860 (Imperial Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

Billy Crystal’s 860, the extraordinary one-man show built around the life-altering loss of his beloved Pacific Palisades home in the devastating fires of January 2025, is an unexpectedly moving theatrical accomplishment. There are plenty of laughs, naturally, as Crystal takes us on a wonderfully entertaining journey through his life and career. But the mood shifts almost imperceptibly, and then overwhelmingly, to poignancy as he recounts the harrowing events of the fire: the hurried evacuation with his wife, Janice, and the devastating moment when he learned, watching television news, that the house they had called home for 46 years was gone.

Crystal and Janice had purchased the house in 1979, and its destruction meant the loss of not merely a cherished residence but a lifetime’s accumulation of memories and personal treasures. Indeed, the show's title refers to the house's address, now indelibly associated with that loss.

Before arriving at that emotional center, however, Crystal offers a rich assortment of reminiscences, many of them hilarious. He recalls his early days opening for Blood, Sweat and Tears, a particularly fraught engagement thanks to the mercurial behavior of lead singer David Clayton-Thomas. There are delightful recollections of meeting Muhammad Ali, which blossomed into a deep and lasting friendship, and of encountering his boyhood idol, New York Yankees great Mickey Mantle. Robin Williams and Jack Nicholson also figure in the recollections, as do various episodes from a career that has taken Crystal from stand-up comedy to television and film stardom.

Especially touching are his memories of Rob Reiner, with whom he shared an extraordinary professional and personal friendship. Crystal frames this tribute at the same time he honors Norman Lear, whose casting of Crystal as Reiner’s best friend on All in the Family helped establish their enduring connection. Reiner's death, coming not long after the fire, is acknowledged with admirable understatement. Looking back on the performance, one realizes that virtually all these stories, however entertaining and funny in themselves, carry an underlying elegiac quality.

What makes 860 so affecting, beyond the beauty and delicacy of Crystal’s writing, is his masterful delivery. At 78, he holds the vast Imperial Theatre stage effortlessly, with the ease of a consummate performer who knows precisely how to command an audience. His timing remains impeccable, but it is his ability to modulate the emotional temperature, moving from a comic anecdote to an intimate moment of reflection, that is most impressive. In the later passages, the theater becomes so quiet you could hear a proverbial pin drop. These moments have genuine gravitas.

The staging provides a particularly apt visual framework. Scott Pask’s scenic design recreates the interior of Crystal’s former home, with its awards, posters, and accumulated memorabilia, offering a poetic backdrop for the reminiscences. I was reminded of the famous opening of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” Like that vanished estate, Crystal’s house has become something of a repository of an entire life, its physical absence making its remembered presence all the more powerful.

Hana S. Kim and Kylee Loera’s video design, incorporating family photographs, career images, and judiciously selected video clips, expands the narrative without overwhelming it. Excerpts from Crystal’s early television appearances, including Soap and Saturday Night Live, and clips from his iconic movies provide welcome reminders of the breadth of his career. These are balanced by the much more sobering images of the fire and its aftermath. The visual material is never merely decorative; it adds resonance to the stories being told.

Director Scott Ellis deserves considerable credit for the beautifully judged pacing, allowing the comedy its full measure while giving the more painful recollections room to breathe. Marc Shaiman’s original music and adaptations add another valuable dimension, subtly enriching the emotional texture. Jen Schriever’s lighting and Dan Moses Schreier’s sound design further contribute to the production’s polished theatrical presentation.

Ultimately, 860 is about much more than the destruction of a house. It is about a lifetime of friendships and experience, and the memories that remain when home and possessions have disappeared. Crystal has fashioned an unusually personal theatrical experienceg. That he accomplishes all this while holding an audience in the palm of his hand is a testament to his gifts as both writer and performer.

(Imperial Theatre , 249 W 45th Street;  billycrystal860.com; through Feb. 14)

Photo by Avery Brunkus: Billy Crystal

Other Desert Cities (Hudson Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

Handsomely designed for the long Hudson Theatre stage, this first Broadway revival of Jon Robin Baitz’s Other Desert Cities boasts a superlative cast, even if the mountng, directed by John Benjamin Hickey, doesn't quite make the impression of the original Lincoln Center Theater production, which subsequently transferred to Broadway. Of course, it may simply be that the play, when it first appeared in 2011, had the advantage of freshness. (A bit of Broadway history: Judith Light replaced Linda Lavin when the production transferred, earning Light a Tony Award, while Rachel Griffiths took over for Elizabeth Marvel.)

