Raven Snook

There’s nothing quite like seeing a legendary show tune performed live in a great Broadway musical, but you can always satisfy your craving for emotion-filled performance by cranking up a cast recording or binge-watching clips on YouTube. But which are the very best Broadway songs—the ones that endure through the years because they not only stick in our heads but also capture some essense of the genre? It’s nearly impossible to create a list of something so subjective, but we’re here to try. With that in mind, we've come up with these 50 Broadway bangers: a mix of classic musical-theater numbers from 1927 through today. Many of these come from the best Broadway musicals the Great White Way has ever known; to narrow the field a bit, we've limited ourselves to a single song per show. (And sorry, jukebox musicals and movie adaptations: Only songs written for the stage are eigible.) You may not be familiar with all the entries on this list, but trust us: You’ll love them. Maybe they’ll introduce you to a new Broadway show to put on your list of must-sees. Maybe you’ll find one to add to your karaoke rotation. Either way, you’ll get an earful of tunes that are sure to stir your heart. RECOMMENDED: Full listing of Broadway musicals

Jeremy Jordan and Eva Noblezada crackle with chemistry, even from on opposite coasts of the country. The two will soon share a Broadway stage in The Great Gatsby, a new musical based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1925 novel about obsession and indulgence in Jazz Age New York; he’s playing eternal striver Jay Gatsby, and she’s the unattainable Daisy Buchanan. But Jordan recently had to take a work trip to San Francisco while his co-star continued rehearsing in NYC, and as they reunite on Zoom for this interview, Noblezada is excited to share what he was missing. “We’re making so many changes. In the first scene, you come in on a camel!” she jokes. “Great,” Jordan deadpans back. “I approve of that.” Fitzgerald’s masterpiece entered the public domain in 2021, and many have rushed to theatricalize it since. Multiple musical versions are dancing around; one debuted in Massachusetts last year and another, Gatsby, will be at the American Repertory Theater this summer. But Jordan and Nobelzada’s version—directed by Marc Bruni, with a book by Kait Kerrigan and songs by Nathan Tysen and Jason Howland—is the first to make it to Broadway. After a buzzy run last fall at New Jersey’s Paper Mill Playhouse, the production begins previews at the Broadway Theatre on March 29 and opens on April 25 (on the last day of Tony eligibility).  Jordan and Noblezada are Time Out New York’s cover stars for March and our spring preview of the Broadway season. Their photoshoot took place at The Plaza’s Palm Cou

If you’re the kind of person who has always dreamed of seeing their name in lights, you’re in the right place. It’s time to follow your dreams and enroll in one of the best acting classes in NYC. And look, even if you can’t afford to quit your day job to attend one of New York's acting schools (would be nice though, right?) there are plenty of part-time acting classes with flexible schedules and affordable prices. There are quite a lot of different classes on offer, too. So, if belting out the best Broadway songs of all time is your thing, or you just want to see whether being called a ‘character’ all your life means you have any actual talent, these workshops for beginners are the perfect place to start. And who knows? Maybe one day you’ll land your breakout role in one of the best Broadway shows on the Great White Way. Or how about a starring gig in the hottest new television show? Or maybe even Hollywood? All you need is a bit of ambition... and maybe an acting class or two. But you know that – that’s why you’re here! Smart. Very smart.  RECOMMENDED: Find more classes in NYC This article includes affiliate links. These links have no influence on our editorial content. For more information, click here.

"They're all going to laugh at you," cries Carrie's religious nut of a mother in Brian De Palma's intense 1976 film adaptation of Stephen King's novel Carrie. But if the creators of the musical get their way, no one will ever laugh at Carrie again—at least not in their revamped version for MCC Theater, which opens at the Lucille Lortel Theatre on March 1. A coming-of-rage story about a bullied teenager with an overbearing mother, who discovers she has telekinetic powers and wreaks havoc on her small town, Carrie probably seemed like strange source material for a Broadway tuner when it was originally produced in 1988. Indeed, the $8 million show was panned by most critics; audiences reportedly jeered and cackled; and it inspired Ken Mandelbaum's encyclopedia of flops, Not Since Carrie. But a quarter century later, when dark, gory flicks like The Silence of the Lambs and Evil Dead have been musicalized, Carrie seems ripe for revival. There's just one problem: Unlike those other shows, the creators refuse to go camp. For them, Carrie is deadly serious. A full-on camp production would have been the easier route, especially since the original was so (unintentionally) kitschy, what with leather-pants--clad bullies squealing like pigs and students in gym class wearing togas. But that's not what composer Michael Gore, lyricist Dean Pitchford and book writer Lawrence D. Cohen had in mind. "We got hundreds of requests a year to do [the original] Carrie in regional theaters, high school

Considering his vocation, it’s not surprising that David Hirson is a stickler for words. Yet even more than other playwrights, he expresses himself with painstaking care, correcting himself (and, politely, others) if he thinks the wrong verbiage has been used. Hirson’s love for language is evident in his farce La Bête, which opened and quickly closed on the Main Stem in 1991 after being trounced by most major critics, in particular The New York Times’ Frank Rich, who glibly dismissed it as a show “for anyone who confuses high-mindedness with high art.” But unlike most flops, the play, which is set in 17th-century France and written entirely in rhyming couplets, enjoyed an auspicious afterlife: It won the 1992 Olivier Award in London for best comedy, and went on to become a staple of regional and college theaters. Earlier this year, Tony-winning director Matthew Warchus (God of Carnage) helmed a star-studded West End revival featuring Frasier’s David Hyde Pierce, Absolutely Fabulous’s Joanna Lumley and stage legend Mark Rylance. Now, that production is headed across the pond to give La Bte a much-deserved second shot at Broadway success. Fresh from England where he caught the show’s final bow at the Comedy Theater, Hirson admits that the play isn’t the usual commercial stage fare. “It’s never compared to other things,” he notes. “It doesn’t resemble other plays. People have very extreme reactions to it. It’s...weird.” That adjective could also be used to describe Hirson’s care

