Zack (Mint Theater Company)

By Harry Forbes

The Mint has followed up last season’s superlative revival of Lancashire playwright Harold Brighouse’s “Garside’s Career” with a lesser Brighouse work, but in its way, still a charmer, his 1916 comedy “Zack.”  The play has been revived three times by the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester, the first time with an impressive cast including Patricia Routledge, Trevor Peacock, and Lindsay Duncan. 

The titular character, played here by Jordan Matthew Brown, is a sweet natured loafer treated with dismissive disdain by his widowed mother Mrs. Munning (solid Melissa Maxwell) and arrogant brother Paul (David T. Patterson nailing his character’s villainy) who runs the family’s faltering catering business. 

Mrs. Munning sets her sights on her well-heeled niece Virginia (aka Jenny) (Cassia Thompson) for Paul, and invites the young woman to stay with them as she convalesces after a recent illness. But it’s clear from the start that it’s the uncalculating Zack who charms her with his guileless ways.

Complications ensue when Paul coldly sacks worker Joe Quigley (superbly gruff Sean Runnette), when the latter suffers a broken arm. Before long, Joe bursts in, hellbent on revenge, one that will involve forcing Zack to marry Joe’s lovelorn daughter Martha (Grace Guichard). 

Brown makes an impossibly clueless (and frequently annoying) character tolerable, and Thompson is a constant delight in her highly sympathetic role. (The dynamic between Zack and Jenny will remind seasoned theater and filmgoers of the central characters of Brighouse’s most famous play, “Hobson’s Choice.”) 

There’s good work too from Caroline Festa as Sally, the pretend-maid hired by Mrs. Munning to impress the wealthy Jenny, and Guichard as Martha who engage in a second act verbal slugfest over Zach. David Lee Huỳnh and Douglas Rees round out the excellent cast as Joe’s cronies. 

If I have a gripe, it’s that British accents, particularly of the Northern variety, so essential in Brighouse’s works, are curiously eschewed here. As a result, the play loses much of its texture, and the dialogue sometimes has a flatness without the Lancashire lilt. The essentials of the play are all intact but could have been that much more characterful. If you’re curious, you can hear a more authentic sounding performance in this vintage BBC Radio version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7yPVKVzptA&t=237s

That said, Britt Berke directs a tight performance -- one hour and 45 minutes without intermission -- with attractive contributions from Brittany Vasta (sets), Kindall Almond (costumes), and Jane Shaw (sound & arrangements).

(Theatre Row, 410 West 42nd Street; bjany.org;  through March 28)

Photo by Todd Cerveris: (l.-r.) Cassia Thompson, Jordan Matthew Brown

Chinese Republicans (Roundabout Theatre Company)

By Harry Forbes

Playwright Alex Lin’s satirical comedy takes aim at misogyny and racism in the corporate workplace—familiar targets, perhaps, but Lin’s characters give the material a distinctive twist. While some of the plot’s turns feel scattershot, the play builds to a conclusion that lands with genuine force.

Set in 2019, the story centers on four Chinese women who meet monthly for an affinity-group lunch at a Chinese restaurant. All work at the investment bank Friedman Wallace, and their gatherings function as a kind of support group where they compare notes on navigating a predominantly white, male corporate culture. Yet solidarity only goes so far: each woman is also keenly aware of her own ambitions and the compromises that advancement may require.

Ellen, played with steely composure by Jennifer Ikeda, is a managing director who has achieved considerable success but still finds herself stalled short of partnership. Her protégé, Katie—portrayed by Anna Zavelson, memorable to many from Light in the Piazza at Encores—is a 24-year-old wealth strategies research associate whose trajectory takes an unexpected turn when she abruptly pivots toward activism. Jodi Long brings authority to Phyllis, now 65, once Ellen’s mentor and the first Asian woman to become a managing director in New York, currently working as a consultant. Completing the quartet is Iris, played by Jully Lee, a lower-level employee in the firm’s software division—an immigrant still awaiting a green card.

