Othello (New York Theatre Workshop)

By Harry Forbes

David Oyelowo and Daniel Craig deliver predictably riveting performances in Sam Gold’s “Hurt Locker”-flavored production.

The NYTW space has been transformed with plywood floors, walls, and bleachers all around with the soldiers’ barrack mattresses forming Andrew Lieberman’s principal set. Nicholas Hytner also utilized, at least partially, an updated military background for his brilliant 2013 National Theatre revival with its equally tremendous performances by Adrian Lester and Rory Kinnear, but on a large stage, there was room for more visual variety.

Much of the present production, though, is played in semi-darkness, and portions, such as the play’s opening minutes, are in total darkness as the play’s argument (i.e. Iago’s resentment of Othello) is laid out, a gimmick that wears a little thin. Elsewhere, in Jane Cox’s lighting design, the house lights are up.

Gold seems to linger over the early scenes of Desdemona’s elopement with the Moor, while her father, Brabantio (Glenn Fitzgerald) warns Othello that she might someday betray him too, which, of course, sets the stage for what is to come.

Oyelowo is simply sensational as his jealously, implanted so skillfully by Craig’s steely-eyed Iago, grips him totally. And his subsequent killing of Desdemona is as horrifying as any I’ve seen.

Much as Shakespeare delights in the protracted revelations in his comedies, here the Bard relishes the revelation of Iago’s villainy and Emilia’s accusations of the Moor and defense of his slaughtered bride. Marsha Stephanie Blake as Emilia really shines in these scenes, as she spews forth her righteous indignation.

As Desdemona, Rachel Brosnahan is no passive innocent but a feisty lady fully at home in the soldiers’ camp, though more than ever, one gets the sense she ought to be able to defend her accuser more persuasively.

Accents vary from Oyelowo’s African cadence to Craig’s British articulation to the mostly Yankee accents elsewhere, including Fitzgerald, Matthew Maher’s lisping lovelorn Rodrigo, Finn Wittrock’s undone Cassio, Nikki Massoud’s Bianca, and David Wilson Barnes’ Duke and Lodovico. Still, all the performances are intelligent, and well serve Gold’s vision. The play’s poetry, however, is best served by Oyelowo.

The production is over three hours, and I can’t say it entirely flies by, especially while sitting on the tightly packed bleachers, but it’s never less than absorbing, particularly when the action escalates in the second half.

(New York Theatre Workshop, 79 E. 4th Street; www.nytw.org; through January 18, 2017)

Photo: Joan Marcus

Sweet Charity (The New Group)

By Harry Forbes

As you may have heard, this is not your grandmother’s “Sweet Charity.” Which is to say it’s not Bob Fosse’s “Sweet Charity,” but rather a refreshingly revisionist production about the dance hall hostess with the heart of gold vainly searching for love.

The Cy Coleman-Dorothy Fields musical gave the legendary Gwen Verdon her last significant stage role, and she received accolades for her touching and charismatic turn. Fosse directed the subsequent screen adaptation with Shirley MacLaine competently assuming the title role of Charity Hope Valentine (the name says it all), though she was judged not quite in the same league as Verdon.

On this occasion, we have the super talented Sutton Foster directed by Leigh Silverman who guided Foster through her paces in the fine 2014 Roundabout revival of Jeanine Tesori’s ‘Violet.”

If you’re willing to accept a new somewhat darker vision, you’ll be richly rewarded by this revival.

Arguably the most off-putting aspect is Charity’s appearance on this occasion: a blond Raggedy Ann mop of hair, a mini-dress, and short white boots. In some respects, though, her wig recalls the great Giulietta Masina’s appearance in Fellini’s “Nights of Cabiria,” the source of the musical as adapted by Neil Simon, though the Charity character was a full-out street walker in that one.

Yet again, the great Foster has reinvented herself. There’s hardly a trace of her Liza role on her hit series “Younger,” nor any of her recent stage parts for that matter, including her sexy turn in Encores’ “The Wild Party.”

Simon’s text has been slightly adapted, and there’s been some re-ordering of the songs (“Where Am I Going?” now poignantly coming at the end) – intelligent changes all, which fit Silverman's contemporary vision – and Charity seems rather more aggressive than previously. And yet, she still manages to be an endearing innocent, and Foster, fine actress that she is, never makes a false move right up to the heartbreaking final moments. Her dancing to Joshua Bergasse’s newly minted choreography is also terrific.

Stocky Shuler Hensley cuts quite a different figure than the usual nebbishy Oscars, but his playing of the phobic accountant is superb, and his claustrophobic elevator scene is masterfully done. His vocal moments (“I’m the Bravest Individual” and “Sweet Charity”) are highpoints, thanks to his rich baritone. Also superb is Joel Perez who plays multiple major roles, including Italian heartthrob Vittorio Vidal, club manager Herman, and downtown evangelist Daddy Brubeck. His “Too Many Tomorrows,” “The Rhythm of Life,” and “I Love to Cry at Weddings” are wondrously differentiated.

As Charity’s girlfriends and cohorts in the Fandango Ballroom, Asmeret Ghebremichael and Emily Padgett are excellent, if perhaps a tad less maternal towards Charity than usually played. They join Foster for “There’s Gotta Be Something Better Than This,” and harmonize most winningly in “Baby, Dream Your Dream.”

