Cats: The Jellicle Ball (Broadhurst Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

Watching the current reworking of Cats, I couldn't help recalling my experience at the original Broadway production shortly after it opened. I sat behind an English woman who grew visibly agitated as the evening progressed. During intermission, she sobbed to her companions, "They've ruined it, they've ruined it."

I suspected she had been one of the post-Elaine Paige Grizabellas from the original London production. Whether her distress stemmed from the textual and musical alterations — of which there were several — or simply from a perceived dilution of the show's essential Englishness, I never learned. But I couldn't help wondering, with no small amusement, what she'd make of this hugely revamped revival, now on Broadway following an acclaimed run last year at the Perelman Performing Arts Center.

The show has been thoroughly — and quite brilliantly — reset in the 1980s ballroom culture, where LGBTQ+ performers strutted elaborate costumes on the runway, competing for coveted trophies. Since Cats — based on T.S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats — is essentially a series of vaudeville turns held together by the slenderest of storylines, it adapts surprisingly well to the new treatment.

That said, the concept took some warming to on my part, and I suspect it won't be everyone's cup of tea — though my audience was wildly enthusiastic from the first number. I left the theater feeling I had witnessed something genuinely special.

To the production's credit, the score is played more or less intact, in the correct song order, with lyrics unchanged despite their numerous references to things both feline and quintessentially English. As far as I can tell, only two numbers have been cut entirely: the "Pekes and Pollicles" episode in the first act and "Growltiger's Last Stand" in the second. Otherwise, The Jellicle Ball hews scrupulously to Eliot and composer Andrew Lloyd Webber. The songs don't always fit the literal situations precisely, but they consistently deliver emotional truth.

Lloyd Webber's richly varied score — one of his very best — sounds as good as ever. For all the jokes Cats inspired in its day, it's worth remembering what a boldly audacious concept it was, and what a hot ticket too. The original Trevor Nunn staging, with its iconic Gillian Lynne choreography, made its record-breaking way around the world, and I treasure it still. But this version is entirely its own thing.

Directed by Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch, the production pays poignant homage to the ballroom scene in a moving slide-show montage at the top of Act Two. The reimagined choreography, the clever work of Omari Wiles and Arturo Lyons, crackles with invention. Kai Harada's sound design is, as is too often the case these days, overly amplified — but things settle appropriately for the score's quieter, more reflective moments.

The cast is impressive across the board. André De Shields is a far cry from the richly sonorous bass-baritones of London originator Brian Blessed and Broadway's Ken Page, but he makes Old Deuteronomy entirely his own. "Tempress" Chasity Moore makes Grizabella a genuinely touching outcast and delivers a moving "Memory." Junior LaBeija brings real poignancy to Gus, the aging theater cat. Sydney James Harcourt commands the stage as Rum Tum Tugger, and Robert "Silk" Mason dazzles as Magical Mister Mistoffelees.

The large ensemble alsoincludes Ken Ard (DJ Griddlebone), Kya Azeen (Etcetera), Bryson Battle (Jellylorum), Jonathan Burke (Mungojerrie), Baby Byrne (Victoria), Dava Huesca (Rumpleteazer), Dudney Joseph Jr. (Munkustrap), Leiomy (Demeter), Primo Thee Ballerino (Tumblebrutus), Xavier Reyes (Jennyanydots), Nora Schell (Bustopher Jones), Bebe Nicole Simpson (Demeter), Emma Sofia (Skimbleshanks), Garnet Williams (Bombalurina), and Teddy Wilson Jr. (Sillibub).

Rachel Hauck's evocative set beautifully conjures the ballroom atmosphere, and Qween Jean has a field day with an array of extravagantly dazzling costumes.

(Broadhurst Theatre, 235 West 44th Street; catsthejellicleball.com)

Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman for MurphyMade: Nora Schell as ‘Bustopher Jones’

Schmigadoon! (Nederlander Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

The stage adaptation of the "Schmigadoon!" television series is an absolute delight, surpassing its already amusing source material with a top-flight cast, an expanded score, and an infectious sense of joy. Composer-lyricist-book writer Cinco Paul lovingly spoofs the Golden Age musicals of the 1940s and ’50s, delivering pitch-perfect parodies of iconic numbers from “Oklahoma!,” “Carousel,” “The Music Man,” and others, giving audiences the delicious pleasure of instant recognition.

