American Psycho ***

This musical version of Brett Easton Ellis’s controversial 1991 novel about Patrick Bateman (the mesmerizing Benjamin Walker), an investment banker by day and serial killer by night, is a triumph of style over substance. Although I have neither read the book nor seen the movie, I gather that the musical has smoothed out a lot of the rough edges and reduced the body count substantially. Satire trumps gore most of the time. The soullessness of consumerist capitalism in the Reagan era is well-captured by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa’s book, Duncan Sheik’s music, Lynn Page’s choreography and Rupert Goold’s direction. The gadgets, brands, clubs and restaurants may have changed but the spirit of entitlement in 1989 New York is not all that different from today’s. Bateman and his coworkers are as vacuous as their pecs are buff. The women are equally unlikable. The monochromatic scenic design by Es Devlin and sophisticated projections by Finn Ross are so striking that they sometimes threaten to upstage the actors. Among them are Helene York as Bateman’s obnoxious fiancee, Jennifer Damiano as his love-struck secretary, Drew Moerlein as his rival, Morgan Weed as his mistress and Alice Ripley, basically wasted, as his mother. The whirling sets, hyperactive videos, bright lights (by Justin Townsend) and gaudy costumes (by Katrina Lindsay) eventually produced a feeling of sensory overload and a diminishing conviction that the story was worth all the effort involved. The second act loses some of the early energy. Nevertheless, as its best moments, the show’s style overcomes its flaws and makes for edgy entertainment. The audience, considerably younger than usual for Broadway, was quite enthusiastic. Running time: 2 hours, 35 minutes including intermission.

Machinal****

My theatergoing year got off to a very promising start with Roundabout Theatre's dazzling revival of Sophie Treadwell's expressionistic 1928 play. Helen (Rebecca Hall), a woman in her 20s who lives with and supports her unloving widowed mother (Suzanne Bertish), suffers from what used to be called neurasthenia, a kind of mental exhaustion brought on by the stresses of the impersonal, mechanistic, modern urban world. The stylized opening scene, set in the office where Helen works as a stenographer, brilliantly captures the relentless monotony and banality of the workplace. After Helen's older self-absorbed boss (Michael Cumpsty) takes a shine to her, she reluctantly marries him even though she cringes at his touch. When she visits a speakeasy with a friend, she meets a sexy young man (Morgan Spector) and begins an affair. Her powerful attraction to her lover makes her loveless marriage seem ever more intolerable. Complications ensue. Supporting the four excellent leads, 14 actors deftly handle multiple roles. A great deal of the success of the play is owed to its outstanding production design -- Es Devlin's set of beige geometrically etched panels mounted on a large turntable seems to bring us to a new location each time it revolves. It functions almost like one of the characters. When the set turns between scenes, we get fleeting vignettes choreographed by Sam Pinkleton which Jane Cox has dramatically lit by moving horizontal bands of light. The excellent sound design by Matt Tierney underscores the emotions onstage. Michael Krass has costumed the supporting cast in appropriately bleak monochromes. Director Lyndsey Turner has skillfully blended all these elements with brilliant results. Bravo to Roundabout for bringing us this rare treat. Running time: 95 minutes, no intermission.