Category: Capsule Reviews

By Robyn Roberts

There is a distinct kind of magic that occurs when a century-old theatrical artifact is dusted off, popped and primed, then poured out for a contemporary audience, like a frosty bottle of expensive champagne. When Roundabout Theatre Company announced their major Broadway revival of Noël Coward’s initially-taboo 1925 comedy, Fallen Angels, at the beautifully renovated Todd Haimes Theatre, insiders and stage fans alike responded with immense curiosity. Could a drawing-room farce centered on upper-class British housewives pining over a shared pre-marital French lover still resonate, let alone provoke the raucous belly laughs required of a premium Broadway ticket today?

The overwhelming answer is yes. Under the witty direction of Tony Award nominee Scott Ellis, the intermission-free production is a flawless display of comedic timing, distinguished clowning, and shameless escapism. Museum-piece preciousness of the Art Deco era is replaced with a relentless, dizzying energy that channels the best of classic Hollywood screwball comedies, albeit while dripping in silk and feathers. Led by a dream-team of femme power, Tony winner Kelli O’Hara and Golden Globe winner Rose Byrne, Fallen Angels does more than simply entertain; it serves as a gorgeous and hilarious, hour-and-a-half reminder of how profoundly fresh pure theatrical fun can be.

Walking into the new Todd Haimes Theatre feels less like entering a cavernous Broadway house and more like being invited into an exclusive, upscale mid-1920s salon. The perfect location to tell this story. But this is also a venue designed for shared amusement, providing the ideal acoustic chamber for the fits of laughter that will undoubtedly plague the audience.

Set and vibe designer, David Rockwell, has outdone himself with this one, constructing a luxurious and stately London drawing room that is a colorful feast for the eyes. Expect rich textures, deluxe furnishings, architectural flourishes, and an expansive layout that gives the actors ample room to slide, stumble, and stomp during their most unhinged physical sequences. The set feels grounded in its period historical accuracy, yet vibrant and cinematic enough to look entirely alive. Matching Rockwell’s memorable space is the work of costume designer Jeff Mahshie. The garments worn by Byrne and O’Hara are nothing short of frothy. From the draped, fluid lines of silk pajamas to more structured, glamorous evening wear, Mahshie’s dressings capture the reckless indulgence of the Roaring Twenties with gilded precision. The wardrobes act as a brilliant comedic foil, as the characters’ internal composure completely unravels, their external wardrobe remains stubbornly glamorous, heightening the delicious absurdity of the affair.

While Fallen Angels is largely driven by its two delightful leading ladies, the revival’s supporting cast also promises that the momentum never falters when the spotlight shifts away from the central sofa. Tracee Chimo plays the newly hired, brilliant and outspoken maid, and is a scene-stealing delight. Saunders prides herself on a life of endless past experiences in which she feels inclined to serve the ladies, as often as a fresh glass of bubbles. Whenever Chimo enters the scene, you can expect a haughty punchline to follow. 

In a Broadway landscape that often leans into moody dramas or massive, highly-engineered spectacles, Fallen Angels rises to the surface as a hilarious love letter to the art of the actor. It does not ask you to dig deep, nor does it seek to resemble the heavy anxieties of the modern world. Instead, Fallen Angels offers a glorious, unadulterated escape into a ninety-minute sanctuary of laughs, messy glitz and glamour, and memorable, standout performances. See it before it ends on June 7! 

By Ben Lerner 

The current Broadway season of plays is full of high-stakes drama, intensity, topicality, and stellar performances. Oedipus, for example, is gripping and haunting. Marjorie Prime is powerful and deeply relevant. Neither is light viewing — you’ll leave shellshocked — but both are effectively thought-provoking, top-tier dramatic theatre. If you liked either of those, add Bug to your list now.

Carrie Coon stars in a revival of her husband Tracy Letts’ 1996 thriller, which was also adapted into a horror film starring Ashley Judd and Michael Shannon. It takes place exclusively in the motel room of Agnes (Coon), who strikes up a friendship with Peter, an ex-soldier with a mysterious backstory (Namir Smallwood). The supporting cast is Agnes’ abusive ex-husband (Steve Key), her friend and drug dealer R.C. (the scene-stealing Jennifer Engstrom), and a doctor from Peter’s past (Randall Arney).

In this new Broadway production at Manhattan Theatre Club’s Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, the events remain horrifying — but it’s not necessarily a straight-up horror play. The new direction by David Cromer, and especially the devastating lead performances by Coon and Smallwood, present a story that surely gets gory (be forewarned) but is more sad than prior iterations. In other words, the villain and his victim are both suffering from mental illness and/or trauma, and the ways in which they descend into madness evoke sympathy alongside shock.

If you think Act One is a slow burn, just you wait. Act Two builds to a crescendo of shocking proportions, mirroring the slippery slope of conspiracies and how quickly things can devolve from reality to insanity. I found the full nearly two-hour performance gripping, but it’s worth knowing this one builds exponentially, so each scene is more “off” than the last — at first subtly, and eventually very, very climactically.

The notion this play is just about conspiracy theorists, at least in a “faked moon landing” sense, is reductive — one character is sick, while the other is susceptible. It begs the question: if conspiracy theorists are “delusional,” are all people experiencing delusions conspiracy theorists? Or are they all just unwell? The play doesn’t answer this, so you’ll be left theorizing. As the lead characters leave reality, it’s sometimes unclear if what we see onstage is real. Are we a fly on the wall (no pun intended), or are we seeing it through the eyes of the drug-abusing lead characters? 

What is certain is that Carrie Coon delivers a tour de force. Fans who love her from The Gilded Age or The White Lotus will forget those characters quickly, as Coon transforms into Agnes, who couldn’t be more different. With a season full of intense, thought-provoking dramas anchored by spectacular lead female performances, this year’s race for the Leading Actress in a Play Tony Award will be heated. Coon enters the competition as a major threat alongside Jean Smart in Call Me Izzy, June Squibb and/or Cynthia Nixon in Marjorie Prime, and my personal pick, the brilliant Lesley Manville in Oedipus. Many more plays are set to open this spring, so plenty could change. For now, don’t miss Carrie Coon in Bug, through March 8 only. Tickets at https://www.manhattantheatreclub.com/shows/2025-26-season/bug/

By Ben Lerner

Plays exist to entertain. Some amuse. Some devastate. Some evoke complex thought. Some, like Data, do all three. To say that Matthew Libby’s new Off-Broadway work is timely would be a massive understatement. 

A deeply relevant and suspenseful drama, Data is by no means an upper, though its satirical elements of Silicon Valley tech bro culture bring some laughs. But it doesn’t take long for existential dread and moral dilemmas to overwhelm the lead character, a new employee at tech company Athena named Maneesh (the terrific Karan Brar). His concerns and fears mirror the audience’s, as the hyperrealism of Libby’s narrative sets in. It’s a work of fiction — Athena doesn’t exist, but it’s palpable that the tech companies that do are just as ethically dangerous as they appear in the play.  

The 100-minute, intermission-free drama follows Maneesh as he is recruited out of his basic job in user experience (UX) under mentor/himbo Jonah (Brandon Flynn) to the prestigious data analytics team under CEO Alex Chen (Justin H. Min). Maneesh is hesitant, but his college friend Riley (Sophia Lillis), who is already central to the data team, gets him a meeting with her boss. Each of the four characters’ motivations are not what they initially seem, as secrets are revealed and the gravity of Maneesh’s dilemma simultaneously hits him and the audience.

Sharply directed by Tyne Rafaeli, Data brings Libby’s script to life with sleek, effective set and lighting design, respectively by Marsha Ginsberg and Amith Chandrashaker. As Maneesh, Karan Brar, best known for Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Disney Channel’s Jessie and Bunk’d, more than proves his dramatic prowess for a very different audience (not for kids!). Sophia Lillis (of the It horror films) is the other standout as Riley, who we first meet as a nervous, socially awkward workaholic, but soon discover is in a far more complex situation. Similarly, Brandon Flynn (Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why) first presents Jonah as a basic tech bro with little nuance, but reveals a darkness and desperation that instigates a major plot point — the handsome himbo is more than meets the eye, for better or for worse!

The political and ethical implications of rapidly growing AI technology — who it really serves, and at what cost — seem ripped from our very current headlines. Fascinatingly, Libby first developed Data as an NYU grad student in 2018, well before the AI boom changed the tech landscape. He edited and updated the script as AI grew and the tech industry’s entire culture changed at rapid pace. There’s a second incredibly timely political element to Data that I won’t spoil — you’ll know it when you hear it.

Data isn’t an easy watch. It’s alarming because it’s so real and of our time, even as a work of fiction that’s been in development for over seven years. It reminded me in some ways of the current Broadway production of Marjorie Prime, which confronts the ethics of AI from a different, equally pertinent angle. That play premiered in 2014 and feels even more relevant today, as if it saw the future. The future — or likely, the present — portrayed in Data is not a hopeful one. But not all plays should be. It is certainly well-acted, engaging, and smart, but it most effectively confronts important ethical issues that are sadly not theoretical. They’re here, and just as the play ends ambiguously, we can only hope the whistle is blown before it’s too late.

Playing through March 29 at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. Tickets at https://www.datatheplay.com/

by Robyn Roberts

The James Earl Jones Theatre in New York currently hosts Liberation, a compelling two-timeline story penned by the talented playwright, Bess Wohl, and brought vividly to life under the meticulous direction of Whitney White. This fresh production offers a thoughtful exploration of complex, intergenerational themes, enriched by captivating performances from lead actors Betsy Aidem, Audrey Corsa, Kayla Davion, Susannah Flood, and more fierce femmes with a few gents. With its blend of emotional depth and sharp dialogue, Liberation on Broadway invites us to reconsider notions of freedom, legacy, and connection in a modern world.