The story follows Josh Skinner (Alex Brightman) and Melissa Gimble (Sara Chase), a pair of doctors whose relationship has grown stale. While hiking in the woods, they stumble upon a magical town much like the lost travelers of “Brigadoon.” Here, every resident exists as the embodiment of a musical-comedy cliché, bursting into song at the slightest provocation. Josh, however, loathes musicals and stubbornly resists every cue, even when pursued by the aggressively flirtatious Betsy (McKenzie Kurtz), a clear descendant of Ado Annie. Melissa, by contrast, eagerly embraces the fantasy, particularly when she catches the eye of the swaggering carnival barker Danny Bailey (Max Clayton), a thinly veiled riff on Billy Bigelow.

Among the town’s colorful inhabitants are the closeted Mayor Menlove (Brad Oscar) — the name says it all — and his wife Florence (Ann Harada). Maulik Pancholy plays Reverend Layton, who seems to harbor a touching sympathy for the mayor’s predicament, while his domineering wife Mildred (Ana Gasteyer) appoints herself guardian of the town’s morality. Her second-act sendup of “Ya Got Trouble” is one of the evening’s comic high points.

Then there is Doc (Ivan Hernandez), a Captain Von Trapp figure straight out of “The Sound of Music,” who hires Melissa as his nurse, paving the way for a riotously funny parody of “Do-Re-Mi” — this one devoted to explaining human reproduction. Josh, meanwhile, briefly convinces himself that the key to escaping the town may lie with the sweetly wholesome schoolmarm Emma Tate (Isabelle McCalla).

The cast could scarcely be bettered. Though it seems almost criminal to give the powerhouse vocalist Brightman so little actual singing, his deadpan resistance to the town’s relentless cheerfulness makes for a beautifully calibrated comic performance. Chase radiates a realstic initial wariness but succombs chamingly, while Gasteyer nearly steals the show with her thunderously self-righteous Mildred. Oscar and Pancholy lend unexpected poignancy beneath the comedy, and Kurtz and Clayton expertly capture the broad, hearty style of mid-century musical leads.

Christopher Gattelli, who choreographed the television version, handles both staging and choreography here with enormous flair and buoyancy. Scott Pask’s set vividly conjures the candy-colored world of Golden Age Broadway, enhanced by Donald Holder’s glowing lighting and Linda Cho’s witty, character-defining costumes. Walter Trarbach’s sound design, meanwhile, strikes an ideal balance throughout.

Altogether, “Schmigadoon!” emerges as a joyous valentine to the classic American musical — affectionate, clever, and irresistibly entertaining.

(Nederlander Theatre 208 West 41st Street; schmigadoonbroadway.com)

Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman: The cast of “Schmigadoon”

Fallen Angels (Roundabout Theatre Company)

By Harry Forbes

Though not quite in the exalted league of Noël Coward classics like “Private Lives” and “Design for Living,” his 1925 comedy “Fallen Angels” still sparkles with the playwright’s signature wit. Roundabout Theatre Company has mounted a sumptuous revival, directed with style by Scott Ellis.

Kelli O'Hara and Rose Byrne — fresh off Byrne’s Oscar-nominated turn in “If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You” — star as Julia and Jane, the sophisticated friends originally played by Tallulah Bankhead and Edna Best.

Years earlier, both women had affairs with the same French Lothario, Maurice — and, daringly for its era, the play leaves little doubt that the relationships were far from platonic. When Maurice announces by post that he is coming to London to see them, the now-settled wives are thrown into romantic turmoil. As the anticipated reunion fails to materialize, Julia and Jane drink themselves into a deliciously comic stupor, unleashing volleys of brittle, bitchy repartee.

