Burn This

C

It took me only a few minutes to realize that this was not a play that I could feel emotionally invested in. While I have very much enjoyed other plays by Lanford Wilson (Fifth of July, Talley’s Folly, Balm in Gilead), this one just did not speak to me. Mourning was a very real thing in the gay community in 1987 with AIDS taking a heavy toll. For a gay playwright to write a play with gay characters, dancers no less, and never even obliquely mention AIDS is puzzling. To choose a freak boating accident off Fire Island to kill off Robbie, the gay character his two roommates are mourning, seemed like a copout. Furthermore, the role of Larry, the surviving gay roommate, while excellently played by Brandon Uranowitz (Falsettos, An American in Paris), is a tired cliche — the neutered, wisecracking, loyal gay sidekick. Also, for an ad man to be living with two dancers seemed a stretch. Anna (Kerri Russell, Fat Pig, “The Americans”), an emotionally restrained dancer trying to make the transition to choreographer, was Robbie’s dance partner. Her boyfriend Burton (David Furr; Noises Off, The Explorers Club) is an entitled, stolid, wealthy screenwriter of sci-fi films who both craves and fears writing a love story. As the play opens, Anna has just returned from Robbie’s funeral, where his large working-class family assumed she was Robbie’s girlfriend. They did not know or would not admit Robbie was gay and had never even seen him dance. The long first scene with Anna, Larry and Burton has several dead spots. The play wakes up when Pale, Robbie’s older brother, bangs on the door in the middle of the night. Fueled by coke and liquor, Pale rants about urban life and any other topic that fleetingly crosses his mind. Manager of a New Jersey restaurant, he has a wife and two children in Coral Gables. His claim to closeness to his late brother seems undermined by the statement that Robbie was only seven when the 19-year-old Pale left home.  As played by Adam Driver (Man and Boy, Look Back in Anger, “Girls”), Pale is larger than life — a crude, vibrant force of nature who overcomes Anna’s initial revulsion by sheer animal attraction. The key scene when their relationship turns from shared mourning to lust did not convince me. Driver is indisputably impressive, but I found his version of Pale unmodulated and too prone to reach for laughs. As Anna, Kerri Russell is the one who is pale. In her defense, I think her part is underwritten. In any case, I did not find myself caring very much about these people. When my attention lagged, I enjoyed the beauty of Natasha Katz’s (The Prom, Hello Dolly!) changing lighting of the panorama of lower Manhattan seen through the loft’s huge windows at various times of the day. It is hard to imagine that Derek McLane’s (American Son, The Parisian Woman) huge loft ever existed at an affordable rent; it is probably a 7- or 8-figure condo today. Clint Ramos’s (Eclipsed, Once on This Island) costumes are very good at enhancing character. If there are hidden depths in the script, director Michael Mayer (Head Over Heels, Spring Awakening) did not find them. At two hours 40 minutes including intermission, it’s a long slog.

All My Sons

A

Roundabout Theatre Company’s revival of Arthur Miller’s first successful play is as fine a production of a Miller play as I ever hope to see. All the elements — casting, direction, scenic design, costumes, lighting, sound design and projections —are near perfect. Tracy Letts (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf), Annette Benning (Spoils of War, Coastal Disturbances) and Benjamin Walker (American Psycho, Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson) all give performances that I will not soon forget. Francesca Carpanini (The Little Foxes), Hampton Fluker (Too Heavy for Your Pocket) and Michael Hayden (Judgment at Nuremberg) are solid in feature roles, as are Jenni Barber (The Nance), Monte Greene, Nehal Joshi (School of Rock) and Chinasa Ogbuagu (Her Portmanteau, Sojourners) in supporting ones. Together they convincingly portray a close-knit community. Director Jack O’Brien (Carousel, The Hard Problem) uncovers a depth and breadth in the play that I had not found in previous productions. He also knits the various subplots together with uncommon skill. Douglas W. Schmidt’s (Into the Woods, The Front Page) set depicts an idyllic Midwestern yard and house facade. Jane Greenwood’s (She Loves Me, Major Barbara) costumes capture the period well. Jeff Sugg’s (Sweat, Bring It On) projections are used sparingly but effectively. Miller’s depiction of the dark side of the American Dream sadly remains as relevant now as it was in 1947. Today it may be a group of anonymous Boeing executives who are putting unsafe planes in the air instead of an individual parts supplier, but they are motivated by the same corrosive greed. Rarely have I been in an audience that was so totally involved. It is definitely one of the dramatic highlights of the season. Running time: two hours 20 minutes including an intermission and a brief pause.

