Gloria ****

No one can accuse Obie winner Branden Jacobs-Jenkins (Appropriate, An Octoroon) of repeating himself. Each of his three plays that I have seen creates its own world completely unlike that of the other two. His latest play, now at Vineyard Theatre, draws upon his experience working at the New Yorker for a few years. For the first 45 minutes, the play seems to be a witty workplace satire about assistants at a prestigious magazine. Then the mood abruptly shifts, to put it mildly. To say more would spoil your experience. The remainder of the play depicts the effects of a life-changing event on some of the people who experienced it and raises this question: when something newsworthy happens, who “owns” the story? The playwright also paints an unflattering picture of today's media scene in which stories become mere fodder for the ravenous film/television/social media/publishing beast. In Act One we meet three editorial assistants — Dean (Ryan Spahn), Ani (Catherine Combs) and Kendra (Jennifer Kim); Miles (Kyle Beltran, who made such a strong impression in Fortress of Solitude), a college intern; Lorin (Michael Crane), a somewhat older fact checker; and the title character (Jeanine Serralles, recently in Verite), a socially awkward longtime employee from another department. Each character is vividly sketched and the dialogue rings true. The first act is literally a tough act to follow. In the second act, all the actors except Crane play one or more new characters. The excellent cast is adept at changing roles. One of the play’s strengths is that, at any given moment, I had no idea where it was heading. The scenic design by Takeshi Kata captures the sterility of the modern cubicled office. The costumes by Ilona Somogyi are unobtrusively apt. Evan Cabnet’s direction is rock solid. In case there was any doubt, Jacobs-Jenkins demonstrates that he belongs in the first rank of contemporary American iplaywrights. Running time: 2 hours including intermission.

Satchmo at the Waldorf ****

John Douglas Thompson gives an absolutely mesmerizing performance as Louis Armstrong in this one-person play by Wall Street Journal theater critic Terry Teachout, now at the Westside Theater upstairs. In his dressing room at the Waldorf just a few months before his death, Armstrong reflects on the highs and lows of his long career. His success has been blemished by the disappearance of his black audience and unfair branding by younger black musicians like Miles Davis as an Uncle Tom. He is especially troubled by the unhappy outcome of his long and seemingly friendly relationship with his manager Joe Glaser. As if playing a convincing Armstrong were not enough, Thompson also portrays both Glaser and Davis. Lee Savage's clever set design and Kevin Adams's lighting make the transitions between characters crystal clear. Ilona Somogyi's costumes are appropriate. Gordon Edelstein's direction is assuredly smooth. I have a few quibbles: the opening scene seemed unnecessarily crude, there is very little music, and there are a few lumpy spots in the script. Nevertheless, Thompson's dazzling performance conquers all and makes this a memorable experience. Running time: 95 minutes, no intermission.

The Lying Lesson *

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The publicity for Craig Lucas's new play at the Atlantic Theater bills it as a "comic thriller." Alas, it is neither amusing nor thrilling. This strange two-character play imagines an 1981 episode in which Bette Davis, in her early 70's, returns to a coastal Maine town where she had summered in her teens to buy a house and rekindle her acquaintance with her former heartthrob. Shortly after her arrival, she meets a young local woman who attempts to make herself indispensable. Carol Kane looks amazingly like Davis, especially in Ilona Somogyi's great costumes, but, when she opens her mouth, the illusion is shattered. I am sure there are still bars in Manhattan where any patron picked at random can do a more convincing Bette Davis. Mickey Sumner, lean and lanky, is convincing as the mysterious young woman, except when her down-East accent slips. The plot, such as it is, revolves around discovering her identity and motivation. Neil Patel seems off his stride with a set in drab shades of beige. Even director Pam MacKinnon, who did so well with "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" and "Clybourne Park,"can't make a silk purse out of this. Running time: two hours, ten minutes including intermission.

My Name Is Asher Lev ***

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Aaron Posner's adaptation of Chaim Potok's novel about a young Hasid in 1950's Brooklyn who is driven to become an artist despite the conflicts it will create with his family and his community is both intellectually and emotionally satisfying. The title character ages roughly 15 years the course of the play from childhood to young adulthood. Ari Brand, through quiet intensity,  mostly meets the challenge of portraying several ages convincingly. Mark Nelson skillfully creates the roles of his father, his mentor and the rebbe with equal impact. Jenny Bacon is fine as his long-suffering mother, a gallery owner and a model. Eugene Lee's dark wooden set serves well as the Levs' apartment and an art studio. Ilona Somogyi's costumes and David Bova's wigs effectively delineate the characters. Gordon Edelstein's direction hits the right notes. The script's use of narration is greater than I would have preferred, but that did not significantly diminish my enjoyment. Running time: 90 minutes without intermission.

Regrets **

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I was surprised to learn that Matt Charman, the author of this period drama about the inhabitants of a divorce ranch for men in Nevada in 1954, is British. It's hardly an obvious topic for a contemporary playwright, especially one from across the pond. Charman succeeds in setting up an interesting situation, when a mysterious young arrival, Caleb Farley (Ansel Elgort),  disturbs the equilibrium of the three current residents -- Alvin Novotny (Richard Topol), Gerald Driscoll (Lucas Caleb Rooney) and Ben Clancy (Brian Hutchinson). Adriane Lenox is fine as Mrs. Duke, the scrappy black owner of the ranch. Alexis Bledel is less convinicing as a kind-hearted young prostitute who visits the ranch, but the role is poorly written. The arrival of Robert Hanraty (Curt Bouril), an investigator from the House Unamerican Activities Committee sets the plot in motion. Unfortunately, the second act runs downhill and fails to fulfill the play's early promise. The set by Rachel Hauck, the costumes by Ilona Somogyi and the direction by Carolyn Cantor are all effective. The results are sufficiently interesting that I had no regrets about seeing it. It was certainly the best of the three new plays that Manhattan Theatre Club has offered at City Center this season. Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes.