Billy McEntee

Broadway is about to get a little stranger—or, to be accurate, a whole lot stranger. “I think this show will blow people away,” says Justin Martin, the co-director of Stranger Things: The First Shadow. “We had to let our imaginations run wild.” Conceived as a prequel to the spooky Netflix series, The First Shadow takes audiences back to 1959 in the small town of Hawkins, Indiana, when adult characters from the TV show are still in their teen years. So is newcomer Henry Creel, who moves to Hawkins in hopes of a fresh start—though his supernatural abilities make it hard for him to blend in. (He is fated to become Vecna, a psychic monster who rules a fearsome alternate dimension called the Upside Down.) Creel’s powers go full tilt in this mesmerizing stage spectacle, which is packed with illusions, stunts and special effects. Reviewing the show’s West End premiere last year, Time Out London called it “visually stunning,” adding that “it’s as close to the Upside Down as you’re going to get without having your head bitten off by a demogorgon.” Martin, who oversees the production alongside the celebrated English director Stephen Daldry (The Hours), echoes that sentiment in describing it. “The play is everything the series is,” he says, “but without the screen to protect you.” “It’s blockbuster theater,” agrees actor Alex Breaux, who plays the younger version of Dr. Martin Brenner, the villain played by Matthew Modine on TV. “We’re doing stuff I never thought I’d see on stage or be

Theater review by Billy McEntee “He’s losing it.” “PURE MELTDOWN.” “I love watching his ego collapse in 4K.” These could be social-media comments on a Senate hearing, and indeed they are—but in Ancient Rome, not the United States. The current production of Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Coriolanus at Theatre for a New Audience is a blend of the contemporary and the classical. A columned pantheon and a live video feed both overlook the stage in Afsoon Pajoufar’s spare multilevel set, and McKinley Belcher III gives modern spins to the title character’s modes of masculinity: the cocky bro, the momma’s boy, the war hero who falls from grace. Shakespeare charts a clear rise and fall for his doomed protagonist, and Belcher surfs those waves exuberantly. The Tragedy of Coriolanus | Photograph: Courtesy Hollis King Coriolanus is not Shakespeare’s most compelling work, but this production’s standout actors, anchored by Belcher, could make you think otherwise. The plot includes war, politics and a civic uprising as the Roman general Coriolanus vanquishes the rival Volscians only to plead for their alliance when his arrogant refusal to display his battle wounds gets him banished from Rome. The ping-pong of allegiances threatens to get confusing, but director Ash K. Tata keeps the action clear and active, and projections by Lisa Renkel and Possible help define the locations. Other sequences are less clear; during battles, the video design sometimes becomes a muddled first-person shooter g

Theater review by Billy McEnteeRating: ★★★ (three stars) Where would the American theatre be without dead parents? Perhaps no event can bring estranged characters together more efficiently than a ritual about loss, and Jeena Yi’s Jesa explores one Korean mourning custom: a traditional feast that honors the anniversary of the passing of an ancestor—or, in Jesa’s case, two ancestors. Twice the death, twice the drama. Photograph: Courtesy Joan MarcusJesa Presented by Ma-Yi at the Public Theater, this occasionally cutting dramedy reunites four American-born sisters: perfectionist Grace (Shannon Tyo), chipper Elizabeth (Laura Sohn), renegade Brenda (Christine Heesun Hwang) and brassy Tina (Tina Chilip, a standout). They’ve gathered to remember their late father, or at least that’s what Grace has told Brenda to lure her back to Orange County from the Big Apple. Grace revered her mother but thought less of her father; it’s vice versa for Brenda. But since their parents died at similar times of year, this jesa is intended to do double duty. Cut the pears, fry the shrimp and set out the (electric) candles: In Grace’s immaculate West Elm–ified home—the aptly soulless design is by You-Shin Chen—everything will flow smoothly, except maybe each sister’s grief. RELATED: Buy tickets to Jesa at the Public Theater Photograph: Courtesy Joan MarcusJesa In the play’s funnier moments, the women try to remember the ceremony’s order of operations: Do you bow and then sip, or sip and then bow?