NYC 2025 Round-Up; shows #900-908

Conversations with Mother (#900)

My NYC 2025 trip kicked off with a Monday night showing of Conversations with Mother, a wonderful play tracking a mother and son’s relationship over five decades. It’s a two-hander with the sturdiest of actors handling the material. Matt Doyle and Caroline Aaron’s chemistry was delivered with natural charm and insightful depth, where looks and reactions spoke as loudly as their lambasts and tear-filled dialogue. It’s a play that reaches the emotional turns with ease and finesse, often time causing reflection or some weepiness followed immediately by belly laughs and a nostalgic reminiscing.

Conversation with Mother hits the highs and lows of a rebellious son who, truly, means well. Doyle’s ability to justify the decisions his character, Bobby, makes garnered plenty of eye rolls but also connection and sympathy. Aaron’s wildly entertaining Maria was a matriarch of the best kind, oftentimes making a quip sandwich where the insults are the bread sandwiching a genuine compliment or word of advice in the meat slot. The love shared was never in doubt, and by play’s end, you wish playwright Matthew Lombardo had more conversations to write. But what was left was a completely wholesome and honest look at a mother and son that journeys from camp to casket. With the limited run having closed, make an effort to see Conversations with Mother at regional houses near you should the play see the light of day beyond its New York run–and that life after is most-deserved.

Othello (#901)

When it comes to Shakespeare, modern-day interpretations may differ from modern-day adaptations. Interpretation-does the entire company live to interpret Shakespeare’s lines, messages, and characters for a modern audience. Or, Adaptation-where the adapter, often times the director and/or a writer tapped to pen an “updated version," says, "Look what I can do!” resulting in Romeo and Juliet in outer space, Mel Gibson playing Hamlet, or a site-specific The Tempest at Coney Island (actually, I’d pay money to see that last one). Seeing the current revival of Othello, helmed by masterful director, Kenny Leon, was a thrilling, artistically fulfilling experience once I could see past the unnecessary aesthetic concept attempt and solely focus on the superb acting, timbre of delivery, and knack for finding every laugh this tragedy has to offer. Leon’s pacing and attention to each role’s arc, personality, and development of the power dynamics is what stamps him and the cast as interpreters of my favorite Shakespearean play.

Jake Gyllenhall and Denzel Washington rise above their Hollywood notoriety and fall right into their characters’ authenticity. What makes Gyllenhall’s Iago a devastatingly alluring performance is that he charms his way through every blatant and gaslighting plot to take down Othello. His soliloquy deliveries offer a multi-course meal where, even though you’ve just had a full helping of the prior course, you can’t help but long for the next dish to be served. His Iago is haunting, grounded, and brings with it a bro-ey inflection that makes his villainous motivations all too relevant. Washington’s Othello has the charisma he is known for on screen, stage, and in interviews, but not without a sturdy confidence that marks his return to Othello (he played the roles in his early 20s) a wholly realized and emotionally-driven protagonist.

In their supporting roles, Andrew Burnap, Kimber Elayne Sprawl, and Molly Osborne are standouts as Cassio, Emilia, and Desdemona, respectively. Osborne’s ingenue is heartbreakingly loyal while never coming across as weak or not without opinions that she’s willing to state at any moment. Her chemistry opposite Washington is lustfully pure, and her time with Sprawl shows a tender strength to the sole female friendship we see in the play. Sprawl is commanding as the Emilia opposite Gyllenhall’s powerhouse Iago. She delivers her desire to please him while juxtaposing her immediate calling out of what the handkerchief represents with a turn-on-a-dime performance of emotion and loyalty not many actors can hold consistently, but Sprawl delivers her arc as if in a Shakespearean masterclass. Burnap’s turn as Cassio is a full-fledged lesson in how to play the hits of your character’s emotional highs and lows so the audience is helpless to feel for you. Leon’s direction of him and Washington in their parallel three-peat of Cassio’s “Reputation” and Othello’s “Blood” lines is where the play, in case the audience hadn’t caught it yet, is in the hands of a top-tier director who knows how to pace, inform, and guide his cast to moments of why Shakespeare is still done to this day.

While not every detail is needed for this production to soar the way it does–notably the occasional off-putting or vibe-switching sound design–it doesn’t get in the way of what is blatantly obvious–this is an Othello worth being at the Barrymore Theatre.