Patrick Page and Amber Gray have been on the road to Hadestown for years. Anaïs Mitchell's bluesy folk opera, inspired by the ancient myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, had its first professional theatrical iteration in 2016, when director Rachel Chavkin staged it at New York Theatre Workshop with Page and Gray as the tempestuous gods Hades and Persephone. Three years and four productions later, Hadestown's Broadway version has earned 14 Tony Award nominations, including nods for both actors. The only cast members who've been with the show throughout its journey, they play been-there, done-that, seen-it-all spouses—while he builds a soulless underworld empire, she indulges in spirits and springtime above ground—who rediscover their lost passion through the story of the ill-fated central lovers. We chatted with Page and Gray about what it's been like to incarnate these dueling deities. Amber, you've worked with Rachel Chavkin on several projects, notably Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812. But Patrick, how did you get involved with the show? PAGE: To my shame, I had been working uptown mostly. I hadn't worked downtown in a long time. I was looking for jobs for my acting students when I saw this ad and it said they wanted a bass. I thought, Nobody ever wants a bass: What the hell is this? And then I saw that it was directed by Rachel Chavkin, one of the best directors working today—I hadn't seen a director like her since Julie Taymor. So I downloaded the two Hades songs from

The last week of Pride month offers something new for the LGBTQ community to celebrate: a milestone in transgender representation on Broadway. Starting this week, three trans-identified performers will be on the Main Stem: The jukebox musical Head Over Heels stars RuPaul’s Drag Race favorite Peppermint, and Young Jean Lee’s play Straight White Men features nonbinary pioneer Kate Bornstein and rising interdisciplinary artist Ty Defoe. “Broadway was a dream I thought was impossible,” says Bornstein, a prominent activist, author and performance artist. In Straight White Men, she and Defoe play the Persons in Charge, who interact with the audience and provide a striking counterpoint to the titular characters. “I’m impressed that Second Stage Theater is choosing to do a show that talks about all these intersections,” says Defoe, a Native American performer who identifies as two-spirit. “It’s a play that speaks truth to power, and entertains while opening the perspective of how gender is seen.”  “We’re being cast specifically for our trans-ness within shows that need it,” Bornstein says. “That says a lot about where we are.” Peppermint, who stars as the oracle Pythio in Head Over Heels, agrees. “This role would not have existed even 10 years ago,” she says. A quirky Elizabethan romantic romp written in rhyming verse and built around hit pop songs by the Go-Go’s, the musical allows Peppermint to show off the skills she acquired at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy: “I’m a tr

Even though Kris Kringle won't fly into town until tomorrow's Thanksgiving Day parade, the elves at Macy's are already getting Santaland ready for its seasonal debut on Friday. We caught a sneak peek last week, and the fantastical toy-, train- and fake snow-filled world is as magical as ever. And it's a good thing too, since families often wait up to 90 minutes to see the big guy in red. After your visit, be sure to check out the store's 30-minute Miracle on 34th Street puppet show, presented by Park Slope theater Puppetworks (admission is $5 per person). And of course, be sure to check out Macy's Yes, Virginia-themed windows . (Seeing them in person definitely beats watching them in a slide show !)

Circus Arts at Manhattan Movement and Arts Center248 W 60th St between Amsterdam and West End Aves (212-787-1178, manhattanmovement.com). $585 for 13 weeks (semester signup only).Got a kid who loves clowning around? Help her channel that energy with this introduction to the circus arts. Instructors guide tykes through warm-up stretches and cardio exercises before showing them big-top basics, like aerial silks, plate spinning, juggling and stilt walking. But the class teaches more than just showy acrobatics—it helps little ones build trust in each other and conquer their fears in a noncompetitive setting. Ages 5 to 12.CircusYogaKarma Kids Yoga, 104 W 14th St between Sixth and Seventh Aves (646-638-1444, circusyoga.com). $25, children under 13 $10.Kevin O'Keefe, the multitalented performer behind the one-man act Circus Minimus, and his wife, Erin Maile O'Keefe, founded this traveling education program, which uses the West Village Karma Kids studio as its NYC home base. In mixed-age sessions, students practice traditional yoga techniques as well as acrobatics, juggling, slapstick and tightrope walking. Ages 7 and up.Juggling ClassesSat 3--4pm, 4-5pm. Theaterlab Studio, 137 W 14th St between Sixth and Seventh Aves, third floor (347-987-1311, jugglingclasses.com).Tue 6--7pm. Big Sky Works, 29 Wythe Ave at North 14th St, Williamsburg, Brooklyn (347-987-1311, jugglingclasses.com). $20.Founded by Rod Kimball (a.k.a. the really cute Flying Karamazov Brother), these one-off sessions ar

In the theater world, it’s rare to get a second crack at a show. But that’s exactly what happened to Mark Thompson. The set-and-costume designer for Broadway’s latest bet, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, won an Olivier Award (London’s equivalent of a Tony) for his work on the original West End production. Despite the staging of Roald Dahl’s classic 1964 children’s novel, about an impoverished boy and the eccentric chocolatier who befriends him, doing well enough to run for almost four years, the consensus was it couldn’t travel across the pond without some major reworking. Thompson, along with songwriters Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman (of Hairspray and Smash fame) and book writer David Greig, stayed on. Everyone else—including Oscar- and Tony-winning director Sam Mendes—cycled off. A new cast, choreographer and director—three-time Tony winner Jack O’Brien—convened to take a fresh approach. On a recent Friday morning during rehearsal, Thompson chats in the back of the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, as the cast—headlined by Christian Borle as Willy Wonka in that iconic purple tailcoat and black top hat—goes through a group number that’s set just outside the chocolate factory. “It’s playful and full of mischief,” says Thompson of the set in front of us. A red carpet is unfurled, welcoming the lucky golden-ticket winners who get to tour the candy mecca, and the eye-popping costumes brilliantly capture each kid’s personality: There’s Violet Beauregarde, in her plush purple sweat suit

Unlike Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas, New Year's Eve is a tricky holiday for parents. Do you hire a sitter and head out for the night? (If so, be sure to read our tips for hiring a sitter on December 31!) Or do you change into your jammies and watch the ball drop on TV with the whole family? Fortunately, there's a third option: Ring in 2010 with the brood in tow at one of these kid-friendly New Year's Eve events. Nighttime celebrations The Big Apple Circus: Dance On!Fri Dec 31 at 9:30pm. Lincoln Center, Damrosch Park, Amsterdam Ave at 62nd St (212-962-5471, bigapplecircus.org). Subway: 1 to 66th St--Lincoln Ctr. $25--$175. We loved this year's dance-heavy edition of the Big Apple Circus and we know your kids will too. Catch the show on December 31 and get an extra bang for your buck at the postshow party, during which ringmaster Kevin Venardos invites guests into the ring to count down to midnight. All ages. Black, White and Pink New Year's Eve at the PlazaDec 31; dinner seating at 5:30 or 6:30pm. The Palm Court, Fifth Ave at Central Park South (212-546-5300, theplaza.com/dining/palmcourt). Subway: N, R to Fifth Ave. $120, children under 13 $85.Overnight packages are also offered for an additional fee. Plaza-dwelling kid-lit character Eloise may be the most pampered tyke in town, but tonight your kids can get a taste of her lavish lifestyle at this swanky family fete. Guests join Eloise, her pets and her nanny for a three-course dinner in the Palm Court, followed by f

After three decades as a high-profile choreographer and tapper in New York and America’s top dance festivals, Michelle Dorrance hoofed into the national spotlight this past fall with a charming and kinetic guest spot on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. Not only did she show off her serious syncopation skills, but she taught her star pupil, the surprisingly nimble host, a few moves. “More people than you know are secretly obsessed with tap,” says the 36-year-old dancer and choreographer, who won a MacArthur “genius” grant last year. “That’s what I feel keeps tap marginalized. It will always be this bastard form unless we make a decision to value it in the public eye.” The daughter of a pro soccer coach and a ballerina turned teacher, Dorrance is one of tap’s most talented and vocal proselytizers. And right now she’s preaching about her encore Joyce Theater run of 2015’s sold-out The Blues Project, a heady collaboration between her eponymous dance company and blues musician Toshi Reagon and BIGLovely, Reagon’s band. “Jazz and tap dance are brother and sister,” says Dorrance. “But tap dance predates jazz, and so does the blues. They’re both born of the same roots. There are such unsung heroes of the blues and tap dance, folks who are not famous but who were truly the innovators of the forms. I think that in most of black vernacular history, the arts and anything of the people is appropriated and whitewashed. Not that we really cover anything like that in the show. I just mean

Broadway review by Raven Snook  "In the West you think of Russia as a cold, bleak place," says Boris Berezovsky, the late mathematician turned oligarch turned enemy of the Russian state, in the opening scene of Peter Morgan's Patriots. The same could be said for the first half of Morgan’s unsatisfying new modern-history play, which explores how Berezovsky helped bring Vladimir Putin to power—a miscalculation that leads to his personal and political ruin. The first act is jam-packed with exposition, so director Rupert Goold stages the introductory scenes as farce. But even as Berezovsky, played by an indefatigable Michael Stuhlbarg, juggles business with bullying (via phone calls with his cronies, his kid and his teenage courtesan), the action feels sluggish. The narrative hops around in time as minor characters run up and down the stairs of Miriam Buether's chilly set, and cycle in and out of an imposing door that leads to the corridors of power.  Patriots | Photograph: Courtesy Matthew Murphy As Morgan arranges the facts to serve his Shakespearean ambitions, there’s a lot to keep track of: bombs, betrayals, backroom deals. But it feels exhausting, not exhilarating. It’s when Berezovsky decides to play kingmaker with ex-KGBer and local government lackey Putin (Will Keen, who originated his role in London) that the drama finally kicks in. Act II opens with a hilarious tableau of Berezovsky partying in the Caribbean after Putin becomes President, but his celebration is short-l

Theater review by Raven Snook Given how our discourse about identity has evolved in the past quarter-century, it's easy to see why director Will Davis was eager to remount Orlando, Sarah Ruhl's 1998 theatrical distillation of Virginia Woolf's jubilant 1928 novel about a genderfluid aristocrat. The intoxicating iconoclast Taylor Mac, who has been banishing binary thinking for years, plays the title character—an aspiring poet whose wild adventures in life and love span from the Elizabethan era to the present day, and include a spontaneous transition from male to female—and an all-queer chorus of six provides spirited support. On paper, it sounds joyous, but a few things get lost in the translation from page to stage. Orlando | Photograph: Courtesy Joan Marcus To be fair, the source material, a flowery and witty literary love letter to Woolf's longtime paramour Vita Sackville-West, resists adaptation, though many have tried: It’s been the inspiration for multiple previous plays and films, not to mention an opera and a ballet. Ruhl has chosen her favorite scenes carefully, and makes good use of Woolf's lush language. But the play's episodic nature is too much tell, not enough show. The supporting actors serve as a collective of narrators who also give broad interpretations of Orlando's many acquaintances, lovers and suitors; standouts include Nathan Lee Graham, who gets laughs just from cocking an eyebrow as a bitchy Queen Elizabeth, and Lisa Kron as a heavily accented noble. Bu

