The Front Page *** B-

Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur’s much revived and adapted 1928 comedy is back on Broadway in a lavish, star-studded production led by Nathan Lane as editor Walter Burns and John Slattery as reporter Hildy Johnson. A slimmed-down John Goodman plays Sheriff Hartman, Jefferson Mays is the hypochondriac reporter Bensinger, Holland Taylor is Mrs. Grant, Hildy’s intended mother-in-law, Sherie Renee Scott is Mollie Malloy, the doxy with a heart of gold, and Robert Morse is Mr. Pincus, the befuddled messenger. And those are just the actors listed above the title! When minor roles are filled by the likes of Dylan Baker, Patricia Connolly, David Pittu and Lewis J. Stadlen, the casting can only be called profligate. The action takes place in the press room of the Criminal Courts Building in Chicago, which overlooks the gallows where an alleged Communist who killed a black policeman is scheduled to be hanged in several hours. The repartee among the reporters fills most of the first act, which takes a long time to build up steam. Things get livelier in the second act after the doomed man escapes. There is snappy dialogue and madcap physical comedy. The play really comes to life when Nathan Lane finally makes his entrance late in Act II. A touch of tragedy struck a discordant note. The third act ties up loose ends nicely. The actors are in top form, most of all Mays and Morse. I was slightly disappointed with John Slattery, an actor I have long admired but who seemed a bit old and a bit off as Hildy. In some ways, the material seemed dated: the print media no longer command the attention they did in 1928 and are no longer the exclusive province of men. Other things seemed all too timely: there are still trigger-happy cops, civic corruption and cynical courting of the black vote. The set design by Douglas W. Schmidt is excellent and the costumes by Ann Roth are spot-on. Jack O’Brien’s direction is fluid, but he has not yet found a way to enliven the first act. It was an enjoyable, if not memorable, opportunity to return to the era when plays could have three acts and more than two dozen roles. Running time: 2 hours 45 minutes, including two intermissions.

It's Only a Play ***

This much-revised comedy by Terrrence McNally, which is breaking box office records on Broadway, has a stellar cast including Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, Stockard Channing, Megan Mullally, F. Murray Abraham and Rupert Grint (from Harry Potter films), plus promising newcomer Micah Stock. Lane and Channing are at the top of their form, rattling off a nonstop series of bitchy zingers, many of them theatrical insider jokes that flatter the audience by making them feel in the know. Abraham, as an acerbic critic, reveals a manic comic side that I never knew he had. Mullally was out so I can’t comment on her; understudy Isabel Keating seemed flightier than necessary. Rupert Grint, as a hotshot British director who claims to crave failure, has to cope with a poorly written role and a hideous costume. Stock, who resembles a young Jim Parsons, holds his own in a long, hilarious scene with Lane. And then there’s Matthew Broderick as the author of the play whose opening night is being celebrated. He copes reasonably well with difficult material in Act One — a lecture on the depressing state of Broadway theater and a prayer for those involved in the business — but seems to retreat into a shell of blandness in Act Two. The fun is greatly abetted by an over-the-top set design by Scott Pask and hilarious costumes, including the outerwear of unseen celebrities from other Broadway shows, by Ann Roth. Director Jack O’Brien occasionally lets the pace lag. The wisp of a plot is about the anxieties of waiting for reviews on opening night, a somewhat dated concept in the age of instantly accessible reviews on newspapers’ digital sites. The second act fizzles more than it fizzes. McNally would have done well to follow one of the theatrical trends he deplores in the Act One lecture — 90-minute plays without an intermission. A string of one-liners, no matter how funny, does not stay fresh for two hours and forty minutes. It’s too much of a good thing.

The Nance ***

(Please click on the title to see the complete review.)
All praise to Douglas Carter Beane for creating Chauncey Miles, a role that Nathan Lane was born to play. He is a complex character -- a homosexual who plays a flamboyant gay stereotype in burlesque, but who finds drag demeaning, whose politics are arch-conservative, whose preferred sex is a romp in the park or a pickup at the Automat in Greenwich Village, but who, surprisingly, attracts the love of Ned (Jonny Orsini), an young innocent new to the big city. A pre-election vice crackdown in 1937 puts both his livelihood and his lifestyle in jeopardy. Beame's clever concept is to alternate scenes of Chauncey's personal life with burlesque routines and backstage scenes. The burlesque sketches with his stage partner Efram (the excellent Louis J. Stadlen) are hoary but still hilarious. The three strippers, Sylvie, Joan and Carmen (Cady Huffman, Jenni Barber and Andrea Burns) are the funniest to tread the boards since "Gypsy." The rapid alternation of short scenes in the first act works like clockwork. The second act does not fare as well. The level of inventiveness is not as high, the focus gets a little blurry, and the ending is peculiar and abrupt. For Lane fans, his performance makes the play a "must-see" despite the flaws. Orsini runs the gamut from wooden to inspired; he certainly shines in the obligatory nude scene. John Lee Beatty's set design is effective and Ann Roth's costumes are evocative. Director Jack O'Brien's work is mostly fine. I wish the second act were better, but I am still very glad that I saw the play. This Lincoln Center Theater production at the Lyceum is still in previews as I write this. Running time: 2 hours, 25 minutes including intermission.