'How to ****eed in Business Without Really ******' is a lot more compelling, isn't it?
The production reminds us what theater, at its simplest and most powerful, is really for: The alchemical thrill of watching an entire world conjured into being out of sheer wit and will.
British comedy hero Daniel Kitson's one-man show recounts how being a polite Brit can really put a damper on killing yourself.
And who doesn't want to see that? Ibsen's nasty John Gabriel Borkman is at its black-comic best when these two bite into it.
"Quicker than you can say 'All My Sons,'' our critic is hooked on polarized clans again.
Oscar Wilde's classic comedy is so ingrained in our shared comedy unconscious that it seems impossible to make fresh. That is, unless you're Brian Bedford.
The play is flawed — a majestic wallow set to the music of blue-collar despair — but the voice of playwright Tommy Nohilly is very promising.
This elaborate doomsday scenario about assassination, our ambient insanity, and its complex relationship with American politics was just a little too close for comfort after the events of this weekend.
Another vampire that sucks on Broadway, and two plays with amorous coupling for all ages!
What should I see again?
Next up: Scott Brown is irritated by vitamin supplements!
Theater Review: Watch an Actor Commit Career Suicide in His Apartment. One-of-a-Kind Theater You Don’t Want to Miss!
Ed Schmidt's haunting one-man show in his Brooklyn bachelor pad is about how theater has failed him in his hour of need.
It's a relaxed-fit evening of hip musical scholarship and guys’-night-in yammering.
The tantalizing possibility of a new era of Kickstarter theater.
Personally, I'm hoping for an incredible two-man version of "Another National Anthem" from 'Assassins.'
The play mates two dazzlingly great performances and gets under your skin, but it stops well short of a full Edward Albeean purge.
Rebecca Northan has arrived at a remarkable insight: An unscripted comedy-hour is really no different than a blind date — right down to the two-drink minimum.
'The Great Game' is seven mostly remarkable, nearly always riveting hours of docudrama--a download of Wikileaksian proportions
John Kelly is performing his unclassifiable multimedia show for the last time.
What kind of vermin is Gregor Samsa, anyway? No one’s ever been able to pin it down.
It's the kind of messy work I've come to adore.
However nobly conceived, however starrily stunt-cast, they just seem not to work on Broadway.
Bracing revivals, brilliantly executed.
It's comforting, when Big Money rips a big hole in Brooklyn, to see docu-theater troupe The Civilians fill the bleeding void with smart art.
Theater Review: From the Folks That Brought You Brief Encounter, a Gorgeously Underdeveloped Red Shoes
Despite a spectacular ensemble and searing visuals, the show suffers from a lack of cogent dramaturgy.