Cyrano de Bergerac (VHRP Live!)

By Harry Forbes

Director Alyce Mott resurrected her streamlined version of Victor Herbert’s 1899 operetta based on Edmund Rostand’s classic with the same cast she employed in the first of two performances she mounted in 2013.

With a cast of only five, and only piano accompaniment, the work still registered beautifully, as the cast was that much improved with the experience of the earlier outing. The success of the short evening was due as much to the power of Rostand (and the savvy way Mott adapted his play), as to Herbert’s beautiful melodies, most especially tongue-tied Christian’s wooing of Roxanne, as Cyrano feeds him the words (“Let the Sun of Thine Eyes”), and the later bittersweet trio “Since I Am Not for Thee.”

The original libretto (which apparently wrapped things up with a happy ending) is lost, allowing Mott to fashion a creative mashup of the play and the operetta.

As before, the songs were beautifully and strongly vocalized by Stephen Faulk as the handsome, verbally challenged cadet, Olga Xanthopolou as the lovely Roxanne, and Nathan Brian as titular lovelorn soldier/poet. Even without a prosthetic nose, Brian gave a persuasive dramatic performance, right up to the moving death scene with Roxanne.

John Greenleaf made a stylish de Guiche, and the versatile David Seatter moved deftly from narrator to the roles of Mountfleury, La Bret, and a befuddled monk.

The late Dino Anagnost’s Little Orchestra Society concert version (in which Mott also had a creative hand) demonstrated the considerable additional beauties of the score when heard with a full chorus (and, of course, the substantial vigorous choral sections of the score were perforce lost in the VHRP reading) and large orchestra. But music director Michael Thomas’ sensitive piano accompaniment went remarkably far in closing that gap.

(Victor Herbert Renaissance Project Live, Christ & St. Stephen’s Church, 120 W. 69th St.; www.vhrplive.org; February 26 only)

Photos: Steven Pisano

Hamilton (The Public Theater)

By Harry Forbes

Though all the period trappings you’d expect are here in this bio-musical about our first Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton – thanks to David Korins’ evocative scenic design and Paul Tazewell’s period perfect duds – you’re not likely to mistake Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “In the Heights” follow-up for “1776.” The cast playing our Founding Fathers is mostly non-white, and the musical vocabulary he employs is strictly that of today. This is history viewed through a pointedly and, for the most part cleverly, contemporary prism.

And yet, the amount of historical detail packed into this fast-paced, propulsive production is quite extraordinary. Inspired by Ron Chernow’s epic Hamilton biography – Chernow also served as consultant – this is a sweeping narrative, albeit told in terms artfully simplistic and sometimes repetitive.

The musical’s book charts the ambitious Hamilton’s evolution from soldier to statesman as right hand man of George Washington, to economic wiz, founder of the Federalist Party, etc. as well as his complicated love life (platonic relationship with his wife’s sister and later, an adulterous affair that would embroil him in scandal), and of course, the duel with Aaron Burr, then the Vice President, that would end his life.

Quadruple threat Miranda (book, music, lyrics and star) saw the rise and fall of Hamilton -- born out of wedlock in the West Indies, poor, orphaned – and the shaping of our scrappy young nation as a hip-hop story at its core, so rap music predominates though the nearly three-hour through-composed work also incorporates pop, jazz, salsa, R&B, and traditional Broadway sounds.

Directed by Miranda’s “In the Heights” collaborator Thomas Kail, and choreographed almost non-stop by Andy Blankenbuehler, this is an undeniably vibrant and original piece of theater.

It has something of the vibe of The Public’s rock-scored “Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson” – in its telling of historical events in an up-to-date lingo – but this one follows a more traditional dramatic arc. Alex Lacamoire’s orchestrations, like Miranda’s score, contain little 18th century pastiche but generally the technique works.

The cast is extraordinarily talented including Christopher Jackson as George Washington; Phillipa Soo as Hamilton’s devoted wife Eliza; Renée Elise Goldsberry as her sister Angelica; Leslie Odum, Jr. as Hamilton’s friend and rival Burr (interestingly, like Hamilton, an orphan); Daveed Diggs as Lafayette and later Jefferson; Anthony Ramos as Hamilton’s abolitionist friend John Laurens and later Hamilton’s tragic son Philip; Okieriete Onaodowan as James Madison; and most amusingly, Bryan D’Arcy James as a disgruntled King George.