Meanwhile, their husbands — Fred (Aasif Mandvi) and Willy (Christopher Fitzgerald) — remain blissfully oblivious, off golfing while emotional chaos reigns at home. Hovering nearby is Julia’s overly precociouis maid Saunders, played with excellent comic timing by Tracee Chimo.

The cast is uniformly strong. O’Hara, so often cast as poised and proper heroines (with “Days of Wine and Roses” a notable exception), gets a welcome opportunity to flaunt her comic gifts. Byrne, meanwhile, is especially hilarious in the latter half of the brisk, intermissionless 90-minute adaptation. (The original play ran three acts.) Fitzgerald delivers his usual amusing work, while Mark Consuelos makes an appealing late entrance as the elusive French charmer.

David Rockwell’s lavish drawing-room set for Julia and Fred’s London home is plushly opulent, beautifully illuminated by Kenneth Posner. Jeff Mahshie contributes stylish period costumes that add greatly to the production’s visual appeal. John Gromada’s sound design is generally unobtrusive, though occasional audibility issues suggest that a touch more sound enhancement might not have gone amiss.

In the end, this revival of “Fallen Angels” may amount to decidedly lightweight entertainment, but enjoyably so all the same.

(Todd Haimes Theatre, 227 W 42nd St.; roundabouttheatre.org; through June 7)

Photo by Joan Marcus: (l.-r.) Kelli O’Hara, Mark Consuelos, and Rose Byrne

Dog Day Afternoon (August Wilson Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

This engrossing stage adaptation of the classic 1975 film places Jon Bernthal (The Bear) in the Al Pacino role of Sonny, a desperate, ill-fated bank robber attempting to hold up a Brooklyn Chase Manhattan Bank. At his side is his volatile accomplice Sal, played by Bernthal’s Bear co-star Ebon Moss-Bachrach, while a third partner, the jittery Ray Ray (Christopher Sears), loses his nerve and bolts almost immediately.

Pulitzer Prize winner Stephen Adly Guirgis, adapting both the film and P. F. Kluge and Thomas Moore’s Life magazine article “The Boys in the Bank” (itself based on true events), has crafted a script that proves highly effective on stage. It injects more humor than the film without sacrificing tension, and under Rupert Goold’s taut direction, the piece sustains a gripping momentum throughout.

There have been earlier stage versions—I recall a modest 2008 Off-Broadway staging by the Barefoot Theatre Company—but this production operates on an entirely different level.

Bernthal, making his Broadway debut, is onstage nearly the entire time and delivers a commanding, deeply felt performance. Moss-Bachrach, also new to Broadway, matches him with a vividly drawn Sal. The supporting cast is uniformly strong: Michael Kostroff as the beleaguered bank manager Butterman; Danny Johnson as security guard Mr. Eddy; and the bank tellers, including Elizabeth Canavan (doubling effectively as Sonny’s wife Gloria), Paola Lázaro, Wilemina Olivia-Garcia, and Andrea Syglowski; and especially Jessica Hecht, who gives a gem of a performance as the tightly wound, domineering Colleen.

Outside the bank, John Ortiz’s NYPD detective Fucco and Spencer Garrett’s FBI hardliner Sheldon -- both actors convincing -- spar over how to handle the crisis—Fucco favoring empathy, Sheldon pushing for force—adding another layer of tension to the standoff.

A standout among the supporting players is Esteban Andres Cruz as Leon, Sonny’s partner, whose desire for gender-affirming surgery provides the robbery’s emotional impetus. Their second-act phone conversation—tender, awkward, and marked by painful miscommunication—is one of the production’s most affecting moments.

David Korins’ revolving set, evocatively lit by Isabella Byrd, shifts between the bank interior and the surrounding streets, creating a vivid sense of place. Occasional action spills into the aisles, and while there’s no formal audience participation, the crowd is invited to join Sonny’s iconic cry of “Attica,” the production’s most direct nod to the film’s charged public spectacle.

Set in 1972, the production benefits from Brenda Abbandandolo’s spot-on period costumes and Guirgis’s commitment to era-authentic language, free of contemporary overlay. Goold sustains that period texture throughout. Cody Spencer’s richly detailed sound design, along with well-chosen music from David Bowie and Marvin Gaye, further enhances the atmosphere.

