137 stories from daily.nysun.com
Styles change, fashions come and go, but writers find one subject eternally fascinating: writers.
Somewhere amid the gaudy, billowing folds of “The Frogs” lurks a slim, smart comedy waiting to hop out.
New York's critics speak out on Simon McBurney.
If it had a roof, this show would be in trouble.
For all its loveliness and fine-tuned craft, the trouble with Mr. Fomenko's "War and Peace" is that he has staged "War and Peace."
"Assassins" in limbo, Queen in Las Vegas--hip-hop on the way?
Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa writes the Marvel comic "The Fantastic Four", which already establishes him as one of the cooler playwrights in town.
"Hairspray" is candy, but it's good candy. Plus a peek at Broadway's engine room, and Cole Porter's bad singing.
In the old days, back when “wimp factor” was a charge the world flung at President Bush, and not the other way around, there was a sketch comedy team called Kathy & Mo.
"Thoroughly Modern Millie" ends its run on Sunday, but Sutton Foster won't be there to see it.
Undine is undone--or is she?
Moliere comes to Brooklyn, Nathan Detroit goes to Jersey.
At last, summer is here: The time when a theater critic's thoughts turn lightly to, well, everything but theater.
Director/choreographer Kathleen Marshall on Fosse's footsteps, big brother Rob, and her two Tony nominations.
For a star, Bebe Neuwirth makes what can only be called a stealth entrance.
If the show's combination of personal and political had worked, everybody would praise Mr. Baitz for fusing Pinter and Stoppard. The reality is more like the two of them having a pillow figh…
"Love's young dream" in a new revival of "Sight Unseen".
If you're the sort of person who regards having to speak in public as the most fiendish torture imaginable, Linda Emond will strike you as either (a) very brave or (b) utterly mad.
Two long, long plays at the end of a long, long season. Two audiences coughing, fussing, and fidgeting. Two nights, all things considered, better spent watching baseball.
Light Raise the Roof and Boy.
In "A Streetcar Named Desire", Patricia Clarkson reminds you that marble has veins; plus a first look at Loesser's last.
Dazzling are the paradoxes of "Homebody/Kabul".
There must have been highlights to this season, right?
Private First Class Jose Solo is freaking out, and Mayor Bloomberg isn't helping.
Neil LaBute's new metaphor for suburban ennui, Kristin Chenoweth's new method of crowd control.
For lack of anything better to do, I imagined what I would make of "Prymate" if, like some of the characters, I could only see the action, and not understand the words. Also "Frozen" and "An…
