat in magician Rob Lake's Broadway show is the excitement that a bunch of moving pieces of fabric can generate in an audience. I'm talking, of course, about The Muppets, who are underused in this 80-minute entertainment but are greeted with rapturous applause every time they make an appearance. 

When it comes to name recognition, the fame of Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy and their friends far outweighs that of Lake, a charming, low-key illusionist who was a quarterfinalist on TV's America's Got Talent. It's hard to fathom why anyone imagined audiences would pay Broadway prices for this amusing but slight show, which might have been able to make a go of it at one of New World Stages' smaller Off Broadway spaces.

The Muppets aren't very well integrated into the magic. Instead, they're the comic relief in between Lake's tricks. He saws a woman in half, levitates another and engages in a couple of mind-reading games with audience members. They're tricks most of the adults in the audience have seen before, but still fresh enough for the many children in attendance.  

And it's Lake's interaction with the audience that gives his show a bit of life, as he wanders into the house with a handheld camera, getting individuals involved in his tricks. The downside is it displays how many empty seats there are in the audience. Lake needs more than  Muppets to elevate the magic of his show. 

Waiting for Godot review

Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves in Waiting for Godot (Andy Henderson)

Bill and Ted are having an existential crisis, and people are paying more than $200 to witness it. I'm talking about the current Broadway production of Waiting for Godot, now running at the Hudson Theatre, with Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter headlining Samuel Beckett's iconic absurdist drama. Fans of the three films, beginning with 1989's Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, in which the duo team up as slacker friends, may enjoy seeing the actors collaborate on what is certainly their most bizarre adventure yet, but this production, from en vogue auteur Jamie Lloyd, would have benefited from a lighter touch.

Reeves and Winter are certainly risk takers. Playing, respectively, Estragon and Vladimir (aka Gogo an Didi), they're onstage for two hours in a work where not much happens as their characters wait for the mysterious Godot to show up (spoiler alert: he doesn't). The ease with Reeves and Winter play off of each other as their characters wait and wonder elevates much of the first act, until the arrival of Pozzo (Brandon J. Dirden) and Lucky (Michael Patrick Thornton). The interlude featuring this master-slave pair (Lucky usually has a rope around his neck, but here, like the actor, is in a wheelchair) is generally a dynamic part of the play, culminating with the mostly silent Lucky delivering a lengthy, fast-paced monologue of mostly gibberish. Having Thornton deliver it at a slower pace lessens its impact, and his performance seems at odds with Dirden's boisterous, showy one.

Likewise, in Act II, Reeves' and Winter's performances turn overly heavy and dour. There's little range, and the playfulness that was so effective in the first act disappears entirely. Even when Didi and Gogo are in their darkest moments, the absurdity of their situation (aka life) should always be present.

Instead, there's plenty of absurdity in Soutra Gilmour's set, which places the actors in a tunnel (or maybe the gun barrel in the opening shots of a James Bond film). It suggests they're trapped, perhaps in their own minds. The most moving performance may come from the young boy (played alternately by Eric Williams and Zaynn Arora) who shows up twice to inform them that Godot's arrival isn't imminent. A tiny figure dressed from head to toe in white, he could be one of God angels, and he's the warmest, most welcoming thing Didi and Gogo are likely to find in their barren world.

Lady Patriot review

Jill Whelan and Chrystee Pharria in Lady Patriot (Maria Baranova)

Playwright and director Ted Lange has said he referenced around 27 books on the Civil War for his new play Lady Patriot, and it shows. The story that initially inspired him was the true-life exploits of Elizabeth Van Lew, a Southern woman who spied for the North during the Civil War. Van Lew even sent freed slave Mary Bowser to work as a servant in the household of Confederate president Jefferson Davis, where Bowser gathered intel to help the Union cause. 

If only he'd kept his attention on these two fearless females, played effectively by Jill Whelan and Chrystee Pharris. But their activities too often take a back seat to scenes of domestic distress between Davis (Gordon Goodman) and his entitled, prejudiced wife Varina (Josie DiVincenzo), and ones involving military maneuvers with a member of his cabinet, Jewish Southerner Judah P. Benjamin (Derek Emerson Powell).  

As the Civil War rages, the struggles of Old Robert (Count Stoval), one of the Davis's slaves, add a touching, personal counterpoint to the story. Having lost his family when they were sold years ago, he finds hope in the future thanks to Mary, who teaches him how to read and allows him to imagine a life post-slavery.   

There'e enough material here for an eight-episode streaming series on, say Apple TV+ (which already has Manhunt, about the search for John Wilkes Booth after Lincoln's assassination). Speaking of TV connections, the show has been promoted as a Love Boat reunion with Lange, who played the ship's groovy bartender Isaac on that 1970s TV classic, working with former costars Whelan and Fred Grandy, who shows up in Lady Patriot's second act as Northern journalist Slydell.

Don't look for any other similarities between the two projects. The lighthearted escapism of Love Boat is as far removed from Lady Patriot's perceptive exploration of characters from different spheres who intersect at a critical period in American history. Lange's cast is sound. Stoval delivers the most affecting performance, but the entire cast, especially the women, are memorable. One has to admire Lange for giving everyone, including the pro-slavers, a chance to have their say, but I wished he'd focused his lens on Elizabeth and Mary. These are women who deserve an in-depth telling of their stories. 

Well, I'll Let You Go review

Danny McCarthy and Quincy Tyler Bernstine in Well, I'll Let You Go (Emilio Madrid)

How well do you really know the people that you've lived with and loved for years, even decades? In Bubba Weiler's beautifully rendered new play about overcoming loss and grief, Well, I'll Let You Go, young widow Maggie (Quincy Tyler Bernstine, never better) seeks to understand and come to terms with the sudden death of her husband Marv (Severance's Michael Chernus) as she's visited by a cross section of people both familiar and unknown, who confound her, confuse her and ultimately help her heal.

In a series of two-character scenes — as well as through narration provided by Marv — more about Marv, Maggie and their long marriage is revealed. Before she married, Maggie had hoped to move to Chicago, but instead settled down with Marv, who helped people in their small Midwestern town as a lawyer while Maggie became a teacher. They never had children. 

Maggie is visited by the troubled cousin her husband looked after (Will Dagger); a funeral home rep (Constance Shulman); Maggie's longtime friend (Amelia Workman), who is married to Marv's brother (Danny McCarthy), another visitor; as well as a woman who keeps calling (Emily Davis) and her daughter (Cricket Brown).

As the nature of Marv's death and what led to it become clear, Weiler indulges in scenes that are a tad too long and numerous, but director Jack Serio handles it all with sensitivity, never letting the drama sink into tearjerker territory. 

There's not a bad performance in the mix, but special attention goes to Bernstine, a longtime stage actress whose work always cuts to the core. Her portrait of Maggie encompasses a range of emotions, from the heartfelt to the heartbreaking, and it's always enthralling.  

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! (Matthew Murphy 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.