Some may argue that the production cannot match the film, but that misses the point. Working in a different medium, Guirgis has created a piece with its own integrity and theatrical force. Judging by the enthusiastic response at the performance I attended, audiences are more than willing to embrace it on its own terms.

(August Wilson Theatre, 245 W. 52nd Street; dogdayafternoon.com) 

Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman: (l.-r.) Jon Bernthal, Danny Johnson, Jessica Hecht

Every Brilliant Thing (Hudson Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

Daniel Radcliffe returns to Broadway in Every Brilliant Thing, his first stage appearance since his Tony-winning turn in Stephen Sondheim’s Merrily We Roll Along. As he has in each of his New York outings, Radcliffe proves himself a formidable stage presence.

Here, however, his skills are tested to the limit: Every Brilliant Thing is a one-man show. Even with generous audience participation, it is Radcliffe who must guide—and control—every moment.

Written by Duncan Macmillan with Jonny Donahoe and directed here by Jeremy Herrin and Macmillan, the play first premiered to great success a decade ago at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe before transferring to New York, where Donahoe also starred. Since then it has been performed in some 80 countries and filmed for HBO with Donahoe. The current production stems from a recent West End run that featured stars including Minnie Driver and Lenny Henry.

The premise is simple but affecting. Radcliffe plays an unnamed narrator reflecting on how his mother’s suicide attempt when he was a child shaped the course of his life. When she returns home from the hospital, he begins compiling a list of everything—small or large, trivial or profound—that makes life worth living. Over the years, as he grows up, falls in love, and marries, the list grows as well, helping him cope not only with his mother’s recurring crises but with his own bouts of melancholy, until he finally arrives at a kind of reckoning.

Before the performance begins, Radcliffe and several stage managers circulate through the theater, distributing numbered cards—each bearing an item from the list, ranging from “ice cream” to “a really good sneeze.” Audience members call these out when Radcliffe cues the numbers. A handful of volunteers seated onstage take on slightly larger roles, portraying figures such as the narrator’s father, his teacher, and eventually his spouse.

While the device creates an atmosphere of inclusivity that many in the audience clearly relish, it can also grow a bit wearisome, particularly when some participants deliver their lines flatly or inaudibly. Still, at a brisk 70 minutes, the show hardly overstays its welcome.

Radcliffe remains the evening’s undeniable engine, shifting nimbly from breezy good humor to moments of genuine emotional reflection. Yet the production’s buoyant, participatory tone sometimes sits uneasily alongside its darker themes of suicide and depression.

Along the way, the script offers some pointed observations about how we speak—or fail to speak—about suicide. In keeping with that focus, the production has partnered with the mental-health nonprofit Project Healthy Minds, which provides resources for those who may need them.

Vicki Mortimer designed both the thrust stage (effectively lit by Jack Knowles) and Radcliffe’s increasingly sweat-soaked costume, while Tom Gibbons supplies the sound design.

For all its structural quirks, Every Brilliant Thing ultimately rests on Radcliffe’s shoulders—and he proves more than capable of carrying it.

(The Hudson Theatre, 141 W 44th Street; everybrilliantthing.com; through May 24)

Photo by Matthew Murphy: Daniel Radcliffe.

Chess (Imperial Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

The ever-popular Benny Andersson–Tim Rice–Björn Ulvaeus score remains the chief allure of Chess, the sleek pop-rock musical that has persisted for decades despite its famously vexed book. Since the show’s 1986 London premiere, nearly every major revival has felt compelled to overhaul its narrative, and Danny Strong’s new version is only the latest attempt to resolve its structural problems. But when a production can boast at least three dynamic actor-singers, half the battle is won. In that respect, this revival succeeds handsomely: Aaron Tveit, Lea Michele and Nicholas Christopher deliver the score with clarity, intensity and star-level assurance.

The Cold War plot still centers on the volatile American champion Freddie Trumper (Tveit) and his formidable Soviet rival, Anatoly Sergievsky (Christopher). Their high-stakes chess match becomes further charged by Florence (Michele), Freddie’s lover, strategist and “second,” who rekindles a past romance with Anatoly. As in previous versions, Florence’s Hungarian background—specifically the disappearance of her father after the 1956 uprising—figures into an already overstuffed narrative that rarely gains the emotional traction it seeks.

By the second act, Freddie has abandoned competing for a career in television commentary, and Anatoly’s wife, Svetlana—summoned by the K.G.B.—enters the fray to pressure him homeward. These complications feel familiar, yet the production finds its surest footing whenever the music takes over.

All three leads shine in their signature numbers: Tveit tears through “Pity the Child” with raw ferocity; Michele delivers a taut, pointed “Nobody’s Side”; and Christopher brings stirring command to “Anthem.” Michele and the excellent Hannah Cruz (as Svetlana) give “I Know Him So Well” the requisite warmth. Svetlana’s role seems to have been expanded with the addition of a new song, “He Is a Man, He Is a Child.”

Musically, the show feels somewhat streamlined. Several of the more lyrical, operetta-like passages appear to have been trimmed in favor of the propulsive rock material, resulting in a somewhat less varied palette. John Shivers’s sound design, firmly in the modern Broadway mold, tends toward overamplification.

Strong work also comes from Bradley Dean and Sean Allan Krill as Molokov (K.G.B.) and Walter de Courcey (C.I.A.), respectively. And Bryce Pinkham, an ever-reliable presence, plays the Arbiter and, in Strong’s revision, doubles as narrator. This device proves less effective: the intermittent contemporary jokes about President Biden, RFK Jr., and Donald Trump may earn quick laughs but undermine the show’s original dramatic context. Beyond these additions, Strong’s rewrite does not meaningfully advance the book’s long-standing problems.

Longtime admirers will inevitably recall earlier incarnations. The 1988 Broadway version, with a freshly crafted book by Richard Nelson, offered a more traditional storytelling frame. And the original London cast—Elaine Paige, Murray Head, and especially Tommy Körberg, whose “Anthem” remains the performance to beat—still casts a long shadow. The New York company of that era, featuring Philip Casnoff, the late David Carroll and Judy Kuhn, introduced the lovely Florence ballad “Someone Else’s Story,” sung here by Michele in a new position near the show’s conclusion. Fans will note several other re-ordered numbers as well. And for some, the memory of the 2003 New York concert, with Josh Groban, Adam Pascal, Raúl Esparza and Julia Murney, remains vivid.

Michael Mayer, building on his 2018 Kennedy Center staging, directs with his customary savvy. With the orchestra visible on David Rockwell’s minimalistic set—cleanly lit by Kevin Adams—the production occasionally evokes a City Center Encores! presentation. Lorin Latarro’s choreography keeps the ensemble in fluid motion, particularly in a sleek “One Night in Bangkok.”

Tom Broecker’s costumes are neatly tailored for the principals, with the ensemble largely clad in gray except for the flashier second-act opener.

For all its enduring flaws, Chess continues to exert a peculiar fascination. And this revival, buoyed by three commanding performances and that indelible score, makes a strong case for why theaters keep returning to it: when the music is delivered with this level of artistry, the game remains hard to resist.

(Imperial Theatre, 249 West 45th Street; chessbroadway.com; through May 3)

Photos by Matthew Murphy: 

Top:  (l.-r.) Aaron Tveit, Lea Michele

Below: (l.-r.) Lea Michele, Nicholas Christopher

Art (The Music Box)

By Harry Forbes

Yasmina Reza’s 1994 crowd-pleasing comedy about art and friendship has gotten a first-rate revival 29 years after Christopher Hampton’s translation from the original French premiered in London in 1996. 

I saw that West End production with its gold chip cast of Albert Finney, Tom Courteney, and Ken Stott, replaced by a panoply of other top name actors who fitted the play to their respective personalities. The 1998 Tony-winning Broadway production with Alan Alda, Victor Garber, and Alfred Molina also led to a succession of excellent replacements.