(This production was still in Previews when I saw it.)

The story of Floyd Collins has been documented by way of reporting, film, books, and now as a Broadway musical. Tina Landau helms this production with a knack for staging the cast in and amongst dots’ climbing-friendly--unless you're the titular hero, that is (too soon?)--set design in a way that shapes and shifts this musical with a grandiose vibe that doesn’t reach a fully justified peak. Adam Guetell’s score tends to overstay its welcome in most songs, where the plot or character development aren’t propelled or benefited by. Once Floyd is trapped–it happens in the first ten minutes or so–there’s a feeling of, “well, now what?” and that feeling is sustained for nearly the entire production, when in song.

When the peak event of a musical happens in the opening number, it’s quite the hill to climb to not just maintain interest in typical musical form, but to even justify why a full two-act musical, running roughly two hours and thirty minutes, even needs be a full two-act musical with a rough runtime of two hours and thirty minutes. Where this show thrives is in the scene work, especially between titular hero, played by a dynamite, hard-working Jeremy Jordan, and beat reporter sent in to cover the story and ends up helping with the rescue, Skeets, played by a scene-stealing, eagerly impassioned Taylor Trensch. Both actors share an incredibly crafted friendship sparked between both of their motivations for wanting to be seen for their generally overlooked, and rarely uttered, life’s dreams. Jason Gotay is a standout as brother to Floyd, Homer, and delivers one of the highlight tunes, the act one ditty, “The Riddle Song,” where acting chops and sweet-to-the-ear harmonies are delivered by Gotay and Jordan. “The Dream” serves as a terrific sequence, one of the few moments where Jordan is able to stand in suspension of disbelief and give a glimmer of hope with the company before beginning the end of the journey. It's a bright, beautifully staged and sung piece that I could have sat in for much longer (yes, even though I’ve already griped about the score overstaying its welcome.)

Jon Rua’s staging of the dance sequences pairs well with Guettel’s upbeat tune for the act two opener, “Is That Remarkable,” which, for me, may make more structural sense to be placed earlier in the show. But it’s a stellar welcome back from intermission and, to the production and creative team’s credits, capitalizes on the boost in energy which lasts for the duration of the show. 

Technically, the textured stage, and Scott Zielinski’s excellent lighting design give the ambiance of both underground and on-land drama. Landau, who’s no stranger to making her titular roles climb a set (I want to see Ethan Slater and Jeremy Jordan see who can climb the more gymnastically built set while sustaining the highest note they can belt) truly sets the tone in her guidance and pacing of the book scenes and often through the longer tunes Guettel has composed. The cast, uniformly, has a tight-knit, farmer-mentality camaraderie that is palpable and makes for all the better to be broken up when Sean Allan Krill’s commanding Carmichael comes in to shakes things up and drive the message of man vs. machine/technology thread that holds its own as a second point-of-focus to Floyd’s rescue attempt. With Floyd Collins now playing the Broadway stage, it lends itself to being a show that, should it be for you, will take you on a deft, character-driven journey that will seem comfy and cozy. For those in my club, which I believe there are few, the trapped feeling Jordan conveys all too convincingly will transcend the Beaumont stage and right into you feeling trapped in your seat.

Operation Mincemeat (#902)

Who would’ve thought a musical about a World War II mission to fool the Nazis with a dead body washing up on shore with dud plans to infiltrate a decoy area would be a musical that is an absolute hit? Operation Mincemeat is this very musical, and one that is a must-see. The cast of five is one of the hardest-working casts on Broadway as I write this, drumming up historical references, a large mix of musical stylings, and the quippiest of the quips paired with the wittiest of the wits at a pace that is the quickest of the quicks. Operation Mincemeat, however, isn’t just punchline and sight gag after another; it’s a heartfelt tribute to a person who, literally unknowingly, gave his service in his death, to help defeat the Nazis.

The SpitLip theatre group is rooted in professional Funny. They know what lands, what the audience will find enjoyable but, most of all, how to take the audience on a rollercoaster of entertainment so both emotion-feeling and gut-busting laughter are achieved. With book, music, and lyrics written by David Cumming, Felix Hagan, Natasha Hodgson, and Zoe Roberts, the text and score are not just made for the London stage (where the musical won the Olivier Award for Best New Musical), but for the Broadway stage as well. They honor the tried-and-true rule of comedy where you go as fast as possible and trust the audience will catch up; and when the audience does catch up, they’ll realize how much of a gem this musical is..