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy

D

To launch the Griffin Theater, the 500-seat black-box in The Shed at Hudson Yards, Artistic Director Alex Poots has commissioned a theatrical piece by Canadian poet and classicist Anne Carson that conflates the stories of Helen of Troy and Marilyn Monroe. Ms. Carson calls it a melologue — a monologue that alternates speech and song. Actor Ben Whishaw (The Crucible) and singer Renée Fleming (Carousel) are the cast. The play opens on a large nondescript office at night. A nervous man arrives, unpacks his briefcase and posts some photos of Ms. Monroe on an easel. A radio informs us that it is New Year’s Eve 1963. The man is soon joined by a matronly woman who is apparently a stenographer. Why they are working at that hour on a holiday is the least of the play’s puzzles. The man begins to dictate a script, complete with punctuation. In his play, he follows Euripides’s version of Helen, in which only a cloud representing her actually goes to Troy. The man occasionally interrupts the loose narrative with chapters from a history of war, from which one take-away is “it’s a disaster to be a girl.” After remaining silent for roughly the first half-hour, the woman begins to sing fragments that often recapitulate the man’s remarks. Unfortunately Paul Clark’s score does not give Fleming’s luscious voice much chance to shine although there is an occasional vocal thrill. We encounter Truman Capote (as impersonated by Monroe), Pearl Bailey and Fritz Lang, among others. Husband Arthur Miller is referred to as the king of Sparta and New York. Persephone is also mentioned. As the story, such as it is, unfolds, the man paints his nails, applies false eyelashes, gradually strips to his underwear, puts on a bustier, high heels and finally a blonde wig and the famous dress from “The Seven Year Itch.” As he does so, he pops pills, drinks champagne and eventually curls up on a desk. All this might have been more interesting if it had been more visible. Alex Eales’s set, which Anthony Doran has lit by only a few desk lamps and an easel light, is so dark that one never really gets a good look at the actors. Early reports said that many audience members left during the play. I only saw two. One reason might be that the theater is so completely dark that it is dangerous to try to leave. I cannot comment on Katie Mitchell’s direction because I have no idea what the author was aiming for. As to Sussie Juhlin-Wallén’s costumes, I could barely see them. All in all, it was a dreary evening. Mr. Poots, who was artistic director of Park Avenue Armory, intends to make The Shed a home for adventurous commissioned works. I wish him well. Running time: 90 minutes, no intermission.

My Fair Lady (revisited)

A+

When Lincoln Center Theater offered members the chance to see My Fair Lady a second time at member prices, I jumped at the opportunity. In my review a year ago (https://gotham-playgoer.blogspot.com/2018/04/my-fair-lady.html), I said “It’s a near-perfect production of what many have called the perfect musical.” Since then, there have been several cast changes which, without exception, have improved the production. I can now say that the show is even nearer perfection than before. To no one’s surprise, Laura Benanti (She Loves Me, Gypsy) is superb as Eliza. Likewise, Rosemary Harris (A Delicate Balance, The Royal Family) makes a wonderful Mrs. Higgins. Danny Burstein (South Pacific, Follies) is a natural as Alfred P. Doolittle. Christian Dante White (Hello, Dolly, Shuffle Along…) not only has a fine voice, but also manages to breathe some life into the role of Freddy Eynsford-Hill. Lastly, Clarke Thorell (The Front Page, Annie) has eliminated the offensively effete portrayal of Zoltan Karpathy. Happily, Harry Hadden-Paton and Allan Corduner are back as Henry Higgins and Colonel Pickering, respectively, and have deepened their portrayals. Everything else is still there — the amazing set, the gorgeous costumes, the lively choreography, the large orchestra and, of course, the masterful score and book. I liked it even better the second time around. Running time: two hours 45 minutes including intermission.