For all the extraordinary stagecraft and skill, I’d have preferred an overall less jokey approach (the lyrics are alternately sophomoric and exceedingly clever), and yet certainly as events play out in the second act with Hamilton building to a fall with sexual scandal and personal tragedy, the work takes on the requisite gravitas and becomes extraordinarily moving.

At nearly three hours, the work could use some trimming. Although rife with incident, the show still feels long, even with the help of Blankenbuehler’s ceaselessly inventive movement.

Though a Broadway transfer seems inevitable, and the show has been almost unanimously acclaimed as a game-changer, it’s difficult to predict how the average Broadway theatergoer will embrace the show for all its groundbreaking innovation.

(The Public Theater, 425 Lafayette Street; 212-967-7555 or www.publictheater.org)

Lin-Manuel Miranda and the company of Hamilton, with book, music, and lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda, inspired by the book “Alexander Hamilton” by Ron Chernow, with choreography by Andy Blankenbuehler, and directed by Thomas Kail, running at The Public Theater. Photo credit: Joan Marcus.

A Delicate Balance (Golden Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

Edward Albee’s second most heralded play – after “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” – has returned to Broadway after a nearly 20-year absence. The 1996 Gerald Gutierrez revival was a memorable one, to be sure, with a sterling cast including George Grizzard, Rosemary Harris, and Elaine Stritch in top form.

Pam MacKinnon’s production is rather more austere in tone and less, well, enjoyable than the other. But there’s no denying the quality of the performances by yet another all-star cast and the fact that MacKinnon skillfully clarifies the play’s themes of loneliness and fear.

John Lithgow and Glenn Close (each in superlative form) are long-married couple Tobias and Agnes, and are finely matched by Bob Balaban and Clare Higgins as their unaccountably frightened neighbors Harry and Edna who announce with cheeky presumption that they are moving in with their friends permanently because of some unspoken terror.

Martha Plimpton is their much-divorced daughter Julia (now leaving husband number four) who bitterly resents the couple appropriating her room. Lindsey Duncan is Agnes’ hopelessly alcoholic sister Claire who, nonetheless, has the most empathy for the other characters’ foibles, and the uncanny ability to sort out the peculiar dynamics of the situation.

Brits Duncan and Higgins assume their American accents convincingly, the former perhaps having the edge in authority. I found myself alternately admiring and disliking Duncan’s characterization, but, on the whole, she registers on the plus side.

Plimpton provides some lively moments as Albee has given Julia some particularly dramatic moments.

Santo Loquasto has designed an impressively upper crust living room set for the affluent suburban couple, appropriately outfitted by Ann Roth, and lighted cannily by Brian MacDevitt as when, in the final act, Tobias’ late night/early morning soul searching eases into redemptive morning.

(Golden Theater, 252 W. 45th St.; Telecharge.com or 212-239-6200)

Photo: Courtesy of Brigitte Lacombe/Philip Rinaldi Publicity

Honeymoon in Vegas (Nederlander Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

Jason Robert Brown demonstrates his extraordinary versatility with a brassy Broadway score miles removed from the lush and romantic semi-operatic outpourings of last season’s “The Bridges of Madison County.”

Andrew Bregman’s adaptation of the 1992 movie which starred Nicolas Cage, Sarah Jessica Parker, and James Caan, is more in the vein the musical comedies – emphasis on comedy – of the 1950s and early 1960s, one which, like so many of those, makes for a diverting evening on the town, perfect for the tired businessman, as they used to say.

Rob McClure, also showing versatility after his last Broadway stint in “Chaplin,” is Jack, the marriage-phobic boyfriend of Betsy (Brynn O’Malley). He has almost determined to shake off the ghost of his late, domineering mother (Nancy Opel) who had made him promise he’d never marry.

The couple heads for Las Vegas, but Jack allows himself to be suckered into a poker game with gangster Tommy Korman (Tony Danza) who spies Betsy, and thinks she’s the image of his late lady-love. Over a crooked game of cards, Jack loses $58,000 which, of course, he doesn’t have. He either faces physical injury or else must allow Betsy to go to Hawaii with Tommy for a platonic weekend. Complications ensue.

