1,412 stories from New York Magazine
Sipping soda with the bratty, poppy punkers as they prepare for their Broadway debut. It's like "Tommy falling down the stairs and running into Hedwig!"
Fans of fifties rock and roll tend to love it not just reasonably but feverishly, and with good reason: To listen to the recordings made by Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, and Carl Perkins at Sam Phillips's Sun Records is to hear the future being born, heralded by jangly guitars, the thump-thump of a stand-up bass, and a piano with the jittery nerves of a brand-new dad. Million Dollar Quartet, a show poised delicately at the halfway point between a musical and a revue, distills that revolutionary spirit and splashes it out as a dazzling, raucous spectacle.
The Addams Family foregoes sly mordancy in favor of strident mugging.
The Public's new alt-rock musical about Andrew Jackson mistakes a hipster-slacker viewpoint for actual, thoughtful irreverence.
High-energy performers, led by Tony Shalhoub, keep Lend Me a Tenor from losing its brio.
Dhalgren, Samuel R. Delany's loopy sci-fi masterpiece, lives to destroy again.
A mythological rock-and-roll moment becomes a Broadway show.
A theater critic and an art critic debate a play about Mark Rothko.
Come Fly Away, Twyla Tharp's Sinatra dance musical, waltzes right up to the edge of being Vegas schlock. But the supreme dancers, along with Frank, keep it sublime.
As Morticia Addams, Bebe Neuwirth is hoping for a perfect fit.
Kelsey Grammer is a fervent conservative, recovering cocaine addict, and paranormal enthusiast who just might run for office. (Politicians have had more baroque baggage.) But first he's play…
Michael Feinstein didn't stand a chance against Dame Edna. Stephen Sondheim doesn't do so well, either.
Looped gets glib laughs and kitsch value from Tallulah Bankhead's outsize life, and not much more.