The chief attraction this time around is the Broadway debut of Julia Louis-Dreyfus in the role of Polly, originated by Stockard Channing. Louis-Dreyfus handles Baitz’s barbed dialogue and withering put-downs with considerable authority. Allison Janney is predictably fine as Polly’s acerbic, recovering-alcoholic sister Silda, while Ed Harris makes a solid, increasingly commanding presence as Polly’s husband, Lyman. Joe Keery is marvelous as their son Trip, a television producer who has some particularly strong moments in the second act.

Lily Rabe, fresh from the Delacorte Theatre’s The Winter’s Tale, is less consistently successful as Brooke, the troubled daughter who has long harbored resentment toward her parents over their treatment of her late brother. Rabe is an accomplished actress, as she has demonstrated repeatedly, but she has a tendency toward stridency in highly emotional scenes, something evident here as well as in her summer Shakespeare performance. Harris, meanwhile, builds nicely toward a powerful confrontation with Brooke in the second act.

The play, set at Christmas in 2004, finds Polly, a former Hollywood screenwriter, and Lyman, a one-time Western movie star and diplomat, welcoming their daughter Brooke home to their Palm Springs residence. Both parents are prominent figures in the Hollywood Republican establishment. Brooke, who has emerged from a prolonged depression, arrives with what they assume is a novel. The revelation that it is actually a tell-all memoir about the family, including the story of her late brother, changes everything. The brother, a left-wing radical, had been involved in a political bombing that resulted in a death and subsequently took his own life. With the book's publication imminent, her parents are understandably alarmed, and the family gathering quickly becomes an explosive confrontation over loyalty, memory, and the ownership of family history.

Baitz’s play, which premiered in 2011, remains a sturdy and absorbing family drama. Fifteen years on, its political undercurrents and, even more compellingly, its exploration of the competing versions of truth that families construct about themselves continue to resonate with a 2026 audience. What constitutes the truth about a family's past, and who has the right to tell it? Those questions remain as provocative as ever.

The production is handsomely appointed throughout. Scott Pask’s scenic design makes particularly effective use of the Hudson’s expansive stage, while Tom Broecker’s costumes are perfectly suited to the characters. Natasha Katz’s lighting and Mikaal Sulaiman’s sound design and original music are equally accomplished, contributing to the production’s polished atmosphere. Robert Pickens is responsible for the hair and wig design.

(Hudson Theatre, 141 West 44th Street; otherdesertcitiesbroaday.com;  through January 17)

Photo by Emilio Madrid: (l.-r.) Lily Rabe as 'Brooke Wyeth,' Joe Keery as 'Trip Wyeth,' and Julia Louis-Dreyfus as 'Polly Wyeth'

Copperfield! The New Musical (Act Two Theatricals)

By Harry Forbes

I must confess I approached this  latest version of Charles Dickens’s beloved David Copperfield with only modest expectations. But Jeffrey Scharf’s Copperfield! The New Musical, directed and choreographed by Gabriel Barre, proved a most agreeable surprise: a genuinely fine adaptation that distills the sprawling novel into its essentials while remaining remarkably faithful to its source. Unlike, say, last season’s The Count of Monte Cristo at the York Theatre, this is a musicalization that understands the importance of honoring the original material even while reshaping it for the stage.

Scharf, who supplies the book, music, and lyrics, has found a particularly effective thematic thread in David’s lifelong search for a place he can truly call home. The familiar Dickensian procession of hardship, cruelty, friendship, betrayal, and eventual fulfillment is thus given a satisfying narrative coherence, culminating in a most touching conclusion.

The score is eclectic and tuneful, with some particularly jaunty rhythms in the scenes involving Peggotty’s seafaring family. There are inevitable echoes of other musicals drawn from classic literature, but Scharf has a distinctive voice of his own, and the musical palette (superior orchestrations by Sonny Paladino) is consistently appealing. His achievement in condensing Dickens’s hefty narrative while providing such an enjoyable succession of songs deserves considerable credit.

A particularly inspired feature of this production is its company of actor-musicians, who double impressively as instrumentalists, bringing to mind the approach associated with director John Doyle. Here, however, the technique is handled with such naturalness that it never feels like a gimmick. During the narrative passages, the principal players generally put aside their instruments, taking them up again when they’re on the sidelines..

Bobby Conte is excellent as the adult David, with Henry Witcher playing the younger David at the performance I attended. Happily, the two Davids share the stage throughout both acts. Young David is integrated into the action as his older self’s ever-present alter ego and vice versa in the first act. 

