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The playwright behind “Ohio State Murders,” opening this month, has a theory as to why: “It’s because I’m a Black woman.”
Citizens: Vote Nina Arianda!
Benjamin Walker could have been a Hollywood superhero. Instead, he's at the Jacobs Theatre, rocking the man on the $20 bill.
Van Hove has no interest in subtlety, but neither did Hellman, really, so the match is a good one, even when the show’s super-text starts to bray a bit.
Downtown, two icons of the sexual revolution are reliving their glory days.
David Mamet's play is performed, word perfect, by Patrick Stewart and T.R. Knight. And that's the problem.
Not lucid enough to be middlebrow, even, but definitely muddled-brow. It’s to Warchus’s infinite credit that he can spin straw into gold.
It's damned hard to resist deploying a "Blade Re-Runner" pun
The actors push and push, trying to get some momentum, but Cho, in trying to write a timeless fable, has instead created a paceless half-play.
So I’m at Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson last night, and in the row ahead of me, a long-haired gentleman (wearing what I believe was an “I’m Andrew $%#@ing Jackson” T-s…
I woke up this morning thinking fondly of Alec Baldwin. As I often do. (This and so many other things set me apart from Kim Basinger and Roger Ailes.)
The play belongs on a pageant wagon parked outside Lambeau Field; its presence on Broadway is, to adopt the parlance, a real ball-scratcher.
Mark Rylance's goofy set of fake choppers in 'La Bête' are not alone on Broadway, and off.
Watching director David Bjornson’s rickety read-through of a revival, I found Gaines’s performance to be the only indispensable one onstage — the lone breathing human up th…
If Baz Lurhmann and Laurie Anderson got stoned listening to late-night college-radio electro-pop, Persephone is what they’d hallucinate. And whether or not you’ll dig it depends …
A lusty, lumpy, lovably imperfect remount.
The Globe Theatre's Merry Wives of Windsor is a kind of juice cleanse for the theatrically besotted, overdosed, and/or toxified.
Kander and Ebb's final collaboration, which turns a civil-rights parable into a minstrel show, is, on its own discomfiting terms, utterly successful.
Will Eno's 'Middletown' isn't a play, it's a place. And there's nothing there.
With one breathtaking, breakneck 30-minute monologue, he steals the season.
The most startling thing about Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown — the ambitious, addled, oddly enervated new musical from composer-lyricist David Yazbek (Dirty Rotten Scoundre…
Is this the future of Off Broadway? Fun-size versions of Great White megahits?
In Long Story Short, Quinn skims thousands of year with an autodidact's stentorian emphasis and a drinking buddy's beer-breath bonhomie.
When a man eats a lightbulb for your wincing pleasure, you'll follow him anywhere.