Though the show does sometimes seem as tacky (intentionally so) as the Vegas milieu in which it is partly set –Hawaii and New York are the other settings – the cast is good, and Brown’s score is mostly lots of fun.

Danza, a likeable mobster, reveals a pleasantly gravelly voice, and even gets to show off his tap dancing prowess. O’Malley is vocally strong, and proves a winning object of both men’s affections.

The show received good reviews at the Paper Mill Playhouse in 2013, and though I didn’t see it there, would seem to be little built-up for Broadway in terms of its modest but pleasant production values: Anna Louizos (scenery), Brian C. Hemesath (costumes), and Howell Binkley (lighting).

Director Gary Griffin knows how to stage this sort of funny business, and Denis Jones has provided the neat choreography.

The orchestrations of Don Sebesky, Larry Blank, Jason Robert Brown, Charlie Rosen capture the swinging ambience expertly.

(Nederlander Theatre, 208 West 41stStreet; Ticketmaster.com, by calling 877-250-2929)

Constellations (Manhattan Theatre Club)

By Harry Forbes

Roland’s a beekeeper. Marianne’s a quantum cosmologist at Cambridge. They meet cute at a barbeque, fall in love, break up, and come together again. And then must face a tragic hurdle. Or maybe they don’t. Or perhaps not exactly.

For, as quickly becomes apparent, playwright Nick Payne is really showing us the endless possibilities of a Multiverse, as we learn when Marianne, in an early scene, explains to the clueless Roland the difference between Relativity (i.e. “the sun, the moon, the stars”) and quantum mechanics (i.e. molecules, quarks, atoms – that sort of thing”).

She says that “at any given moment, several outcomes can co-exist simultaneously…every decision you’re ever and never made exists in an unimaginably vast ensemble of parallel universes.”

And that, more or less, is the extent of the physics, so unlike a Stoppard play where the scientific theory would be talked out endlessly in the densest of prose. But, over the course of the play’s 65 or so intermission-less minutes, we see this theory played out in 70 individual scenes (each punctuated by a blackout) where conversations (or parts of conversations) play out in different ways subtle and profound. And the effect is just as intellectually stimulating.

Stars Jake Gyllenhaal (so good in Payne’s “If There Is I Haven’t Found It Yet” in 2012 at the Roundabout), is completely convincing as an average British bloke, and Ruth Wilson is a delight in her mercurial role. They play together beautifully, and handle the tricky dialogue – scenes play out almost but not quite like the ones which preceded them – with admirable dexterity. Their timing is quite extraordinary.

The love story at the core of the play’s premise, which can also be said to be the way we experience time, is very moving indeed, so the play touches the heart as much as the mind. And the serious elements are leavened with just enough humor.

Tom Scutt’s wondrous scenic design – white balloons and light globes – suggesting the Multiverse (or perhaps a cluster of atoms) pleases the eye, and is cunningly conceived to comment on the action, as the globes change colors at key plot point, and the balloons sadly fall to the ground during some bittersweet moments.

The play’s original director at the Royal Court in 2012 – Michael Longhurst – repeats that assignment here, and paces the scenes masterfully.

Lee Curran’s lighting – working brilliantly in tandem with Scutt’s set – and David McSeveney’s impeccable sound are further pluses.

MTC’s Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, 261 West 47th Street, Telecharge.com or 212-239-6200)

Not The Messiah (He’s a Very Naughty Boy) (Carnegie Hall)

By Harry Forbes

I first encountered this wacky – and musically eclectic – satirical oratorio, based on the Monty Python film, “The Life of Brian,” on a BBC radio broadcast in 2009. This performance, relayed from London’s Royal Albert Hall, was later released on DVD.

Much as I enjoyed it over the internet, Monday night’s performance at Carnegie Hall, with The Collegiate Chorale and the Orchestra of St. Luke’s (which accompanied its 2007 American premiere) made an even more persuasive case for the piece. It is not just a spoof of “The Messiah” but also a Broadway-style musical in the vein of that other Python-inspired tuner, “Spamalot.”

The story concerns an ordinary young man named Brian Cohen who, at the time of the familiar events in the New Testament, is mistaken for the Messiah by a populace eager to hail him as its savior. Reluctant though he is to accept that role, he finds himself inexorably pulled into it.