The entire company is impressively cast, with no weak links. Kara Mikula is a standout as the formidable Aunt Betsey Trotwood, finding just the right balance of eccentricity and underlying warmth. The familiar Dickens gallery is satisfyingly represented, across the board. 

The entire cast, except for the Davids, play two or more roles. Cathryn Wake, for instance, first appears as David’s loving mother, Clara, in the early scenes and the sweetly vapid Dora in the later ones. The tyrannical Murdstone, David’s abusive stepfather, shows up as unctuous Uriah Heep, both in the person of Will Reynolds.

The rest of the remarkable cast includes Amelia Cormack (Peggotty and Mrs. Micawber), Jed Feder (Ham), the show's musical director Nancy O’Connor (Em’ly), Aaron Michael Ray (Mr. Dick and Tungay), Alexander Sovronsky (Mr. Peggotty, Mr. Creakle, Mr. Quinion, and Mr. Wickfield), Andy Taylor (Mr. Micawber), and Tatiana Wechsler (Agnes Wickfield and Miss Jane Murdstone).

Owen Squire Smith is a standout as the charismatic but ultimately unreliable Steerforth, and he makes a particular impression in Barre’s lively choreography. Barre directs with canny dramatic sense, keeping the episodic story moving while giving the scenes that lend themselves to dance an engaging physicality. The result is a production that feels brisk and theatrical despite the considerable amount of narrative ground it must cover.

The production’s visual elements are equally well judged. Edward Pierce’s multilevel set provides sufficient variety to accommodate the novel’s many locales without cumbersome scene changes, while Jen Caprio’s costumes are richly conceived, helping distinguish the large gallery of characters. Jeff Croiter’s lighting and Shannon Slaton’s sound design are first-rate.

Scharf’s adaptation captures the essential spirit of Dickens, balancing the story’s darker episodes with its generous helping of humor, eccentricity, and hard-won humanity. The audience’s warm reception was entirely understandable. “Copperfield!” is an engaging, affectionately realized tribute to a literary classic, and a welcome reminder that a well-told story, accompanied by appealing music and brought to life by a talented ensemble, can still work theatrical magic.

(The Duke on 42nd Street; 229 W. 42nd Street; CopperfieldTheMusical.com; through Dec. 6) 

Photo by Jeremy Daniel: Amelia Cormack, Jed Feder, Bobby Conte and (top) Alexander Sovronsky

Anon (MCC Theater)

By Harry Forbes

Anne Washburn, whose “Mr. Burns, a post-electric play” imagined the afterlife of civilization, turns in Anon, to a menace already very much among us: the dark underside of social media, where the craving for online attention can blur the line between fantasy and reality, with increasingly disturbing consequences.

The dramedy heats up with a seemingly innocuous provocation: a gay pride flag is unfurled across the street from Jeanie (Crystal Finn), a Texas suburbanite whose single-minded devotion to posting on TikTok initially seems merely an eccentric, if irritating, habit. But as the action unfolds, her online activity takes on a distinctly darker cast, with consequences that reach beyond her own household and into the lives of her new neighbors.

Jeanie’s teenage daughter, Delia (Izabel Mar), is understandably mortified by her mother’s propensity to post personal information about her, potentially causing embarrassment at school. Jeanie’s husband, Michael (Andrew Garman), has also tried to reason with her, but to little avail. As “Anon” progresses, it explores how easily the pursuit of online attention can distort judgment and feed increasingly extreme attitudes. Jeanie becomes a rabid conspiracy theorist embracing all the Qanon rhetoric.

Meanwhile, the other household at the center of the action comprises Adam (Jeff Biehl), an easygoing presence, and his partner, Will (Jeremy Shamos), whose seemingly more conservative outlook grows increasingly militant and paranoid as he becomes caught up in the TikTok mentality himself when they learn Jeanie’s been posting about them.

The performances are uniformly excellent. Finn is a particular gem as Jeanie, initially comic in her zeal, but with a darker undertow that steadily becomes more pronounced. Biehl brings an appealing natural ease to Adam, while Garman makes a sympathetic, long-suffering Michael. Mar is affecting as Delia. And Shamos compellingly traces Will’s transformation from apparent restraint to something far more aggressive.

A growing atmosphere of foreboding is reinforced by Delia’s school assignment: to compose a monologue for a Shakespearean character who has no such speech. Her choice of Goneril, one of the treacherous daughters in King Lear, adds resonance to the play’s stormy climax.