The Pain of My Belligerence

B-

Halley Feiffer’s semi-autobiographical new play is perplexing for many reasons starting with its title and the tick-hugging woman in the artwork for its advertisements. Upon arriving at Playwrights Horizons, you are told that the programs will not be distributed until after the play. (In retrospect, this is a good idea because the play would lose some impact if you knew too much in advance.) Upon entering the theater, you are greeted by ominous insect buzzing. The long opening scene depicts the memorable first date between Cat (Feiffer), a budding late-20’s journalist and Guy (Hamish Linklater; The Busy World Is Hushed, Seminar), the arrogant, privileged, charming, sexy man who designed the restaurant where they are dining on Election Day 2012. Guy is the business partner and husband of Yuki and father of a young daugther, Anzu. The scene is outrageously funny with lots of physical humor and shaggy-dog stories in which the interruptions have interruptions. And so begins their toxic relationship. We next see them exactly four years later when the unwell Cat is lying in bed watching the 2016 election returns. We learn that Guy now has a second daughter, Olive, and that all is not going smoothly for the adulterous couple. Cat’s illness does not prevent them from indulging in some athletic sex. The final scene is set on Election Day 2020. I will say no more about it; don’t read the spoilers below if you want to be surprised. The two leads are terrific. As an actress, Feiffer (The Front Page, The House of Blue Leaves) is absolutely fearless. As a playwright (I'm Gonna Pray for You So Hard, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Gynecological Oncology Unit at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center of New York City), she is adept at creating characters with oversized emotions. It is a treat to see Linklater cast in a role so different from his usual stage persona. The production is greatly enhanced by Mark Wendland’s (Significant Other, Next to Normal)  elegantly simple set made primarily of wood slats. Paloma Young’s (Bandstand, Lobby Hero) costumes are apt. Director Trip Cullman (Lobby Hero, The Mother) allows the actors to dig deeply into their roles. Spoilers ahead. In the final scene, we meet Yuki  (a fine Vanessa Kai; KPOP) and Olive (Keira Belle Young) and learn that all has not been quite as it seemed. The attempt to tie the nature of Cat and Guy’s relationship to a malign patriarchy through the Election Day settings did not work for me. Cat’s physical decline, which touches on Feiffer’s own experience, provides a visible correlate of the relationship itself. It doesn’t add up to anything neat and simple, but it offers many absorbing moments along the way. While I remain perplexed, I was also entertained and glad to have had the chance to see two fine actors doing excellent work in an unconventional piece. Running time: 85 minutes; no intermission.

Hillary and Clinton

C

When Laurie Metcalf appeared in Lucas Hnath’s A Doll’s House, Part 2 two years ago, she won a Tony and the play became a commercial success. Therefore, producers probably thought it would be a great idea to produce this 2016 play by Hnath with Ms. Metcalf playing Hillary and, to beef up box office appeal, another Tony winner, John Lithgow (The Changing Room, Sweet Smell of Success), as Bill Clinton. The result is a mixed bag. The play, which first appeared during the 2016 primaries when Hillary looked like a sure thing, resonates differently today. Billed on the marquee as “primarily a comedy,” it does offer more than a few laughs over the goings-on in Hillary’s hotel room just before and after the 2008 New Hampshire primary. The play opens with a woman named Hillary philosophizing about the infinite number of universes where different incarnations of people obtain different results. This frame enables the playwright to mix fact, supposition and outright fiction to tell a tale that might have taken place in some universe. Spoilers ahead. When Barack (Peter Francis James; The Lady from Dubuque) tries to make a deal for her to quit the race and join him as vice-president on the ticket, her campaign manager Mark (Zak Orth; Major Barbara, subUrbia) advises her to refuse. Against Mark’s advice, Hillary calls her husband, who had been banished from the campaign, and asks him to come to New Hampshire. When he arrives, they bicker over all the accumulated grievances in their marriage and the rivalry of their competing ambitions. Bill’s presence in New Hampshire affects the outcome and upsets her secret deal with Barack, who then cautions them about the threat of damaging information emerging about their charitable fundraising. That’s about it in a nutshell. I guess celebrities lose the right to protect their privacy, but I couldn’t see any value in Hnath presenting a fantasy version of events. The actors make no effort to imitate their real-life models, which is probably a plus. Director Joe Mantello (Three Tall Women, The Humans) keeps things moving briskly. The set by Chloe Lamford (1984) is downright ugly — a gray cube that slides forward and lights up along the edges. The only props are an office chair and leftover food debris on the floor. The costumes by Rita Ryack (Casa Valentina) emphasize the ordinariness of daily life when the world is not watching. As one would expect, both Ms. Metcalf and Mr. Lithgow are a pleasure to watch. Nevertheless, there seemed to be little point to the enterprise. Running time: 85 minutes; no intermission.

Kiss Me, Kate!