The cast, comprised of the aforementioned Cumming, Hodgson, and Roberts as well as Claire-Marie Hall and Jak Malone (who won an Olivier Award for Best Actor in a Supporting Role in a Musical), are a uniformly talented bunch who take us through the story of an unknown body, eventually named Bill, being used to deceive the Nazis. Through hijinks, historical oopsies and triumphs, the MI5 special military group succeeds! However, it’s the pacing and structure of the show where audiences are served a cornucopia of musical theatre treats. The opening “Born to Lead” and “God That’s Brilliant” bring the audience into the breakneck pace of the show, serving as both foundational exposition of both the plot and the style of a very British musical we’re embarking on. As the staging and numbers propel the plot and characters are developed, the musical reaches a high point of deep-seated heart. One of the most earned, unassuming numbers, “Dear Bill,” comes in the later part of act one, and is delivered masterfully by Jak Malone. Mark Henderson’s lighting does that thing (amazing descriptor, right?) where you forget and don’t notice, until you do, the light slowly shifting and you realize just how intimate the blue special has made the song, and when you notice it, you only sink more into your chair to sit more into the song and consent to the emotional pull when an actor’s performance meets the designer’s nuance. Malone’s performance of “Dear Bill” shows the audience that there is depth to this show, and is a pleasantly jarring realization that it’s had this heartfelt depth (within varying levels of comedy and historical storytelling, of course) the whole time. From “Dear Bill” onward, the audience is sturdily in the hands of the five-actor troupe, if they weren't already, through the musical’s end.

Jenny Arnold’s choreography of the show as a whole, but most notably in the act two opener, “Das Ubermensch” is a stellar piece of upbeat, energetically pumped dancing that goes so far away from the previously encountered movement numbers and yet matches the style beautifully. Robert Hastie’s direction makes sense in every locale shift, sense of when to slow and when to speed up, and most importantly, to convince the audience that this story is not just worth telling but worth showing, and showing now. This musical, as a whole, is a fantastic example of when spaghetti gets thrown against the wall, sometimes a full-course, Michelin-star meal comes of it. This has stars written all over it. Go see this show!

The Outsiders (#903)

Last year’s Best Musical winner holds up, and not just because it’s a near-close faithful adaptation of S.E. Hinton’s required reading (and rightfully so!) book. Danya Taymor’s thrilling, raw, story-driven direction is what makes this production sing, fight, and garner tears that reaches pique musical theatre level.

The musical’s plot follows the book quite closely, with some expansion of the relationships between Greasers and Socs, but not much, as not much more is needed. Ponyboy (played expertly by understudy Trevor Wayne at the Thursday matinee I saw) traverses principal Greaser and narrator with clean, concise, and a cool charisma in his expositional asides and solos while playing within the scenes with great grit and terrific timing. His voice is perfectly suited for his leading of the raucous opening, “Tulsa ‘67,” the delightful pondering in “Great Expectations,” and with dynamite emotional pull opposite Tony-nominee Sky Lakota-Lynch as Johnny in “Stay Gold.” Giving brotherly support in tough love fashion is understudy Dan Berry as oldest brother, Darrel, and dopey but loveable middle brother, Jason Schmidt as Sodapop. Both Berry and Schmidt play well-paced and tempered scenes alongside Wayne’s Ponyboy, letting the outbursts of anger truly take effect. Berry’s baritone twang fits like a glove in his turns at “Runs in the Family” and especially in trio with he, Wayne, and Schmidt in a dynamite “Throwing in the Towel.” Schmidt’s “Soda’s Letter” is the first of two “letter” songs, allowing the softer, fully realized side of the otherwise all-passion brother show his deep-seated appreciation for not just his siblings but for their well-being and uncompromising family-first mentality. 

Alex Joseph Grayson and Emma Pitman are supporting standouts as Dallas and Cherry, respectively. Grayson is a domineering presence who delivers his devastating arc with poise, strength, and a booming baritone that the Jacobs Theatre can hardly contain. His tough-but-obvious love towards Johnny and Ponyboy is emotionally compelling in his confrontation scene opposite Darrel, and Grayson’s leading of “Trouble” is captivating from start to finish. Pitman is a fully realized ingenue, given a bit more meat in Adam Rapp and Justin Levine’s book, while making the most of Levine, Jonathan Clay, and Zach Chance’s beautiful score, especially in her duet with Ponyboy, “I Could Talk to You All Night,” and in the second act’s second “Hopeless War." 

