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Shubert Theatre

  • Theater
  • Midtown West
  • price 4 of 4
Shubert Theatre
Photograph: Courtesy Shubert Theatre
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Time Out Says

This jewel in the Shubert Organization's crown was built in 1913 by Lee and J.J. Shubert for their brother, Sam, who died in a freak railroad accident when he was just 29 years old. The space (currently seating 1,460) has seen it all: the Lunts, five Rodgers & Hart musicals, Barbra Streisand in I Can Get It for You Wholesale and the world premiere of Stephen Sondheim's A Little Night Music. Most famously, it was home to the Public Theater's A Chorus Line for 15 years, until 1990.

Details

Address:
225 W 44th St
New York
Cross street:
between Broadway and Eighth Ave
Transport:
Subway: A, C, E to 42nd St–Port Authority; N, Q, R, 42nd St S, 1, 2, 3, 7 to 42nd St–Times Sq
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What's On

To Kill a Mockingbird

  • 4 out of 5 stars
  • Drama

Theater review by Adam Feldman  [Note: To Kill a Mockingbird will close at the Shubert Theatre on January 16, 2022, and reopen on June 1 at the Belasco Theatre, with Greg Kinnear in the role of Atticus Finch.]  The defense never rests in Aaron Sorkin’s cagey adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird. That the play exists at all is an act of boldness: Turning Harper Lee’s 1960 novel into a play in 2018 is no easy task. The hero of the story, as every schoolchild knows, is Atticus Finch (Jeff Daniels), a lawyer in rural Alabama in the early 1930s, who bravely defends a disabled black man, Tom Robinson (Gbenga Akinnagbe), against a false accusation of rape. Slow to anger and reluctant to judge—“You never really understand a person,” he says, “until you climb into his skin and walk around in it”—Atticus is a paragon of that most fabled of American values: decency. But while To Kill a Mockingbird has a special place in the literature of American civil rights, the book is also now a minefield. As seen through the eyes of his preteen tomboy daughter, Scout (Celia Keenan-Bolger), Atticus is very much a white-daddy savior, albeit one who can’t perform miracles, in a narrative that has little room for the perspectives of black people beyond the respect and gratitude they show him. At its center is a story about a young woman—Tom’s accuser, Mayella (Erin Wilhelmi)—whose allegations of sexual assault must not be believed. Even more problematic, to some modern ears, is the scope of Atticus’s ma

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