B+

Kelli O’Hara (The King and I, South Pacific) reaffirms her status as the reigning queen of the American musical with her wonderful performance in the dual roles of Lilli Vanessi and Katharine in Roundabout’s delightful revival of Cole Porter’s (Anything Goes, Gay Divorce) 1948 classic. Her gorgeous voice comes as no surprise — to hear her version of “So in Love” is bliss— but her skill at slapstick comedy was unexpected. As Fred Graham and Petruchio, Will Chase (Something Rotten!, High Fidelity) makes an excellent partner for her. Corbin Bleu (Holiday Inn), as Bill Calhoun/Lucentio, impresses with a fine voice and fleet feet. Stephanie Styles (Kingdom Come) makes an auspicious Broadway debut as Lois Lane/Bianca. Regarding the rest of the cast, nontraditional casting has resulted in a diversity that is rare for Broadway. Warren Carlyle’s (Hello, Dolly!, She Loves Me) energetic, sexy choreography is a major attraction. Under Paul Gemigniani’s musical direction, the classic Porter score sounds great. David Rockwell’s (Lobby Hero, She Loves Me) scenic design includes a realistic three-level backstage set with matching dressing rooms that roll in as well as more fanciful backdrops and an amusing curtain for “Taming of the Shrew.” The colorful costumes by Jeff Mahshie (She Loves Me, Next to Normal) are a delight. Scott Ellis (She Loves Me, Twentieth Century) once again shows a flair for directing a musical revival. The tweaks to Sam and Bella Spewack’s (Leave It to Me, Boy Meets Girl) book may make it more palatable for today’s sensibility, but it remains old-fashioned and clunky even by 1948 standards. However, with its gorgeous score and a splendid production, it is easy to overlook the shortcomings of the book. Running time: two hours 30 minutes including intermission.

Ink

A-

Manhattan Theatre Club is presenting the American premiere of James Graham’s (Privacy, This House) London hit with an all-new cast except for Olivier winner Bertie Carvel (Matilda: The Musical) as Rupert Murdoch. When I looked it up, I was surprised to learn that his award was for Best Supporting Actor. I had wrongly assumed that the role of Murdoch would be the lead. After seeing the play, I now understand that the play is less about Murdoch than I expected and more about the team that led The Sun in the year after Murdoch’s purchase in 1969. The role of Larry Lamb (Jonny Lee Miller; After Miss Juile, Frankenstein), the editor Murdoch hired, is at least as prominent as Murdoch’s. The first act is a worthy successor to The Front Page as a love letter to the lost heyday of newspaper publishing. The amazing set by Bunny Christie (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time) features dozens of metal desks piled high and a curved back wall made of rolls of newsprint on which images are projected. The center of the stage is a smallish platform that rises from below with different settings. A tour for a new apprentice shows us the arduous process of setting and printing the paper. I wondered why there was a piano at the side of stage. I got my answer midway through the first act. As Lamb assembles his staff, the cast suddenly bursts into song and dance. The segment works so well that I found myself wishing that the creators had gone all the way and written a musical. The second act traces the newspaper’s first year and the increasingly dubious strategies Lamb pursues to fulfill his faustian promise to Murdoch to overtake The Mirror in sales. He jeopardizes the life of someone close to the paper and finally introduces a titillating Page 3. The excellent ensemble includes David Wilson Barnes, Bill Buell (Bad Habits), Andrew Durand (Head Over Heels), Eden Marryshow, Colin McPhillamy (The Ferryman), Erin Neufer (Nathan the Wise), Kevin Pariseau (The Explorers Club), Rana Roy, Michael Siberry (Junk, Six Degrees of Separation), Robert Stanton (Fuddy Mears, All in the Timing) and Tara Summers (The Hard Problem). Jonny Lee Miller (who did not appear in London) is a serious rival for Carvel at Tony time. Director Rupert Goold (King Charles III) masterfully keeps everything moving along smoothly. The play is a highly theatrical and quite entertaining work. What it is not is a deep exploration of Murdoch and his agenda. Running time: two hours 45 minutes including intermission.