Mary-Mitchell Campbell’s reduced orchestrations, as played by the all-girl band led by Georgia Stittt, almost make you forget the brassy originals.

Derek McLane’s economic but clever settings, Clint Ramos’ sharp costumes, and Jeff Croiter’s astute lighting contribute mightily to the production’s successful facelift.

The audience gave my performance a wildly enthusiastic ovation at the end. I hope the production can find a longer life after its limited run here.

(The New Group, The Pershing Square Signature Center, 480 W. 42nd St.; (212) 279-4200 or www.thenewgroup.org; through January 8)

Photo Credit: Monique Carboni

The Babylon Line (Lincoln Center Theater)

By Harry Forbes

Yes, the title refers to the Babylon line of the Long Island Railroad, not ancient Mesopotamia, in case you were wondering. 

Richard Greenberg’s latest is an uneven but generally entertaining comedy-drama set in 1967 about a creative writing teacher (Josh Radnor) – with only one story of his own published – who commutes from Greenwich Village to Levittown adult education class. 

His motley pupils include three clueless housewives (Randy Graff, Julie Halston, and Maddie Corman), a phobic outsider (Elizabeth Reaser) who hasn’t left her home in years till now, a quiet young man rumored to be mentally damaged by drugs, and a World War II veteran (Frank Wood).

Aaron tries vainly to get his students to bring in writing samples, but resistance is strong. As they gradually open up, their idiosyncrasies and lives are revealed, and in some cases, their imaginations unlocked. Reaser’s character is the first to come up with something, her prose wildly at odds with her seemingly mousy persona, and her fellow pupils are utterly astonished at what they hear.

Reaser especially shines as a would-be seduction scene on a snowy night when she tries to persuade Aaron that as he probably won’t be able to get home, she can instead drive him to a local motel.

Graff, Halston and Corman make a masterful, on the whole, funny bunch, and all have their pearly moments, while Graff doesn’t sugarcoat her character’s ugly intolerance of anything outside her cookie-cutter existence.

Richard Hoover’ sets, Sarah J. Holden’s costumes, David Weiner’s lighting, and Rob Milburn & Michael Bodeen’s sound design are all first rate, though the elderly lady next to me opined that the women onstage were dressed far better than Levittown ladies of the 1960s would ever have been. The play was originally produced by New York Stage and Film & Vassar’s Powerhouse Theater in 2014.

Terry Kinney directs with empathy for the material and elicits sharp characterizations from his cast.

 (Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater, 150 West 65th Street, Lincoln Center; 800-432-7250 or lincolncenter.org; through January 22)

Photo: Jeremy Daniel

A Bronx Tale (Longacre Theatre)

By Harry Forbes

Actor Chazz Palminteri’s durable autobiographical tale, originally a one-man show in 1989 (revived in 2007), then a 1993 film starring Palminteri and the present production’s co-director Robert De Niro (who also directed the film), is back as a full-out musical, and it’s a very good one indeed.

With a solid, doo-wop infused score by Alan Menken (lyrics by Glenn Slater), and a book by Palminteri (of course), the property works brilliantly all over again.

It tells the tale of young Calogero (Hudson Loverro, then as a teenager, Bobby Conte Thornton) who witnesses a mob killing by neighborhood tough guy Sonny (Nick Cordero), but keeps mum about it, thereafter forming an unlikely bond with the gangster (who takes a warmly paternal interest in the boy), much to the consternation of his hard-working, bus driver father (Richard H. Blake in De Niro’s film role) who tries, unsuccessfully, to discourage the alliance. When Calogero falls for an African-American classmate (Ariana Debose), ugly racial tensions erupt and Calogero finally gains the perspective for which his father had hoped.

The play was tried out at the Paper Mill Playhouse early in 2016 with an ace creative team that seemed earmarked for Broadway. And indeed, Beowulf Boritt’s set design, William Ivey Long’s costumes, Howell Brinkley’s lighting, and Gareth Owen’s sound are all top of the line.

The potent directorial team of De Niro and Jerry Zaks elicit fine performances from all, and have fashioned a well-paced production.

The cast is splendidly characterful, starting with Sonny’s dubious wise-guy cronies, Rudy the Voice (Joey Sorge), Eddie Mush (Jonathan Brody), JoJo the Whale (Michael Barra), Frankie Coffeecake (Ted Brunetti), Tony-Ten-To-Two (Paul Salvatoriello), Handsome Nick (Rory Max Kaplan), Crazy Mario (Dominic Nolfi), and Sally Slick (Keith White).

Blake is appropriately touching as he vainly tries to convince his son he only wants the best for him. And Lucia Giannetta is wonderfully real as Calogero’s mother making the most of her big number “Look to Your Heart.”

In the early scenes, Loverro proves one of those remarkable triple-threat child performers, though his big crying jag in an early scene was less than convincing. When Thornton takes over as the teenage character, he makes a strong impression, too. DuBose is sympathetic as Calogero’s first crush, and shines in her musical moments.

Above all, this is Nick Cordero’s show. He was a standout as another gangster in “Bullets Over Broadway,” and did his best to give heart to the thankless role of Jessie Mueller’s troubled husband in “Waitress.” But this is a real star-making part, and he exudes plenty of charisma, and he’s been given a good old fashioned ballad, which might have been on the 1950s hit parade called “One of the Great Ones.”

(Longacre Theatre, 220 West 48th Street; www.Telecharge.com or 212-239-6200)