All four performers acquit themselves well, capturing both the camaraderie and the underlying tensions within the group. There is also amusing support from Ben Langhorst as a knowingly campy waiter who briefly punctuates the action.

Lin structures the play with occasional flashbacks and dream sequences, devices that sometimes add texture. Despite the title, the “Republican” aspect of the play is not emphasized as heavily as one might expect; the drama’s focus remains more squarely on questions of identity, advancement, and belonging within elite corporate spaces.

Visually, the production is solid if not showy. Wilson Chin’s revolving set proves practical, with the red-hued restaurant environment emerging as the most striking element. Hana Kim supplies projections that help mark shifts in time and perspective. Under Chay Yew’s brisk direction, the evening rarely drags, even when some of Lin’s plot developments stretch credibility.

If “Chinese Republicans” doesn’t always fully cohere, its sharp observations about ambition, loyalty, and the costs of corporate success keep it engaging—and its final moments suggest a more resonant play just beneath the surface.

(Roundabout Theatre Company’s Laura Pels Theatre in the Harold and Miriam Steinberg Center for Theatre, 111 West 46th Street; RoundaboutTheatre.org; through April 5)

Photo by Joan Marcus: (l.-r.) Jodi Long (Phyllis/Young Phyllis), Jennifer Ikeda (Ellen/Ailin), Anna Zavelson (Katie) and Jully Lee (Iris)

The Dinosaurs (Playwrights Horizons)

By Harry Forbes

Playwright Jacob Perkins’ compact 75-minute drama takes a familiar theatrical premise—a support group—and quietly reshapes it into something more observational than overtly dramatic. Structured as a series of meetings in a women’s sobriety circle and told in a non-linear sequence, the play unfolds less as a conventional narrative than as an accumulation of moments. In a program note, Perkins acknowledges his own history with sobriety, a disclosure that seems to inform the work’s careful, empathetic tone.

The setting is spare: a mostly bare stage, folding chairs arranged for the meeting, and a table set aside for the group’s modest refreshments. The play begins almost tentatively, as Rayne (Keilly McQuail), a prospective newcomer, hovers at the threshold while Jane (April Mathis) prepares the room. Their brief exchange about donuts and cupcakes establishes the play’s naturalistic rhythms—casual, lightly humorous, and attentive to the small talk that often fills the edges of more serious conversations.

Rayne soon retreats, apparently losing her nerve, leaving the regulars to gather: Joan (Elizabeth Marvel); Jolly (Kathleen Chalfont), an elderly sponsorship coordinator; Janet (Mallory Portnoy); and Joane (Maria Elena Ramirez). Nearly everyone bears a name beginning with “J”—a detail that initially feels like a wry joke but also subtly blurs distinctions among the characters, an effect the play itself occasionally acknowledges.

The meetings yield glimpses of the women’s inner lives rather than full confessions. Janet describes a dream in which a driver urges her to shed excess baggage—literal and emotional—including, improbably, a man tucked into her duffel bag. Joane discusses difficulties with her son, while Joan voices lingering doubts about her progress. Yet some stories remain conspicuously untold. Jane, who seems the picture of composure as she organizes the room, is revealed in solitary moments to be carrying burdens she has not shared with the group.

If the play withholds the kind of dramatic escalation audiences might expect from this premise—recent ensemble dramas like Liberation build more overtly toward confrontation—that restraint appears to be the point. Perkins is less interested in climaxes than in the subtle ways people circle their truths. His writing observes these women with notable compassion, and the performances are so unforced that the scenes often feel overheard rather than staged.

The production, directed with understated assurance by Les Waters, leans fully into that quiet realism. Humor surfaces naturally, often in passing remarks that momentarily lighten the room before the conversation settles again into something more reflective.

The design supports the play’s unadorned approach. The scenic elements evoke the plain functionality of a meeting space, while Yuki Link’s flat fluorescent lighting captures the slightly institutional atmosphere familiar to anyone who has spent time in such rooms. The work was commissioned and developed by Clubbed Thumb, whose mission to produce “funny, strange and provocative new plays by living American writers” finds a thoughtful, if deliberately modest, example here.