At its heart, Liberation unfolds as an intimate dialogue between women whose lives intersect in unexpected ways, beginning in 1970s Ohio. The story centers on a young, ambitious journalist named Lizzie, who starts a small “consciousness-raising” group, bringing local women together to discuss evolving their lives and the world for the better, by exploring themes of sisterhood, ambition, and societal constraints. Betsy Aidem is Margie, a woman grappling with the shadows of her past and the memories of societal upheaval she once witnessed. Enter Kayla Davion’s character, a younger woman searching for her own identity and a sense of liberation amid contemporary struggles. Their encounter sparks difficult conversations about history, trauma, and the fleeting nature of freedom. In the present day timeline, Lizzie’s daughter revisits her mother’s past, piecing together the history of the group and the choices her mother made, questioning the legacy and the true meaning of liberation.

Wohl’s writing deftly balances the personal and political, weaving moments of tenderness with biting honesty. The narrative does not rely on grand spectacle but thrives on the nuanced exchange of ideas and emotions between the characters, making the theatre space a crucible for reflection and empathy.

Director Whitney White’s vision shines throughout the production, creating a staging that feels both minimalistic and deeply resonant. The intimate setting of the James Earl Jones Theatre complements this approach, fostering a sense of immediacy and engagement that draws the audience directly into the emotional landscape of the story unfolding before you.

Betsy Aidem’s portrayal of Margie is a masterclass in subtlety, her performance conveying the weight of lived experience with a quiet strength that commands attention without overwhelming insistence. Kayla Davion as Joanne complements her character beautifully, infusing youthful urgency and vulnerability into the dynamic between the characters. The cast’s chemistry anchors the play’s themes and invites viewers to linger on the complexities of liberation itself—not just as a concept but as a lived reality.

For a contemporary audience, Liberation resonates on multiple levels. It challenges us to consider how personal histories are intertwined with broader social narratives and how the quest for freedom can take many forms, from political activism to the intimate act of personal truth-telling. Bess Wohl’s script, supported by excellent direction and acting, does not provide easy answers but opens a space for meaningful dialogue, which oftentimes lends more to the cause than a firm resolution ever could.

Moreover, the inclusion of powerful female leads emphasizes the voices that are even still, too often marginalized in mainstream theatre, adding crucial perspectives to ongoing cultural conversations.

Liberation is a testament to the power of theater to confront difficult themes with grace and emotional honesty, leaving audiences both moved and contemplative as they exit onto the ever colorful and always righteous New York City streets. Don’t miss Liberation on Broadway before it ends on February 1st. For tickets: https://liberationbway.com/

What happens to our memories, the wonderful and the terrible, after they fade? Will others we shared them with remember the glorious or painful details well enough for us, or must our memories simply die with us, never to be recalled or told again? Marjorie Prime on Broadway wastes no time, ahem, asking these very questions not only of the Oscar-worthy cast, but of the audience, too.

Written by Jordan Harrison and directed by Anne Kauffman, Marjorie Prime is a ninety-minute drama with the kind of slow-burn grief that only comes with that of dementia. The phenomenal June Squibb is Marjorie, the lead character at the center of the story. Sharp as a tack herself at a ripe young age of 96, Squibb’s “Marjorie” portrayal is a mighty one, as a grandmother with Alzheimer’s who playfully but purposefully pokes fun at the seriousness of losing one’s mind. Marjorie’s daughter, Tess, played by the righteous Cynthia Nixon with the kind of sincere conviction you can expect from her today, unsurprisingly finds nothing funny about her mother’s memory loss, which can only mean she’s in for a larger loss to follow.

Tess’s husband, Jon, played by stage and television star, Danny Burstein, is the loving and loyal glue that helps bind the sticky bonds of his wife and mother-in-law as they collectively brace for the next life chapter to come. And then there’s the gracious and most charming Christopher Lowell, who plays Walter, Marjorie’s sci-fi companion who is a hologram of her late husband. This is where the “Prime” comes in. We meet Walter as a young adult man sweetly rehashing fond memories of yore with a woman old enough to be his grandmother. But it’s not long before you realize that Walter is perhaps an AI companion whose only use is to keep the living entertained with past tales that are either tall or taut, depending entirely on who you ask. In Walter’s case, all his memories have been trained by Tess and therefore told with edited outcomes for her mother.

The story of Marjorie Prime on Broadway will be a familiar tale for so many who have slowly lost a loved one twice. Once when their memory of you fades but they are still physically here, and then a final time when they physically fade away entirely. But this isn’t solely another story of slow grief followed by inevitable loss. Marjorie Prime dares us all to ask ourselves how we remember our own stories and how we choose to tell them. Do we sterilize the bad stories with better outcomes? Because hey, if we don’t remember how it went anyway, why not simply retell it with a better narrative? And is it better for those who can’t recall their own memories to go ahead and bend their truth for them, to make a recollection worth reliving?

See Marjorie Prime at New York’s lovely Hayes Theater before it closes on February 15. And don’t forget to ask yourself how you’d prefer your best, and worst, memories told when you’re no longer around to tell them. Tickets at 2st.com/shows/marjorie-prime