Seen and heard here, Donizetti’s late work was stronger on vocal power than bel canto nuance.
University administrator and teacher by day, theater and arts critic by night.
The electric current that needs to run through Sam Shepard’s great play is curiously low-voltage here.
At 48th and Baltimore, a performance worthy of a Tony, and an enchanting show.
Pretty is its own reward, but it has its limits. This recital showed both.
Director Eric Tucker’s production seems like an exercise in “épater la bourgeoisie” smart ass-ness.
I’ve heard starrier performances, but none that made a more powerful case for this masterwork.
Days later, I’m playing over scenes in my mind—loving some, scratching my head over others.
Politics and culture here are ultimately filler, suggesting but not delivering dramatic weight.
Already a byword for spectacular failure, David and Cameron find the movie of CATS even worse than expected.
This musical is as manicured as the kind of Stepfordian society the material supposedly rails against.