Not only did the OSL and the Chorale perform superbly, under the baton of Ted Sperling (who also directed), but a first rate collection of mostly Broadway soloists was assembled for the occasion.

These included Victoria Clark, in resplendent voice as Brian’s mother; Lauren Worsham – recently Magnolia in Sperling’s musically gorgeous “Show Boat” with the New York Philharmonic – as his girlfriend Judith; strong-voiced Marc Kudisch in myriad roles; and sweet-voiced clarion tenor William Ferguson reprising his Albert Hall performance as a wonderfully apt Brian. Idle, who self-deprecatingly describes himself as “baritone-ish” in the program, was funny in his spoken bits, and put across his songs with the engaging panache of a British music hall singer of the first rank, as when he led to cast in “Always Look at the Bright Side of Life.”

The principals all sang with beautiful tone, and just the right sense of parody when required. And, oh yes, there were four bagpipers from the New York Metro Pipe Band who, together with some singing sheep, added a further zany touch to the proceedings.

Idle’s amusing book and lyrics were set to John Du Prez’s music which, at times, was quite beautiful. “When They Grow Up” and “The Final Song” were but two examples of affecting songs that worked outside the satirical framework.

With pastiche songs of every sort – from gospel, Broadway, doo-wop, mariachi, Gilbert & Sullivan, and of course, Handel (“We Love Sheep”) – the 90 minute show moves along at a fast pace with little dialogue, and mostly linking recitative. The Collegiate Chorale and the OSL sang and played with as much fine musicianship as if the piece really were Handel.

There were a few curious walkouts during the first act, but it was difficult to say whether those might have been offended from a sacrilegious perspective (though, unlike its film source, the satire here is more musically and politically targeted), or simply found the Python-esque humor sophomoric. But everyone else seemed to have a rollicking good time, and left the hall in bracingly high spirits.

(Carnegie Hall, 57th St. & 7th Avenue, Dec. 15-16 only; www.collegiatechorale.org)

Photo by Erin Baiano

The Elephant Man (Booth Theater)

By Harry Forbes

Hollywood heartthrob Bradley Cooper proves his stage mettle with a superb performance as the famously deformed Victorian Joseph Merrick, the so-called “Elephant Man,” whose sad story was also the basis for David Lynch’s acclaimed 1980 movie.

In the revival of Bernard Pomerance’s 1977 play, Cooper is backed by a strong supporting cast, including Alessandro Nivola as Frederick Treves, the compassionate surgeon who gives Merrick shelter after a lifetime of abuse in a sideshow, and ultimately protection in the London Hospital, and Patricia Clarkson in Carole Shelley’s original role of the actress Mrs. Kendal to whom Treves turns in order to give Merrick the experience of normal companionship.

I did feel that Clarkson, always so marvelous, is somewhat disappointing here. She projects a rather generalized empathy, but for the grand actress she’s supposed to be, rather lacks both the requisite theatricality, and even more surprisingly, the English accent. What’s there is rather half-hearted.

Still, Scott Ellis’ production, which started out in Williamstown in 2012, is stylishly staged, and nearly always engrossing, except perhaps in some of Treves’ long-winded ruminations.

Anthony Heald is impressive in the dual role of Merrick’s manipulative freakshow manager Ross, and later as Bishop How, one of the many pillars of society who come to pay homage to Merrick when he’s all cleaned up in the hospital, each imbuing Merrick with the characteristics he chooses to see, and each believing he’s particularly attuned to his innermost thoughts, all the while showering him with lavish – if not always appropriate -- gifts.

Timothy R. Mackabee’s spare scenic design (including projections of the real Merrick during a lecture by Treves) and Clint Ramos’ costumes neatly evoke the era, cannily lit by Philip S. Rosenberg.

The rest of the supporting cast, including Henry Stram as the head of the hospital and Kathryn Meisle in various roles, is solid.

But it is Cooper’s performance that makes this revival a must-see. Like his predecessors in the role, he eschews makeup or prosthetics but contorts his face and body to the extent that good looking as Cooper plainly is, we can believe he’s the grotesque figure we’ve just seen in the historic photographs. And beyond his physical prowess at transforming himself so impressively, he gives a moving and heartbreaking performance.

(Booth Theatre, 222 West 45th Street; Telecharge.com or 212-239-6200; through Sunday, February 15.)