Theater review by Raven SnookAn indie theater company is staging a depiction of the highly fraught relationship between liberty advocate Thomas Jefferson and his enslaved lover Sally Hemings. But this period drama extends into an ellipsis thanks to metatheatrical echoes: Its writer, Luce (an excellent Sheria Irving), and its director, Mike (Gabriel Ebert), play the show’s leading roles and are also romantically linked in real life. That’s the premise of Suzan-Lori Parks’s Sally & Tom, and it’s a pregnant one.  Luce is losing control of her creative vision, thanks to a meddlesome unseen producer who delivers inane suggestions via Post-it Notes. So it’s no surprise that her play—titled The Pursuit of Happiness, at the benefactor’s insistence—is a stodgy snooze. Unfortunately, it constitutes much of Act I. There are amusing depictions of downtown theater's DIY aesthetics, and of the microaggressions that underlie the multicultural troupe's camaraderie; and Luce’s play includes searing monologues for Jefferson and for Sally's brother James (Alano Miller). But most of this first half feels like a slow setup. Sally & Tom | Photograph: Courtesy Joan Marcus It’s in Act II that the two stories begin to intertwine in discomfiting and revelatory ways, as Luce fights for her freedom: from selling out, from white male fragility, from the legacy of slavery. Her spellbinding 11- o’clock monologue, which graphically describes what Jefferson did to the teenage Sally—"Reparations? Please. The

Theater review by Raven Snook No set to speak of, no fancy costumes, nowhere for the actors to hide: Director Jamie Lloyd's signature clinical style is just what the doctor ordered for The Effect, Lucy Prebble's brain-tingling meditation on what makes us tick. The play centers on two participants in an antidepressant drug trial in England, who flout the study’s rules against fraternization: flirty jokester Tristan (Paapa Essiedu, charm incarnate) and wary Canadian psychology student Connie (Taylor Russell).  That the two of them have chemistry is undeniable. But is that just a product of the chemicals they’re ingesting? Connie dismisses it as medically induced, while Tristan has more faith in his heart's desire. Observing them are Dr. Lorna James (Michele Austin, fabulously dry), a psychiatrist with depression struggles of her own, who has a loaded history with her supervisor, Dr. Toby Sealey (Kobna Holdbrook-Smith), a proselytizer for the psychopharm industry. The Effect | Photograph: Courtesy Marc Brenner At Lloyd's behest for this production—which premiered at London's National Theatre last year and has now moved to the Shed—Prebble has made judicious changes to her 2012 work, streamlining it to one act and adding dialogue that acknowledges the backgrounds of the all-Black ensemble. (The new racial element adds shades of Tuskegee.) Even at 100 minutes, it feels a bit too long and too slick, especially in the paralleling of the pairs' relationships and in a far-fetched lat

Theater review by Raven Snook  Fiasco Theater, ever daring, sails straight into the storm of Shakespeare’s nautical adventure Pericles. The wild shifts of narrative and tone in this rarely revived tragicomedy-romance tend to leave audiences feeling a little green. But the troupe's enchanting blend of low-tech story-theater and music make this rocky epic of the high seas sing. The Prince of Tyre sets out to win the hand of a fair princess, but runs afoul of her nasty father. In fleeing, he launches a sequence of adventures filled with love, loss, pirates and multiple shipwrecks (beautifully conjured with sheets and sound effects). Did I mention incest, sex trafficking and attempted murder?  Fiasco makes magic out of this mess by streamlining the text and incorporating stirring songs by director Ben Steinfeld—who also portrays troubadour-narrator Gower—and adding clarifying prose passages from The Painful Adventures of Pericles by George Wilkins (who allegedly wrote the first two acts of the play). The merry cast of nine, switching characters as deftly as costumes, leans into the comedy, which makes the later scenes of grief, heartbreak and unexpected reunion all the more moving. Perhaps the riskiest choice in this rollicking reinvention is the multiple casting of the royal title character, who's played by a succession of different actors: Paco Tolson, Tatiana Wechsler, Noah Brody and Devin E. Haqq. Though initially confounding, this innovation ultimately pays off as life-alter

Theater review by Raven Snook  Eddie Izzard's experience as a marathon runner comes in handy in Hamlet, her one-woman workout of Shakespeare's classic. In addition to playing 23 different parts, she sprints around the theater, even up to the balcony, and fights herself in the climactic duel. It's an ambitious undertaking, and her passion for the play is evident. But it's not so much a triumph as a tour de forced.Like her recent solo version of Great Expectations—which was also adapted by her brother, Mark Izzard,  and directed by Selina Cadell—this show is all about Eddie. The set is minimal, the props are nonexistent and the costume is just vinyl pants and a smart Tudoresque blazer. Izzard's performance and Tyler Elich's moody lighting are tasked with all the emotional heavy lifting. Unsurprisingly given her standup background, she does well with the comic roles: Her ingenious take on Rosencrantz and Guildenstern would make Tom Stoppard giggle, her stiff-gaited Polonius is a garrulous hoot and the Cockney Gravediggers are fun. Aside from a few stumbles, she speaks the reams of verse trippingly, and her delivery of the play's most famous speeches, particularly Hamlet's "To be or not to be" soliloquy, are thoughtful and lucid. But as dynamic as Izzard is to watch as she spins around switching characters, she's no Shakespearean shapeshifter, and that dilutes the power of this tragedy. It's tough to become invested in this dense tale of a volatile prince avenging his father's mu

Theater review by Raven Snook  Most plays about the plight of European Jews during the Holocaust feature nameless Nazis as the villains. But Our Class, an epic history-based drama by Polish playwright Tadeusz Słobodzianek, is about the familiarity of evil. Ten classmates in a rural Polish town—five Catholic, five Jewish—grow up bantering and bickering, flirting and fighting, in the 1920s and 1930s. There's an undercurrent of antisemitism, but also genuine camaraderie. The upheaval caused by the invasions of the Soviets and the Germans, however, frays their bonds and sets the stage for a ghastly 1941 pogrom, when the Catholics annihilate the majority of the community's Jews—but not before some of these lifelong friends rape and beat others to death. Igor Golyak, an adventurous director known for his high-tech take on The Cherry Orchard a few seasons back, employs minimalism for maximum impact. A chalkboard backdrop ominously displays the characters' names, birth and death dates. A Jewish couple begs for help through the grate of the catwalk. The actors draw childlike faces on balloons that stand in for victims of genocide. Abram (an empathetic Richard Topol), a Jewish classmate who moves to the US before the chaos of World War II, stays in touch with them via video messages—an anachronistic touch that helps connect the action to today’s world.  Our Class | Photograph: Pavel Antonov A virtuosic international ensemble keeps this harrowing material from becoming too much, demand