(Playwrights Horizons, 416 West 42 Street; tickets@phnyc.org or 212 279 4200; through March 8)

Photo by Julieta Cervantes: (l.-r.) April Matthis, Kathleen Chalfant, and Elizabeth Marvel 

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

Sweet Smell of Success (MasterVoices)

By Harry Forbes

MasterVoices, under the assured and ever-curious leadership of Artistic Director Ted Sperling, ventured beyond its customary repertoire of Gershwin, Weill, and Sondheim for this year’s annual Broadway musical presentation.

Instead, the company offered a lovingly reconsidered revival of Marvin Hamlisch’s Sweet Smell of Success, the ambitious 2002 musical that, despite its pedigree, lasted only 109 performances on Broadway. In MasterVoices’ hands, however, the piece revealed fresh vigor—and, more importantly, fresh reason for admiration.

Drawn from the 1957 film by Clifford Odets and Ernest Lehman (from Lehman’s own novella), the musical follows a ruthless gossip columnist, unmistakably modeled on Walter Winchell, and the hungry young press agent he draws into his orbit.

Hamlisch’s score, among the most musically substantial of his theatrical career, surged with new clarity under Sperling’s baton. Conducting and directing the semi-staged production, he led his 17-piece orchestra through William David Brohn’s original orchestrations with exuberant sweep and crisp detail. The result was a sound both muscular and propulsive—an engine powering the drama forward.

Though an early sound glitch required a brief restart, the evening soon settled into confident form. If Rose Hall’s wide stage occasionally challenged the storytelling’s focus, the performers met the moment with such presence that the narrative’s shifting tensions ultimately landed impresssively.

Raúl Esparza, stepping into the role originated by John Lithgow, gave a chillingly charismatic performance as J.J. Hunsecker, confidently poised and commanding vocal authority. The irony that Esparza once might have been cast as the younger, scrappier Sidney Falco was not lost; that part was expertly handled by Ali Louis Bourzgui, whose breakthrough turn in last season’s The Who’s Tommy has clearly marked him as a rising star. His rendition of “At the Fountain,” his character’s recurring theme, was delivered beautifully.

Lizzy McAlpine offered a luminous presence as Susan, J.J.’s sheltered sister, imbuing her songs with a quiet sensitivity. Noah J. Ricketts, as her musician-lover Dallas, lent the evening some of its warmest vocal moments, particularly in “I Cannot Hear the City” and his duet with McAlpine, “That’s How I Say Goodbye.” And Aline Mayagoitia, as Sidney’s neglected girlfriend Rita, all but stole the show with a sultry, roof-rattling “Rita’s Tune.”

Part of the production’s fascination lay in the participation of lyricist Craig Carnelia and book writer John Guare, who helped refine the material for this presentation. Their reinstatement of earlier passages—including replacing the original opening number, “The Column,” with the number “Rumor”—and their bold rethinking of the ending gave the work a renewed sense of dramatic coherence.

Andrew Palermo’s choreography invigorated several sequences, while the MasterVoices Chorus—arrayed on three imposing tiers behind the action—provided a sonic richness that deepened the production’s emotional and musical palette.

Even with the orchestra prominently placed onstage, Ryan Howell’s scenic design, accented by Isabella Byrd’s atmospheric lighting, effectively conjured the city’s murky underbelly. Tracy Christensen’s period-perfect costumes were another plus on the creative team.

MasterVoices’ Sweet Smell of Success may not erase the musical’s complicated Broadway past, but it offers a persuasive argument for its artistic worth. Under Sperling’s stewardship, the piece feels not merely revived, but rediscovered.

(Rose Theater, Jazz at Lincoln Center; 10 Columbus Circle;; mastervoices.org; Nov. 21 and 22 only)

Photos by Toby Tenenbaum:

Top: (l.-r.) Ali Louis Bourzgui, Raúl Esparza

Below: “Sweet Smell of Success” ensemble

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