Socrates

C+

Playwright Tim Blake Nelson (The Grey Zone, Eye of God) is to be admired for attempting to present the Big Three of Greek philosophy as living, breathing, contentious human beings rather than ideas on a page. In a framing device, we first encounter Plato (Teagle F. Bougere; The Crucible; Is God Is) and a boy (Niall Cunningham; TV: “Life in Pieces”), clearly Aristotle, who have just met and are considering whether to begin an ongoing teacher/student relationship. To answer the young man’s question of why he should want to study in the city that killed Socrates, Plato gives an account of the circumstances that led to that outcome. That account, which enlists a cast of fifteen men and one woman, forms the remainder of the play. Nelson cleverly incorporates portions of the Dialogues into the script and uses Socratic method to illustrate how Socrates’s relentless questioning could be as annoying as it was instructive. The play’s strongest suit is Michael Stuhlbarg (The Pillowman, Voysey Inheritance) in the title role; the opportunity to see him in action is reason enough to attend. He is supported by a fine cast that includes David Aaron Baker (Why Torture Is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them) as Anytus, Robert Joy (Girl from the North Country, Side Show) as Crito as well as Meletus the Elder, and Austin Smith (How To Transcend a Happy Marriage) as Alcibiades and Simmius. Director Doug Hughes (Junk, The City of Conversation) skillfully manages the large ensemble. While several scenes are quite effective, others are repetitious and run on too long. I could have done with less shouting too. Xanthippe’s (Miriam A. Hyman; Richard III) extended monologue before her husband’s death is powerful. The death scene itself is excruciatingly lengthy; clearly Nelson does not subscribe to the idea that less is more. The somber set design by Scott Pask (The Book of Mormon, The Band’s Visit) fills the walls of the stage and the auditorium with inscriptions in Greek. The onstage inscribed panels occasionally open to reveal another setting beneath. Catherine Zuber’s (My Fair Lady, The King and I) costumes accurately reflect the period. In my opinion, the first act is greatly in need of a trim. I found my mind wandering and checked my watch more than once. Except for the seemingly endless death scene, the second act was tighter. The occasional attempts to show the play’s relevance to our current situation seemed a bit clumsy. I was grateful for the opportunity to see a play with a serious theme starring a marvelous actor, but I thought it offered too much of a good thing. Running time: three hours including intermission.

Mrs. Murray's Menagerie

C+

For the first production at their new second home at Greenwich House, Ars Nova has selected this piece, created and performed by The Mad Ones, the five-person theater collective “dedicated to creating visceral, ensemble-driven, highly detailed theatrical experiences that examine and illuminate American nostalgia.” Banality and group dynamics seem to be hallmarks of their work. Last year’s Miles for Mary traced the changing relationships among a group of teachers as revealed at a series of faculty meetings over the course of a year in the late 1980’s, culminating in a memorable meltdown. The current play, set a decade earlier, traces the dynamics among a group of parents in a focus group about the children’s television show that gives the play its title. The show is about Mrs. Murray, played by an African-American woman, a singer who lives with a bunch of animal puppets. As its final season begins, the producers are looking for parental input to decide between two possible spinoffs. The session is led by the unctuous Dale (Brad Heberlee), assisted by his hapless assistant Jim (Marc Bovino) who struggles to write down on a blackboard all the participants’ responses. The six parents are Ernest (Phillip James Brannon), a bookstore owner; Roger (Joe Curnutte), a salesman who oozes male privilege; Wayne (Michael Dalto), an easy-going tool and die worker; June (Carmen M. Herlihy), affluent and a bit stolid; Celeste, who prefers to be called Cici (January LaVoy), cool and confident; and Gloria (Stephanie Wright Thompson), poor and insecure. Ernest and Cici are black. As they answer inane questions about the show, the six subtly reveal differences of class, race, gender and temperament. The actors are uniformly excellent. The period costumes by Asta Bennie Hostetter and wigs and makeup by Alfreda “Fre” Howard are marvelous. The community room set by You-Shin Chen and Laura Jellinek is aptly dreary. Lila Neugebauer once again demonstrates her skill directing an ensemble cast. Unfortunately the play has more valleys than peaks and offers little in the way of catharsis. Such restraint may be admirable, but subtlety does not always lead to compelling theater. I thought it was a step backwards from Miles for Mary. Running time: 90 minutes; no intermission.