And now this revival -- skillfully directed by Scott Ellis - joins its distinguished predecessors. The plot revolves around three longtime friends whose relationship starts to unravel when Serge (Neil Patrick Harris) pays an enormous price for an abstract painting -- for all intents and purposes, a white canvas -- to the contemptuous amazement of Marc (Bobby Cannavale) who can’t resist derisive laughter when he’s first shown the canvas and learns the astronomical pricetag. When Marc attempts to enlist their mutual friend Yvan (James Corden) to his point of view, the latter tries in vain to remain steadfastly neutral. 

Eventually, bitter resentments surface and midway through, when Yvan is late for a dinner date with the others, the complacent Yvan delivers a tour-de-force hysterical monologue explaining his tardiness, and earning Corden well-deserved applause. 

Nothing else reaches that emotional peak, and Corden’s performance is really spectacularly good here, but Harris and Cannavale provide excellent and highly accomplished contrast, Harris petulantly offended by Marc’s response, and Cannavale, neatly balancing his character’s vulnerability and outward bluster. 

Several critics seem to be finding “Art” a lightweight and dated trifle, but I think Reza crafted a superb 100-minute vehicle that has held up brilliantly. Finney, Courtney and Stott brought a different vibe to the text, but the balance of humor and pathos is equally potent here, and Reza’s work remains satisfying as ever. 

The current design team provides a sleek, contemporary look, including David Rockwell set design (the three men’s apartments) brightly lit by Jen Schriever, while Linda Cho’s apt costumes, Mikaal Sulaiman’s sound design and Kid Harpoon’s music are likewise first-rate.

(The Music Box, 239 W 45th St; Telecharge or 212-239-6200; through December 21)

Photo by Matthew Murphy: (l..r.) James Corden, Neil Patrick Harris and Bobby Cannavale

Ragtime (Lincoln Center Theater)

By Harry Forbe

No one who saw the brief semi-staged concert presentation of composer Steven Flaherty and lyricist Lynn Ahrens 1998 masterwork at City Center last year should be surprised that the transfer to Lincoln Center is anything less than a splendid theatrical experience. Last year’s production was not part of the Encores musical series, but rather the venue’s annual fall Gala presentation. 

It was, nonetheless, directed by Encores’ outgoing artistic director Lear DeBessonet who now assumes that title with Lincoln Center Theater. Her superb staging of “Ragtime” gets her off to a highly auspicious start. The work was adapted most skillfully by the late Terrence McNally from E.L. Doctorow’s acclaimed 1975 novel.

David Korins’ spare but effective scenic design, lighted by Adam Honoré  and Donald Holder, adapts beautifully to the expansive Beaumont stage, and DeBessonet’s facility for dealing with large groupings of people, which she demonstrated so adeptly in her earlier work at the Public’s Delacorte and Encores, is on full display here.

McNally’s book streamlines the novel, trimming some of the plot turns, without losing its overall power. The life of a fictional upper crust New Rochelle family -- identified merely as Mother (Caissie Levy), Father (Colin Donnell), Mother’s Younger Brother (Ben Levi Ross), and their son (Nick Barrington) -- is upended while Father is away on an arctic expedition, and Mother gives shelter to an unwed black woman Sarah (Nichelle Lewis) and her new newborn baby. 

The child’s father, ragtime pianist Coalhouse Walker, Jr. (Joshua Henry) persistently comes to their home to win back the recalcitrant Sarah’s affections. Meanwhile, Tateh (Brandon Uranowitz), an impoverished Jewish immigrant, and his young daughter (Tabitha Lawing) face numerous vicissitudes as they struggle to forge a life in their adopted country.  

All of this plays out against the historical events and true-life characters of the turn-of-the-last-century age: Emma Goldman (Shaina Taub), Booker T. Washington (John Clay III), Evelyn Nesbitt (Anna Grace Barlow), Harry Houdini (Rodd Cyrus), and other then bold-faced names.