Rick and Jeff Kuperman’s choreography melts seamlessly with Taymor’s staging, making the dance sequences a crucial aspect to the storytelling. This collaboration in production staging hits a crescendo in the rainstorm rumble, a feat of staging meeting score meeting pinpoint commitment by the cast. The Outsiders is a title that has stood the test of time and will clearly continue to. With this charged, fresh adaptation, fans of the story can flock to the Jacobs Theatre to enjoy this timeless tale that is certainly staying gold, but now in a new and exciting way; a way that only live musical theatre can provide.

Gypsy (#904)

Rose is a titan of a role, leading a musical where most thespians and scholars agree has a near-perfect, if not flawless, book, score, and structure. For a legendary pedigree of leading ladies who have taken on the infamous stage mom of all stage moms, Audra McDonald only made sense to be next in line. McDonald’s Rose is a vulnerable, no-holds-barred, brassy take that is 100% justified by the text, both in scene and song, and the company, in support of her turn, is able to go toe-to-toe with the six-time Tony-winner. Under George C. Wolfe’s sturdy direction, where family, comedy, and heart take conceptual center, this production of Gypsy is a near-perfect revival.

From the moment Jacob Ming-Trent’s buttery baritone vibrato warbles through as Uncle Jocko, the performative concept is made clear: everyone in this Gypsy is performing for someone, to impress or seek validation, their longing on display to get their Turn, as it would be. Ming-Trent handles the short comedic turn as Jocko wonderfully, and sets up the powerhouse vocals and dance turns by Jade Smith’s Baby June. “May We Entertain You” isn’t just an opening number, but an establishing of the sisters’ June and Louise journey from child performers to adults who pursue artistic, and familial, autonomy. McDonald’s Rose is relentless in her steamrolling of any assumed authority figure attempting to prevent an always moving goalpost of success for her family. Danny Burstein’s heartbreaking Herbie is grounded and earnest, and his knack for empathetic delivery garners pity without ever losing respect for his Herbie. He’s never a doormat, but rather a deep well of support and love for Rose and her daughters, until the water dries up and the temper finally flares. Rounding out the quality quartet of performing family members are the excellent Jordan Tyson as June and dynamite Joy Woods as Louise. Tyson’s youthful energy never comes across as forced, but rather a means to an end of biding her time till she’s ready to ditch the act and her mother with Tulsa (played by an unimpressive Kevin Csolak in a forgettable turn at “All I Need is the Girl”). Woods’s drive and expertly paced arc shows the growth from butt of cow to star stripper with authenticity and genuine growth into greedily craving the spotlight for herself for once. The sisters’ “If Momma Was Married” serves as a sweet look at their bond and love for one another as they dream and playfully commiserate. Woods, McDonald, and Burstein seem like the family that always-was in a buoyant, chemistry-filled “Together, Wherever We Go.”

Lili Thomas (Mazeppa), Mylinda Hull (Electra), and especially Lesli Margherita (Tessie Tura) are scene-stealing strippers in a comedic gold performance of “You Gotta Get a Gimmick.” With hip-bumping, timing, and beautiful belting at their disposal, this number is one that serves as the comedic relief ahead of the dramatic downturn the musical takes shortly after. Camille A. Brown’s choreography mostly hits the mark with respect to showcasing the talents and propelling the story of Rose’s act staying stuck in the past being tensely pushed to be updated out of the cutesy vaudeville stuff to more adult-riddled content in Louise’s “Let Me Entertain You.” Specifically, Brown’s staging of the transition from young performers to the older performers is both creative and thrilling in showing the aging time jump effectively. Brown’s staging is in complement to Wolfe’s rapidly paced scene work, where the audience is on the ride at Rose’s speed, which sits somewhere between I Want it Now and I Wanted it Five Years Ago. McDonald’s “Rose’s Turn” is crafted with such abandon of emotion, where, for the first time I’ve seen a Rose, she is almost mocking the time and effort given to the kids’ acts and her daughters when she could have invested in herself. Her vocals shake the newly renovated Majestic Theatre, and what’s left is a titan of an actress having just nailed a titan of a role. 

