Lanford Wilson’s Vietnam-ruined Talley clan seems a little dated in an imperfect revival of Fifth of July; David Lindsay-Abaire’s glibness runs riot in Kimberly Akimbo.

"The Country Club" is a deft, sad tale of twentysomething blue bloods at loose ends; "Mud" and "Drowning" give you the feeling of drowning in mud.

How, I wonder, could one salvage the presently disastrous musical Good Vibrations, which is based on the preexistent songs of the Beach Boys?

At the National Theatre, Trevor Nunn updates Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice" with ingenious panache (despite a few lapses).

Seussical; Old Money

In “Master Harold” . . . and the boys, Athol Fugard turns a fox-trot into a haunting allegory of racial equality; Humble Boy has bees in its stylish bonnet.

John Patrick Shanley’s Doubt, a nearly flawless work, suffers not a bit in the transfer to Broadway.

Neil Simon's "The Sunshine Boys," with Klugman and Randall, scores by hitting the comic basics -- insults, old age, New Jersey.

Critic John Simon reviews Frank McGuinness' new play: "The American actors were so good at their Irish that I often lagged behind. The bigger problem, though, was what the play was trying to say."