The City Center principals are back and once again, we can admire Joshua Henry’s powerful Coalhouse, Caissie Levy’s warmly sympathetic Mother; Brandon Uranowitz’s immensely likable Tateh. But the cast is uniformly fine, and holds up well to golden memories of the pearly original lineup of Brian Stokes Mitchell, Audra MacDonald, Marin Mazzie, and the rest. (The 2009 Broadway revival cast, Quentin Earl Darrington and Christiane Noll among them, deserves an affectionate nod as well.)

The show’s famous numbers get showstopping renditions here: Colehouse and Sarah’s “Wheels of a Dream” and “New Music”; Mother’s “Back to Before”; Coalhouse’s “Make Them Hear You” all land powerfully. 

As before, the show tugs at the proverbial heartstrings and registers as immensely moving and, in its themes, as relevant as ever. 

Production credits are all first-rate including Ellenore Scott’s choreography, Linda Cho’s costumes, Kai Harada’s sound, 59 Studio’s projections, Tom Watson’s hair and wig design. 

Music Director James Moore leads the 28-piece orchestra impeccably. And William David Brohn’s Tony Award-winning orchestrations sound as splendid as ever. 

(The Vivian Beaumont, 150 W 65th Street; lct.org; through January 4)

Photos by Matthew Murphy

Top: Nichelle Lewis, Joshua Henry

Below: Caissie Levy, Brandon Uranowitz

Floyd Collins (Lincoln Center Theater)

By Harry Forbes

This is an intensely moving revival of composer/lyricist Adam Guettel’s 1996 musical about the highly publicized incident of a young explorer trapped in a Kentucky cave when his foot gets stuck under falling rocks, and the futile two week efforts to extricate him. Above ground, hucksters, gawkers, and even family join the media circus in the increasingly carnival-like atmosphere. 

The episode had the nation transfixed, and also inspired Billy Wilder’s 1951 film “Ace in the Hole.”

Of course, Guettel’s musicals, including “Light in the Piazza” (whose premiere was another triumph for Lincoln Center Theater) and “Days of Wine and Roses” are less traditional Broadway sounding, and more in the vein of modern opera. But there’s genuine melody in Guettel’s bluegrass-infused score, and under the baton of original conductor Ted Sperling, the sounds on stage and in the pit are ravishingly beautiful.

Jeremy Jordan as the hapless titular character is quite magnificent, surpassing even his finest past work. He's completely believable in the role, singing (and yodeling) superbly. (Hats off to Bruce Coughlin’s exquisite orchestrations, too.)

But the whole production is impeccably cast, with wonderful work by Jason Gotay as Floyd’s loving brother, who falls prey to the lure of showbiz, singer Lizzy McAlpine in her stage debut as his mentally fragile sister, Taylor Trensch as the rookie Louisville reporter assigned to cover the story and who bonds with Floyd most touchingly, Marc Kudisch and Jessica Molaskey as his conflicted father and tremulous stepmother, and Sean Allen Krill as engineer H.T. Carmichael who declares his company is the only way to Floyd’s rescue. 

There’s good work, too, from Dwayne Cooper, Jeremy Davis, and Charlie Franklin as the opportunistic reporters whose razzmatazz numbers sporadically offset the somber main story, and Wade McCollum, Cole Vaughan, and Clyde Voce as Floyd’s cronies. All are authentically outfitted in Anita Yavich’s period costumes. 

Tina Landau, book writer and co-lyricist, has beautifully staged the whole, with striking groupings of the family, fellow coal workers, and such above ground, and the cave scenes below. And though Floyd is trapped, there’s nothing static about the staging which is full of diverting visuals. The opening sequence with Floyd feeling his way through the dark is wondrously handled with lighting (Scott Zielinski) and (I presume) platforms on various levels. (The design collective, dots, created the eye-filling settings.)

Apparently, the original production showed Floyd more visually stuck in the cave whereas this one is done impressionistically. But the staging and lighting, in tandem with Dan Moses Schreier’s atmospheric sound design, makes it still highly atmospheric, claustrophobic, and nail-bitingly suspenseful.

(Lincoln Center Theater at the Vivian Beaumont, 150 West 65th Street; floydcollinsbroadway.com)

Photo by Joan Marcus: Jeremy Jordan