Theater review by Raven Snook Tennessee Williams's rarely revived The Night of the Iguana is a long, dazed journey into night. Reverend T. Lawrence Shannon (Tim Daly), a defrocked priest turned tour guide with a taste for liquor and underage liaisons, is at the end of his rope when he arrives at a dead friend's seaside hotel in 1940 Mexico. His pal’s fiery widow, Maxine (Daphne Rubin-Vega), welcomes him with open legs; she's prone to straddling him on the hammock. Shannon initially tries to salvage his job—his Baptist ladies' tour group, led by Lea DeLaria's barking doyenne, has many reasons to dislike him—but ends up debating spirituality, sex, sanity and suicide with fellow traveler Hannah (Jean Lichty), an impoverished New England sketch artist wandering the world with her nonagenarian grandfather (Austin Pendleton).  Shannon is a hard guy to tolerate, let alone love, and Daly's erratic performance does the play no favors. He improves in the latter half as his character unravels and spars with Hannah, a beatific spinster who turns out to be his celibate soul mate; their late-night heart-to-heart in the third act includes some of Williams's most achingly beautiful and empathetic writing. If only Lichty—who runs La Femme Theatre Productions, which is behind this mounting—were up to the job. With hair that obscures her face and an unmodulated delivery that obscures her words, she doesn't seem capable of captivating anyone, and director Emily Mann's lugubrious pacing only make

Theater review by Raven Snook  Gavin Creel's many charms are exhibited well in Walk on Through: Confessions of a Museum Novice, his heartfelt new song cycle about the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Creel’s splendid tenor and easygoing wit have made him a busy Broadway leading man for decades. This concert-style show finds him singing and songwriting in a different and more reflective mode: It’s art about the art of appreciating art. Although the narrative touches lightly on his early and midlife crises—his gay childhood in a religious environment, his isolation during the pandemic, a failed romance—this show is no confessional. Backed by an exuberant four-member band, which he sometimes joins on piano or harmonium, Creel shares what his many visits to the Met have taught him about the creations on display and, more movingly, about himself. David Bengali's projections conjure works that Creel responds to: the chiseled Greek and Roman statues that fire up his lust, the kinetic Jackson Pollock chaos that appeals to his disorderly brain, the cacophonous Joan Snyder colors that capture his imagination. His 17 accomplished original songs, infused with catchy pop and gospel, celebrate the power of art to interrogate, inspire and connect; no wonder the museum commissioned him to write them. Walk on Through: Confessions of a Museum Novice | Photograph: Courtesy Joan Marcus  While Walk on Through is occasionally self-indulgent, it's more often endearing, funny and relatable, and makes yo

Theater review by Raven Snook The genuine friendship between Michael Shannon and Paul Sparks distinguishes the latest major New York staging of Samuel Beckett's absurdist landmark Waiting for Godot. As the melancholy Gogo and the upbeat Didi, two tramps killing time in limbo as they wait for a visit that may never come, the actors share a palpable mutual affection; their long collaborative history, which includes The Killer onstage and Boardwalk Empire on TV, imbues their relationship with breathtaking verisimilitude. You really believe these guys have been bickering for as long as they can remember. Theatre for the New Audience's resident director Arin Arbus, known for her lucid mountings of classics, eschews stylization or high concept. The design is quintessential Godot: Scenic designer Riccardo Hernández's dusty thrust stage is dominated by one sorry tree, and Susan Hilferty's ratty costumes are topped with beaten-up bowlers. This Godot isn't commenting on any particular crisis, just the cruelty of existence itself. Like anyone who has lived long enough, Gogo and Didi have seen some shit.  As usual, Act I—in which Beckett establishes the tramps’ repetitive rhythms—is a bit of a slog. Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart masked the tedium by leaning into comedy in the play’s 2013 Broadway revival, but Shannon and Sparks don't hide their characters' desperation or dysfunction; they want their despondency to be infectious. They excel at bringing out the aching humanity in these

Theater review by Raven SnookAs you enter through the sequined labial flaps of a vagina and slip down its hot-pink passage to the theater, you may assume you're in for a good time. But entertainment isn't all that co-conspirators Becca Blackwell and Amanda Duarte have on their filthy minds in Snatch Adams & Tainty McCracken Present It's That Time of the Month. A mock talk show hosted by a friendly, clown-nosed vulva (Blackwell) and a pervy, testicle-sporting taint (Duarte), this heavily improvised evening feels like a sex-ed episode of Pee-wee's Playhouse, rated NC-17. Amanda Villalobos and Greg Corbino designed the appropriately outré costumes; Corbino's X-traordinary set—an oversize pair of spread-eagled legs—is accented with ovary chairs, spiraling fallopian tubes and bloody maxi pads. There are audience participation challenges, like a sanitary-belt-tying race and a herpes-sore toss. There are gross-out moments, including flying fake feces, extended fart noises and oatmeal (I hope!) depicting vaginal discharge. There are countless cooch-related puns, sketches and trivia. (It's astounding how ignorant some grown-ups are about vaginas.) And other people unexpectedly pop in, including a "slit crew" that helps with the gags and a different interviewee at each performance. (The comedian, singer and self-described "gynecological wonder" Bridget Everett was the special guest on the night I attended.) Snatch Adams & Tainty McCracken Present It's That Time of the Month | Photogr