Director Anne Kauffman keeps the narrative gripping throughout, making effective use of an otherwise largely gray set that serves as the respective homes of the two families. Projected text messages are a frequent feature, and there’s articularly inventive fantasy video sequence that opens the second act, laying bare the increasingly rabid tenor of Jeanie’s online postings.

Washburn’s cautionary tale is all the more unsettling for suggesting that the consequences of online extremism are anything but confined to the virtual world.

Anon is never less than absorbing, and increasingly suspenseful as it progresses.

(MCC Theater’s Newman Mills Theater (511 W 52nd Street, New York, NY 10019; mcctheater.org; through Nov. 1)

Photo by Monique Carboni: (l.-r.) Andrew Garman, Izabel Mar, and Crystal Finn

School Girls; Or, The African Mean Girls Play

By Harry Forbes

I didn’t catch Jocelyn Bioh’s marvelous play School Girls; Or, The African Mean Girls Play when it premiered at MCC in 2017, but Manhattan Theatre Club’s new production is a gem. Directed with confident flair by Whitney White, who previously collaborated with Bioh on MTC’s acclaimed Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, this Broadway premiere delivers a deliciously funny, ultimately touching portrait of adolescent cruelty, the tyranny of beauty standards, and the painful business of discovering who you are.

Set in 1986 at Aburi (pronounced Ehh-Bree) Girls Boarding School in central Ghana, the play revolves around Paulina, the self-appointed queen bee of the school, whose ambitions extend well beyond the classroom. When a recruiter arrives seeking candidates for the Miss Ghana pageant, Paulina assumes she, among all the girls, will be chosen. But the arrival of Ericka, a transfer student from America, upends these assumptions and turns the competition into something considerably more personal.

The cast is a beautifully integrated ensemble, with Denée Benton particularly striking as Paulina. Those accustomed to seeing Benton as the appealingly earnest budding journalist on HBO’s The Gilded Age will encounter quite another creature here: a ruthless schemer who amply earns the title of mean girl. Jasmine Amy Rogers, gearing up for her starring role in Lincoln Center Theater’s The Sound of Music, makes a worthy foil as Ericka.

Erin Morton is an audience favorite as Nana, the plus-size schoolgirl who bears the brunt of Paulina’s relentless bullying. Her resilience and vulnerability give the comedy some of its most affecting moments. Heather Alicia Simms lends compassionate authority to Headmistress Francis, while Patina Miller, as recruiter Eloise Amponsah, the former Miss Ghana of 1966, gets a recurring laugh from her character’s proud insistence on that long-ago triumph. It’s a running gag that never wears out its welcome. Lucia Aremu, Nia Otchere-Sarfo, and Jordan Rice round out the talented company.

White’s sharp direction mines Bioh’s play for all its considerable humor without losing sight of the pain beneath the barbs. What begins as a wickedly entertaining comedy of schoolgirl rivalries gradually opens into something more profoundt, touching on questions of identity, self-worth, and colorism. 

The production is handsomely realized. Teresa L. Williams’s atmospheric scenic design establishes the school’s distinctive world, while Qween Jean’s costumes are a particular delight, perfectly capturing the characters’ personalities and aspirations. Stacey Derosier’s lighting and Cody Spencer’s sound contribute to an accomplished technical ensemble.

At 75 minutes, without intermission, School Girls is a compact, expertly calibrated entertainment, one that leaves a more resonant impression than its initial premise might suggest. MTC’s production does full justice to a play that is as perceptiveand profound as it is funny.

Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, 261 West 47th Street; manhattantheatreclub.com; through November 15)

Photo by Matthew Murphy: (l.-r.) Denée Benton and Jasmine Amy Rogers

Birthright (MCC Theater)

By Harry Forbes

Six young adults who met on a Birthright heritage trip to Israel in 2006 reunite at the Annandale, Virginia, home of one of them, Chaya, and then again in 2014 and, finally, in 2024 in Jonathan Spector’s provocative, moving, and often funny play Birthright. Over the years, their individual outlooks on life change, as do their perspectives on Israel and its relationship to the Palestinian situation.

As the play’s publicity material puts it, its themes are “the combustible dynamics of modern friendship and chosen family: the longing to understand each other, the fear of saying the wrong thing, and the pain of realizing that love does not always guarantee agreement.”

As with Spector’s last play, the Tony Award-winning Eureka Day, which centered on the fractious interactions among members of a school board, Birthright leavens its serious issues with plenty of humor and humanity. And, as with that play, the production benefits from a wonderful ensemble cast that handles the frequently overlapping, naturalistic dialogue with aplomb. The play was commissioned and developed by Miami New Drama and received its world premiere there in April 2025.