Gypsy may just be one of those shows, and Rose just one of those roles, that actresses and directors will always go back to. Wolfe’s edition shows that one doesn’t need to “fix” anything, but simply have a strong, focused interpretation of the material, trust its strength, and cast the roles accordingly. This is one of those moments where, if in your control, you need to take advantage of the timeline where you are alive while Audra McDonald is performing. See this show and simply let this cast entertain you at a level you’re not accustomed to.

Cabaret (#905)

Cabaret, a hallmark of Kander and Ebb’s stamp on musical theater, continues to prove its relevancy in our modern-day political and social climate. Joe Masteroff’s book aids this urgency to always re-visit Cabaret: The material is timeless and, unfortunately, provides an entertaining sobriety for its audiences. The current reimagining playing the renovated August Wilson Theatre is helmed by Rebecca Frecknall, fresh from a London transfer and, while the whole concept doesn’t lend itself to necessity to compel, it certainly is justified in the staging and execution of the minimalist cabaret-style scenic and theatre design by Tom Scutt. The concept shows how strong Cabaret is when it’s just a revolving stage, props, and a committed ensemble to convey the messages and emotions the show evokes. 

Currently leading the cabaret are Orville Peck as the Emcee and Eva Noblezada as Sally. Peck is infallible, powerful, and properly domineering, bringing his country music timbre to a solid German dialect and a sensual nuance to his turn as the evening’s host. His leadership of “Willkommen,” a raunchy good time of “Two Ladies,” and a stellar “Money” stamps his performance as a legit turn in the iconic role. However, it’s Peck’s haunting delivery of “Tomorrow Belongs to Me,” a gloriously composed and arranged anthem of nationalism-motivated hate, where Peck’s natural bari-tenor shines through and the echoes of vibrato deliver the exact horrors the song evokes. The understudy to Noblezada’s Sally, Gabi Campo did fine in “Don’t Tell Mama,” where her vocal gymnastics and comedic chops are excellent, but couldn’t hold consistently through an inconsistent performance of various accents and songs with little-to-no plot-driven drive. Understudy to Cliff, Julian Ramos, also could not match the depth and intensity this leading man needs to make this American novelist interesting enough to empathize with. The chemistry between he and Campo was near to non-existent, and their final confrontation, after Campo's passionately sung title number, held no gravitas of Cliff’s temper being the final straw for their breakup. 

Steven Skybell and Ellen Harvey hold down the fort of foundational heart and wisdom as Herr Schulz and Fraulein Schneider. Their relationship’s arc, while always being supported by their individual struggles, are expertly guided, effectively delivered, and given a slow-burn treatment that is worth every payoff imaginable. Harvey nails the pattery, reality check comedy of “So What,” while she and Skybell are tear-jerkingly adorable in “It Couldn’t Please Me More.” While Campo isn’t without talent, the Friday night performance I attended had “What Would You Do?” serve as the true torch song, the 11 0’clock number that stood on its own as a show-stopping alarm to audiences having just witnessed an actress commit wholly to a most-vulnerable and emotionally exhausting solo that impresses vocally as much as as it comments socially and politically.

Julia Cheng’s choreography is fantastic in using the dynamite ensemble and in complementing of Frecknall’s staging and pacing. “Willkommen,” “Don’t Tell Mama,” “Mein Herr,” “Money,” and the “Kick Line” are glamorous and show-offy (in the best of ways) of the ensemble’s talents and allure. Their use and implementation of serving the principals and the primary plots are focused, intentional, and impactful throughout. Even the ending, which is a huge divergence in this iteration from what “traditional” Cabaret productions depict, shows how conformity can be seen as detrimental to a society as any poison. While I can’t recommend this production as urgent, the show itself is always a warning that most seem to forget. Cabaret isn’t just a fun ditty with a title song Liza made famous; it’s a hard-hitting piece of musical theatre that, when in the hands of the right team, will reinforce exactly what we must be on guard for.