Theater review by Raven SnookAriel Levy and John Turturro's stage adaptation of Sabbath's Theater begins with a bang: The lecherous, over-the-hill puppeteer Mickey Sabbath (Turturro) and his insatiable Croatian mistress, Drenka (Elizabeth Marvel), schtup with abandon in the opening scene. But the play goes flaccid fast. Despite the transgressiveness of the source material—the late Philip Roth's scabrous novel, considered a masterpiece by some and purely masturbatory by others—the play is an impotent affair, with three excellent actors working awfully hard to screw inert vignettes into a whole.Turturro was a longtime friend of Roth’s who almost starred in a solo version of Portnoy's Complaint, and his loyalty is evident. Long passages from the novel are delivered directly to the audience, like a stand-up comic’s monologues, but the same writing that is outrageously fun and raw on the page tends to fall flat in this form. The play’s two-person scenes are more engaging—especially when the marvelous Marvel is involved—but distilling a time-hopping, 400-page exploration of mortality and immorality into a coherent 100 minutes is folly. When Drenka's death inspires Mickey to go on an odyssey through his sordid past, Marvel and Jason Kravits incarnate a disparate array of unloved ones from his narcissistic life: his dead mother, his alcoholic wife, a wary friend, an ancient cousin and more. It's tough to follow and even tougher to swallow.Director Jo Bonney does her best to keep the

It was an unexpectedly dramatic way to return to Broadway. The night before the first preview of Patriots—which chronicles how the Russian oligarch Boris Berezovsky helped Vladimir Putin rise to power—the play’s star, Michael Stuhlbarg, was randomly attacked near Central Park. Fortunately, he was fine. Stuhlbarg even pursued his assailant: a fitting move, given how Berezovsky always went after his enemies.Patriots is Stuhlbarg's first Broadway performance since he earned a 2005 Tony nomination for his chilling turn in The Pillowman. Since then, he's become a sought-after character actor on television and in films, equally adept at icy villains, blustery braggarts and sympathetic victims. Berezovsky is all three at once and, like many of Stuhlbarg's most acclaimed performances—Richard Sackler in Dopesick, Arnold Rothstein in Boardwalk Empire, Edward G. Robinson in Trumbo—he's also a real-life figure.  A wunderkind mathematician who became a bully of a billionaire, Berezovsky survived political animosity (and an assassination attempt) as he used his money, influence and power to remake his homeland. Installing Putin as president was part of his plan, but the two men turned out to have very different visions for Mother Russia. Stuhlbarg says he feels "a great responsibility" to get Berezovsky right in Patriots, a 2022 work by recent history specialist Peter Morgan (The Crown). A few days before Patriots’ first performance and the assault that landed Stuhlbarg in the headlines, h

Photograph: Josh Lehrer   Sara Bareilles spent more than a decade in the spotlight as a platinum-selling pop pioneer before getting a taste of backstage artistry as the songwriter for Waitress, which earned her a 2016 Tony nomination for Best Score. But when original lead Jessie Mueller gave notice, Bareilles realized it was the perfect opportunity to take her star turn—after all, she’d been dreaming of performing on Broadway since childhood. On March 31, Bareilles slips into the practical shoes of Jenna, a downtrodden but dream-filled waitress with an abusive husband, a baby on the way, a talent for baking pies, and a very complicated love life.  Why did you decide to go into the show now?  The perfect confluence of circumstance. I had thought that, maybe after I did my next record, I would join the show for a short period of time. But it just kind of dawned on me: I’m as close to the show as I’ll ever be right now. It’s been really exciting and fun over the rehearsal process to see the character emerge from myself. I had such a wonderful experience discovering her from the inside out as I was writing the songs; now to get to interpret it as the storyteller onstage feels like a nice full-circle moment.  Is your take on the role very different from Mueller’s?  There are sort of natural differences that are emerging. Jessie and I are two different humans so we just kind of move through the world a little differently. Also, my scene partners are different.  That’s right: Wil

★★★☆☆Wes (Jeremy Pope)—a self-obsessed millennial aspiring fashion designer—just wants to be loved. So does this heartfelt yet disappointingly maudlin musical about the good old, bad old days of being gay in the '70s. After fleeing NYC and buying a decrepit building in his hometown of New Orleans to turn into a store, Wes is magically transported back 40-plus years when the space served as a gay bar full of colorful queer folk. There's Henri (Frenchie Davis, the best singer of the bunch), the lesbian who runs the joint. Buddy (Randy Redd), the resident pianist who passes as straight out in the streets. Willie (Nathan Lee Graham, the audience favorite), a sass master seemingly channeling Lola from Kinky Boots. Puerto Rican drag queen Freddy (Michael Longoria) and his supportive mom/stylist Inez (Nancy Ticotin). Richard (Benjamin Howes) sporting a clerical collar though he's singing with the choir, not converting them. And a pair of hustlers: the stud Patrick (Taylor Frey, crush-worthy) and the dud, Dale (Ben Mayne, making a scary guy sympathetic). That's a lot of disparate characters to pack into a one-act musical, which may be why they're painted and (mostly) played in such broad strokes under Scott Ebersold's unsubtle direction. Each one gets a big, defining song in the spotlight, but it soon starts to feel like a pride parade of gay archetypes.The story, such as it is, involves Wes getting schooled in queer history, and realizing he has it pretty good compared to the genera