Gary: A Sequel to Titus Andronicus

D

The amount of talent behind this new Broadway comedy is almost breathtaking. Playwright Taylor Mac (Hir) is a MacArthur Fellow and Pulitzer finalist. The stars are multiple Tony winner Nathan Lane (Angels in America, The Producers) , Tony nominee Kristine Nielsen (Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike) and Tony winner Julie White (The Little Dog Laughed). The director George C. Wolfe (Angels in America), set designer Santo Loquasto (Cafe Crown) and costume designer Ann Roth (The Nance) are all Tony winners. The original music is by Grammy and Emmy winner Danny Elfman and the movement consultant is Bill Irwin (Old Hats). With this array of talent, what could possibly go wrong? Just about everything, as it turns out. The script is a lumpy mixture of jokes about farts, bodily fluids and corpses, rhymed couplets, nods to sociopolitical significance and a ballet for oversized synchronized prosthetic penises. The title character is a former clown who aspires to be a fool. He and Janice (Nielsen) are charged with the Herculean task of cleaning the banquet hall piled high with corpses from the final scene of Titus Andronicus in time for the new emperor’s inauguration. (Some familiarity with Shakespeare’s tragedy is helpful but not really essential.) This involves pumping out the gas and bodily fluids from the corpses, a task played for laughs. The two cleaners are soon joined by Carol, the court nurse who emerges from the pile of corpses, erroneously thought to be dead. Carol is racked by guilt for not preventing the murder of the infant in her care. Gary and Janice philosophize about how the little people have to clean up after their leaders’ dirty deeds. Gary and Janice decide to put on a show, a production number that briefly enlivens the proceedings. The role of Gary does not show Lane to best advantage. The ever-watchable Nielsen is fine, but, surprisingly, it is White who steals the show. While I had heard reports that many people walked out of early previews, I did not see anyone leave. On the contrary, most of the people around me seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. At the risk of being branded a Philistine, I must confess that I have thus far been unable to acquire a taste for Taylor Mac. Running time: 95 minutes, no intermission.

Hadestown (Broadway)

A-

Anaïs Mitchell's marvelous folk opera about Orpheus and Eurydice has had a long road to Broadway. What began as a simple stage version in 2006 in Vermont evolved into a concept album in 2010 that won many admirers. Not long after that, Rachel Chavkin came aboard to develop and eventually direct a new stage version for New York Theatre Workshop in 2016 that won wide acclaim, including from me. (See https://gotham-playgoer.blogspot.com/2016/05/hadestown.html) The intimacy of that production with the audience surrounding the performers on three sides made a Broadway transfer challenging, but there was probably no one better equipped to meet that challenge than Ms. Chavkin who had solved a similar problem with Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812. After the off-Broadway run, the show moved out of town — way out of town — to Edmonton, Alberta for further work and then, in a smart move, to London’s National Theatre. Now it has finally reached the Walter Kerr Theatre. I was eager to experience the show again and see how it had been adapted for a large proscenium stage. Fortunately, most of the creative team has remained intact. What has been lost in intimacy has been counterbalanced by enhanced production values. The elaborate set by Rachel Hauck (What the Constitution Means to Me, Tiny Beautiful Things), which suggests a New Orleans bar, comes complete with walls that expand and contract and three concentric revolves, the innermost of which both rises and falls. The costumes by Michael Krass (Noises Off, Machinal) vaguely suggesting an earlier time, are more elaborate. The stylized choreography by David Neumann (An Octoroon) has been pumped up. Happily the two cast members who most impressed me before, Peter Page (Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark, Casa Valentina) as Hades and Amber Gray (Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812; Oklahoma! at Bard) as Persephone, are back. Eva Noblezada (Miss Saigon) portrays Eurydice as both feisty and wearied by deprivation. The role of Hermes, our narrator and emcee, has been beefed up for Andre De Shields (The Wiz, Ain’t Misbehavin’) who stops just short of chewing the scenery. The three Fates (Jewelle Blackman, Yvette Gonzalez-Nacer, Kay Trinidad) are fine in full Andrews Sisters mode and occasionally even play instruments. The workers chorus is also excellent. The seven onstage musicians are splendid, especially trombonist Brian Drye. If you have been paying close attention, you may have noticed that I have not said anything yet about Orpheus. Alas, Reeve Carney (Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark, “Penny Dreadful”), whom I have admired elsewhere, is miscast as Orpheus. Much of the role requires singing falsetto and his falsetto is far from pretty. Furthermore, he does not display much charisma and there is little chemistry between him and Ms. Noblezada. You might think that a miscast lead would be a near-fatal flaw, but the rest of the show is so strong and so enjoyable that it is little more than a lost opportunity of minor consequence. While there are aspects of the plot, such as the nature of Hadestown as an industrial dystopia of indentured workers, that remain a bit murky, the plot is not the big draw. The score, with its New Orleans jazz, gospel and blues accents, is the main attraction. Those expecting a traditional Broadway show (like the couple next to me who fled at intermission) may be disappointed, because it is at heart a through-sung folk opera. The rest of us will be grateful for the opportunity to enjoy something different. Ms. Mitchell must be prescient: a song she wrote at least ten years ago, “Why We Build the Wall,” has taken on new resonance these days. Running time: two hours 25 minutes including intermission.