Death Becomes Her (#906)

In an era where film-to-musical adaptations are in certainly more supply than demand, it can be a raucously refreshing time at the theater when a campy, knows-what-it-is, delight of a musical serves as your live entertainment. Such is the case with Death Becomes Her, a new musical by Marco Pennette (Book) and Julia Mattison and Noel Carey (Music and Lyrics), adapted from the 1992 film of the same name. Christopher Gattelli’s direction and choreography serves the material well, capturing several of the notable bits from the film (fans of the film will know such bits; but they entertain just as effectively if you haven’t done your homework) while allowing the cast to simply have a ball on stage. 

Megan Hilty and Jennifer Simard lead Death…as aging star of the screen, Madeline, and vengeful frienemy, Helen, respectively. While the vocals are impressive, especially Hilty in a demanding opening number, “For the Gaze” and Simard in “Madeline,” it’s the comedic timing that is impeccable, polished, and pristine from start to finish. The duo never lets a laugh get missed or opportunity for a beat to not be filled with a take, glare, or wink. While, structurally, act one gives more opportunity for laughs and pure musical comedy than act two, the musical never hiccups in pacing thanks to Gattelli’s outstanding staging and use of the ensemble. Michelle Williams, as spiritual guide of sorts, Viola, is dynamite in her vocal performance while otherwise being guided and trotting along on stage for awkward interjections of reprised phrases. Her opening “If You Want Perfection” is a terrific calibration for the type of comedy and vibe of the score audiences can expect, but Williams never gets to outshine that introductory bit. 

Josh Lamon is a featured standout as Madeline’s assistant, Stefan, given one-liner after one-liner of deprecating and hilariously smudgy lines; the show is stolen in Lamon’s epically passionate solo, “Stefan’s Turn.” Christopher Sieber is utterly charming in all of the most frumpy alcohol-driven ways as Madeline’s husband, Ernest. Sieber’s delivery of “‘Til Death” and especially the second act’s “The Plan” are musical highlights which make his role a memorable leading performance where, in the hands of other creatives and actors, could be a second-thought, throw away role opposite the two leading ladies. Rounding out the principal cast is a stunning Taurean Everett as Viola’s assistant, Chagall. Everett’s posture, movement, glares, and dry delivery of insult and false praise are expertly delivered.

With the film having won the Oscar for Best Visual Effects, Gattelli more than answers the call for creating moments of skilled choreography to mimic the cinematic technology (without spoilers: best staircase fall ever!). Paul Tazewell’s costume design is a flourish of glamour, color, and personality, allowing for Tim Clothier’s illusion work and Charles G. LaPointe (Hair/Wig design) and Joe Dulude II’s (Make-Up design) work to shine even brighter in capturing the twist and turns of the zany plot and antics. Death Becomes Her is a sure-fire belly laugh of a musical, and is one you’ll want to make sure you see!

Oh, Mary! (#907)

This was an early not-gonna-miss title when I began planning my New York trip and boy am I glad I did not miss it. The benefit of seeing the original cast, specifically the show’s creator and leading performer, Cole Escola, is that you’re witness to the brilliance of the script, the genius of their timing, and the chemistry of the cast combining for a wildly hilarious, pensive at times, performance. Oh, Mary! is easily one of the most comically brilliant pieces of theatre I have ever seen.

Escola leads a terrific cast as the often-intoxicated, passionate, raunchy Mary Todd Lincoln, a female figure in history who is often studied and discussed. No offense to all previous iconic portrayals of the sixteenth president’s wife, (Dear Sally Field, I like you; I really like you!) but Escola’s fictitious take on the fifteenth first lady is my new standard for showing her true desire to be more than just a plus-one to Abe. Escola’s physical comedy is tops, with a marathon-pace of line delivery that is exhausting in the most entertaining, thrilling of ways. In short order, you find yourself rooting for Mary Todd, wanting her to–amidst all her rambunctious antics, profanities, and truly unladylike demeanor–succeed and get what she truly wants: to shine on stage. Without spoilers, the final portion of the play showcases Escola’s well-rounded talents in true celebratory, ultimate campy form; an unapologetic love for the stage while serving a satisfying tied-up bow for Mary Todd's journey.