★★★☆☆A dual coming-of-age tale set in ’80s suburban South Carolina, writer-director Erica Schmidt's raw one-act drama at the New Group juxtaposes the first sexual encounters of a pair of 14-year-old BFFs as they pursue their respective crushes. While this is hardly virgin territory, there's a stinging authenticity to their awkward interactions that's alternately hilarious and horrifying.You can tell by her junk-food diet and how long she stays out at night that lifelong townie Jenny (Abigail Breslin, struggling a bit) lacks a stable home life. Meanwhile relative newcomer Emily (Isabelle Fuhrman, excellent) is keen to shake up her sheltered existence. Their wildly different backgrounds inform their choices of lovers: Jenny picks Smiths-crooning senior Adam (Alex Wolff, spot-on) while Jenny takes up with Joseph, a 28-year-old man from church (Joe Tippett, letting glimmers of humanity shine through the sleaze). Organized into a series of two-person scenes, All the Fine Boys falls into a predictable rhythm, though a few necessarily stomach-churning sequences jolt. You'll probably know where these ladies are headed long before they do, but that comes from experience—and that's exactly what they go in search of, with life-changing results.Pershing Square Signature Center (Off Broadway). Written and directed by Erica Schmidt. With ensemble cast. Running time: 1hr 40mins. No intermission. Through Mar 26. Click here for full venue and ticket information.Keep up with the latest news an

      You think your job's a nightmare? Be thankful you're not one of the four desperate corporate drones trying to save their company (and hence, themselves) over one insane night in Brian Parks's zippy and loopy romp. This quartet is so stressed out, they pee themselves when chastised by the (unseen) Chairman. This must be how Trump's staffers feel.Like Parks's previous Gemini CollisionWorks show, last year's riotous The Golfer, Enterprise values linguistic acrobatics and absurd exchanges over narrative. The story, such as it is, unfurls in brisk, wordplay-packed scenes that end in brief blackouts as Sanders (Fred Backus), Landry (Adam Files), Weaver (Derrick Peterson) and Owens (Alyssa Simon) brainstorm cockamamie ways to save the day. As befits their sports-inspired surnames, they play a lot of games, suffer from infighting and form various alliances, though even before they get to the animal sacrifice you sense the keycards are stacked against them.The success of a surreal comedy like this is all in the timing. And the performers, though impressively committed, are still finding their rhythm under the directorial hand of Parks's frequent conspirator Ian W. Hill. The blustery Backus is most consistently entertaining, though the other three have moments. From a design standpoint, it's pretty bare-bones, but Kaitlyn Day's costumes are appropriately soulless and Hill's clever music choices often provide apt buttons to the vignettes. Like an entry-level job, Enterprise may no

      No one emerges unscathed from Paul Cameron Hardy’s insightful new play—including the audience. What starts as a raunchy comedy about a pair of low-level porn-industry pals escalates into something darker and poignant: a searing portrait of an alt-righter as a youngish man.Trevor (Eric T. Miller, painfully convincing) is the quintessential straight, clueless white dude, a no-name adult-film performer prone to casual racist and sexist behavior who pretends to be a party boy but deep down knows he’s tanking. His ambitious African-American roommate and coworker, Shawn (the charming RJ Brown), is constantly chilling with their new Asian neighbor, Alice (Jennifer Tsay, pitch-perfect). Trevor got Shawn into the biz, and they have a longtime codependent bromance, but as the latter moves up and on, his buddy unravels. Effectively staged by RJ Tolan and produced by EST’s emerging-writers collective Youngblood, Hardy’s sly one-act seduces with raucous laughs, then slowly shifts as tension builds within this sad, scary man. Politics are never mentioned, and yet, in the shadow of our catastrophic election, we know Trevor shouldn’t be dismissed as harmless. Mope’s sex talk and nudity aren’t what shock; the way it exposes our society’s just-below-the-surface fury is what truly jolts. Ensemble Studio Theatre (Off Broadway). By Paul Cameron Hardy. Directed by RJ Tolan. With ensemble cast. Running time: 1hr 45mins. No intermission. Through Feb 19. Click here for full ticket and venue inf

Paola Lázaro has her heart in the right place: the slums of Old San Juan in her native Puerto Rico. This is a side of the island that tourists rarely see, and like many dramatists before her—August Wilson comes to mind—she knows that the everyday struggles of the underprivileged can be imbued with poetry and epic emotion. Unfortunately, the dozen downtrodden characters in Lázaro’s debut play, Tell Hector I Miss Him, are more likely to try your patience than inspire your empathy. This is no fault of the production’s capable actors, nearly all Latino, who bring authenticity to somewhat stereotypically written roles as addicts, abusers, adolescents and amantes. Some of their intertwined stories are engaging, such as one in which a sick schoolgirl (Yadira Guevara-Prip) crushes on the local sexpot (Orange is the New Black’s Dascha Polanco); others are tedious, like the one about a lost gringa (Talene Monahon) who spends most of the play meowing. Too many of Lázaro’s neofolktales fall into the second category, and although she has reportedly based some characters on her own family members, there’s a sameness to the way they express themselves. As a young Puerto Rican woman, Lázaro offers a voice and perspective too rarely seen onstage. Maybe next time she’ll have a hit instead of this Miss. Atlantic Stage 2 (Off Broadway). By Paola Lázaro. Directed by David Mendizábal. With ensemble cast. Running time: 2hrs 10mins. One intermission. Click here for full ticket and venue information.