The cast includes Zoë Winters as the aforementioned Chaya, who hopes to preserve the Jewish camaraderie forged during their trip; Molly Bernard as the passionate activist Izzy; Molly Ranson as the romantically inclined Alona, who, of the group, most wants to move to Israel; and Liz Larsen as Chaya’s mother, Deborah, who supplies some comic relief before later bringing a touch of pathos.

The male contingent comprises Hale Appleman as Lev, the most spiritual member of the group; Nate Mann as the relatively placid aspiring musician Emerson; and Eli Gelb as Noah, a somewhat detached observer whose writing will eventually bring him success on the web.

Spector’s characters are beautifully drawn and are not merely mouthpieces for their particular points of view, especially when it comes to Israel. The lion’s share of those conflicts occurs between Izzy, who sympathizes with Palestinian concerns, and Chaya, who strenuously argues for the justification of Israel’s actions. But even in their disagreements, the issues of friendship and identity remain paramount.

Over the course of the three acts, points of view shift, with several characters undergoing major transformations. The cast is superb at bringing these characters to life over the lengthy three-hour-and-20-minute running time. In terms of both length and characterization, I was reminded of Stereophonic, especially since one of that play’s leads, Eli Gelb, has a major, though quite different, role here.

If you have any qualms about the play’s length, rest assured that the action never drags. And with two intermissions, it hardly feels like an endurance test.

Director Teddy Bergman orchestrates the shifting dynamics with great skill and draws the best from his cast. Scott Pask’s scenic design, illuminated by Natasha Katz, creates a believable environment in the Annandale home and its adjoining terrace, complete with hot tub.

David Bengali’s witty projection design showcases Spector’s frequent use of social-media messages, which were such an amusing and telling element of Eureka Day.

(MCC Theater, 511 W 52nd Street; mcctheater.org; through August 23)

Photo by Emilio Madrid: Zoe Winters, Eli Gelb, Molly Ranson, Nate Mann, Hale-Appleman

The Whoopi Monologues (Lincoln Center Theater)

By Harry Forbes

More than 40 years after Whoopi Goldberg first unveiled her remarkable gallery of characters, The Whoopi Monologues proves that both the writing and its compassionate insights remain as fresh, funny, and affecting as ever.

This time, however, there's no Whoopi. Instead, a cast of five talented actresses each performs one of the five character monologues that Goldberg originally played herself. The fifth monologue, drawn from the 2004 Broadway revival, replaces an earlier piece about a disabled caregiver in an assisted living facility who finds love.

While we miss the pleasure of watching Goldberg's virtuosic transformations from one character to the next, we gain the comparable satisfaction of seeing five vibrantly gifted actresses bring their own distinctive interpretations to these women. The production also allows us to appreciate anew the sturdy literary craftsmanship of Goldberg's writing.

In order of appearance, Kara Young is Fontaine, a junkie thief who, improbably, also holds a Ph.D. A trip to Amsterdam culminates in a profound epiphany at the Anne Frank House. Dominique Fishback is delightful as a young Black girl who longs to resemble the blonde, blue-eyed people she sees on television. Kerry Washington—who also serves as one of the production's producers—plays an archetypal Valley Girl whose cheerful vapidity ultimately leads her poignantly astray. Danielle Pinnock is a hoot as a Jamaican woman who catches the eye of a randy old man she nicknames the "Old Raisin" because of his wrinkles, then accompanies him back to the United States to become his housekeeper—and more. Finally, Kecia Lewis portrays a woman who endures a lifetime of uncomfortable feminine hygiene products before eventually confronting menopause.

Each of these characters is splendidly brought to life. Based on the 1985 HBO recording of Goldberg's original performance, this production appears to remain textually faithful to every word of the script, including the seemingly spontaneous moments of audience interaction.

Studio Bent's scenic design—essentially five dressing rooms from which the actresses make their entrances and exits throughout the evening, while also participating in the brief interstitial moments between monologues—keeps the stage visually engaging, aided by Cha See's evocative lighting. Costume designer Qween Jean (of Cats: The Jellicle Ball) has created outfits that perfectly capture the essence of each character.

Whitney White's direction is consistently pitch-perfect, fashioning a fresh yet deeply reverential approach to material that, as this production demonstrates, has lost none of its power.

(Lincoln Center Theater at the Mitzi E. Newhouse, 150 West 65th Street; through August 30)

Photo by Angela Marie Orellana: Kecia Lewis (foreground) and cast.