Supporting cast includes Conrad Ricamora as Mary’s Husband and James Scully as Mary’s Teacher. Ricamora stupendously shouts his way through his performance as Abraham, but never at a level that isn’t warranted; the stresses of the war don’t seem to compare to the stress of being betrothed to Mary Todd, after all. Ricamora has a dripping delivery of disdain, excitement, and foreshadowing that plays well off the rest of the cast. Scully’s dashing Teacher is a welcomed new energy among the sturdy support of the White House regulars in Bianca Leigh’s Mary’s Chaperone and Tony Macht’s Mary’s Husband’s Assistant. Scully delivers Shakespeare with bro vibe-infused eloquence and a physical command that is expertly calibrated opposite Escola’s more wild, eccentric Mary Todd. Leigh’s “Ice Cream” anecdote is delivered with gut-busting takes and inflection, while Macht’s unsuspecting-yet-strategic demure provides youthful exuberance in the most surprising of circumstances.

Sam Pinkleton’s direction serves the script and cast’s strengths as well as serving the directorial vision. With a strong background in musical theatre and, specifically, choreography, Oh, Mary! has a storytelling flare much in the vein of most dance-heavy musicals where the plot/character development doesn’t stop when the dance number starts. The scenic design by dots is well-utilized in terms of staging, set dressing, and giving space for comedy, exposition, and some seriously humorous bits. With yet another extension announced (at the time of this review’s publishing) I implore you to not spend another moment of your life being part of the population who has not seen Oh, Mary! 

Maybe Happy Ending (#908)

The finale of my New York trip afforded me the chance to see Maybe Happy Ending, an original musical that explores what two models of robots can feel, experience, and pursue when teaming up with differing motivations. Led by the perfectly cast Darren Criss as Oliver and Helen J. Shen as Claire, this musical has one of the most heartfelt stories and character arcs as any modern classic could provide.

When Oliver becomes disgruntled that his owner, James, isn’t retrieving him, as promised, he goes on a trip, with the battery-deficient Claire, to seek him out. However, the disappointing result–which I shan’t spoil in specifics here–shows a deep level of emotions felt and emotional restraint that Oliver attempts to quantify in expression through processing. Shen delivers a hilarious foil to Criss’s Oliver, shining in both song and scene. Both Shen and Criss share looks, deliveries, and proximal awareness that show a connection writers Will Aronson and Hue Park have deftly created. With a succinct two-act structure plopped into a no-intermission show, the audience is given ample time to learn the world, fall in love with the characters, and relax into the captivating plot.

Supporting roles are delivered with grounded finesse by Marcu Choi as James, Juseo and Others and Dez Duron as crooner Gil Brentley. Choi has the fun in portraying both father and son, doing so with simple-yet-effective changes in posture and energy with ease and compelling connection in supporting Oliver’s act two arc. Duron’s voice sounds as if plucked from the Rat Pack lounge days, and his presence is grounded in each solo turn. Michael Arden’s direction gives foundation and urgency to this feel-good, riveting musical tale, allowing for space to breathe while never sitting too long in a moment for momentum to hiccup. Arden’s macro-vision for letting the technical design team do their work in telling the story gives more gravitas to setting a tone early and reinforcing it often. Dane Laffrey (scenic and additional video design) is as much a character as the four-person cast and adorable plant companion, HwaBoon (who has their own bio!), allowing for a fluid, visually alluring design in the various locales of the musical. George Reev’s video design allows for the data-based memory footage to be as relevant and gripping as the action in front of us. 

What solidifies this as a musical in the top-tier musicals I’ve ever seen is that–due to the luck of winning the digital lotto–my seat was front row orchestra, but several seats towards the aisle, so some of the true centerstage scene work was cut off from my view. The ending of the musical has two results, either of which is confirmed with a look, either of which I could not see. I knew I wouldn’t see it. I relied on the audience’s reaction to indicate what, specifically, Claire chose to do. I couldn’t figure it out from the audience's  reaction. I didn’t ask anyone on my way out. I haven’t looked it up since. And it doesn’t matter. Because as I exited the Belasco Theatre happy, pleasantly exhausted, and artistically fulfilled, I found comfort in this musical being so superb that either ending works, is justified, and would make me content. That’s when you know it’s a damn good show. 

Maybe Happy Ending is one of those musicals that is both relevant and revelatory, a mark of how original musicals can still affect when handled carefully, with nuance and a focused, well-communicated message. Through the robots’ journey, human affection for longing, connection, and being needed is as felt as when we first realize that we do, in fact, need to experience those feelings to truly be happy. So go make yourself happy and see this show, and much luck on Tony Awards Sunday; this one has my vote!