      Who knew Othello could be so funny? The Q Brothers have transformed the bloody tragedy into a rip-roaring, rapped one-act rich with dizzying rhymes. Lest anyone think these B-boys are riding on Hamilton’s red coattails, writers-directors-stars-siblings GQ and JQ pioneered hip-hop theater back in 1999 with their uproarious The Bomb-itty of Errors, inspired by Shakespeare’s similarly titled romp. Othello: The Remix, commissioned by Shakespeare’s Globe, is their first stab at a non-comedy, yet you wouldn’t know it from all the laughs and jokey references to Jay Z, D&D and Game of Thrones.The narrative is reset in the music industry, with MC Othello (Postell Pringle) sparking jealousy and a murderous plan in his presumed pal Iago (GQ) by mentoring wannabe Cassio (a broad Jackson Doran) and marrying diva Desdemona (represented by a disembodied voice). Joined by JQ, the quartet plays all the characters, tackling quick changes as deftly as tongue-twisting text against DJ Supernova’s slick beats. Yet only Pringle attempts to find the gravitas in the tale and, bizarrely, racial strife is practically ignored. The show is clever and exhilarating, but also a missed opportunity—as if the creators were looking at the green-eyed monster through rose-colored glasses.Westside Theatre (Off Broadway). Written, composed and directed by GQ and JQ. With ensemble cast. Running time: 1hr 20mins. No intermission. Click here for full ticket and venue information.Keep up with the latest news and

      It can't be a coincidence that the last time Irish Rep shared its scaled-down revival of this tuneful Burton Lane–Yip Harburg musical in 2004, it was also an election year. Though written in 1947, this fairy tale-romance-cum-social satire touches on still-relevant issues such as racism, income inequality, shady politicians and predatory lending.Not that you go to Finian's Rainbow for its narrative. After all, one generation's progressivism seems quaint (or, worse, backward) to its descendants. Plotwise, it's sentimental blarney about an old Irishman named Finian (spry sexagenarian Ken Jennings—the original Tobias in Sweeney Todd!) and his daughter, Sharon (Tony nominee Melissa Errico reprising her 2004 turn and still managing to pass as an ingénue) immigrating to the mythical Missitucky in the Jim Crow South with a stolen pot of gold—and its rightful Leprechaun owner, Og (Mark Evans), in hot pursuit. After misunderstandings, accusations of witchcraft and some magic, they find love and prosperity in their new homeland while teaching a racist Senator (Dewey Caddell) a thing or two about tolerance.Even if that description makes you gag, the glorious songs—which make up most of the two-hour run time thanks to director Charlotte Moore's judicious book cuts—should win you over. Backed by a four-piece, string-heavy band (piano, harp, cello, and fiddle), the 13 unamplified cast members are in superb voice throughout. It's hard to pick highlights, but Angela Grovey raises the ro

      With Americans on the cusp of (fingers crossed!) electing our first female President, Betty Shamieh's cheeky reimagining of how a woman named Hatshepsut became Pharaoh 3,500-plus years ago feels appropriately timely. Mercifully, Fit for a Queen is no staid historical drama. It's a transhistorical mash-up of sensibilities that dispenses with the facts in favor of a feminist farce, albeit one about serious subjects such as slavery, subjugation and sexism.The cast is draped in costume designer Rachel Dozier-Ezell's alluring, body-baring togas that look more Plato's Retreat than Ancient Egypt. The brief, butt-shaking dance interludes that facilitate scene changes are choreographed to percussion and funk. And the language and accents ping-pong between old-time poetical and modern-day street. This aesthetic fluidity is mirrored in the story, which seems like a lesbian variation on Macbeth as Queen Hatshepsut (April Yvette Thompson, campier than a RuPaul's Drag Race contestant) is encouraged to go for the throne by any means necessary by her favorite slave/lover, Senenmut (Sheria Irving, a standout). While Senenmut's machinations are in large part self-serving—she wants to move up in the world and keep her mistress busy so she can fool around with dudes—she also sees the bigger picture. Like her real-life namesake (who was male), she was of lowly birth but savvy enough to earn a spot at the royal court, and she thinks if the Queen becomes King, it will benefit all women. Sadly

      No-holds-barred roast diva and formerly fat (her word) stand-up comic, Lisa Lampanelli gives us a lot to chew on with her first play: a plotless meditation on the food and body-image issues that plague many women. Featuring four ladies of varying dysfunctions and sizes—including Lampanelli, who famously dropped more than 100 pounds thanks to gastric sleeve surgery a few years back—the show aims for real and raw but comes off as stilted and stale from the first course on.Stuffed begins with the quartet enthusing about their favorite foods directly to the audience before settling into an unstructured living room gabfest, complete with a fridge stocked with snacks. Bulimic Britney (Jessica Luck, struggling) survived abuse. Unwitting "skinny bitch" Katey (Eclipsed's Zainab Jah, woefully miscast) had a disapproving mother and absent father. Stacey (the always adorable Ann Harada, doing all she can) is happy being "big." (Maybe a size 12, she's the largest woman onstage and far from obese.) And Lisa (Lampanelli) chews the scenery as herself.Though each woman gets her own meaty, melodramatic monologue, none transcends her stereotype, save for Lampanelli. That's not surprising considering the neophyte playwright has decades of experience penning intoxicatingly profane, first-person material for her routines, plus a 2009 memoir. Stuffed was initially conceived as an autobiographical one-woman show until she decided to expand it. Yet the evening fares best when the so-called "Que

      In a volatile era when the ongoing battle against systemic racism is usually broken down into black and white, the title of Brian Quijada's new solo show seems poised to explode that binary misconception. And there are moments when this charismatic multi-hyphenate (performer-poet-playwright-rapper-live looper-musician) starts to go down that complicated road, where the potential to educate or offend loom about equal. Yet in the end, Quijada settles for an autobiographical, child-of-first-generation-immigrants tale, which is likeable and relatable, if not particularly revelatory.If he were an artist of lesser talents, it might not matter. But the Chicago run of this heartfelt confessional—which he's been developing for two years with director Chay Yew—earned him comparisons to Lin-Manuel Miranda and John Leguizamo. I don't think those are apt (moreover, they're possibly racist). However, it's clear that the young Quijada is something special. He's just playing it too safe.After proposing to his white girlfriend, Quijada—whose El Salvadoran parents originally entered the U.S. illegally—wonders what life will be like for their as-yet-unborn, mixed-heritage children. Using his ethnicity as connective tissue, he traces his entire life, from inside his mother's womb, to the Chicago suburbs, to college, to his move to NYC to be an actor. His impersonations of a not-always-supportive mom and dad are alternately amusing and affecting. He tells a wonderful tall tale about a made-