ScheckOnTheater

Stage wonders of the most magisterial sort are delivered in War Horse, the hit London production that has been remounted by the Lincoln Center Theater. This epic drama about the bond between a British boy and his horse combines dazzling stagecraft with deep emotion to create a simply magical evening that will enthrall younger and older audiences alike.

Adapted by Nick Stafford with the Handspring Puppet Company from Michael Morpurgo’ acclaimed novel, the show depicts the fateful adventures of Joey, the beloved horse of a farmer’s son, Albert (Seth Numrich), who winds up serving in the front lines during World War I. Joey was bought by young Albert’s father (Boris McGiver) when he was just a foal. When the animal proves ill suited for farm work, Albert’s mother (Alyssa Bresnahan) decrees that Albert raise him until he’s grown enough to recoup the hefty purchase price.

But when the war breaks out and the British army finds itself in desperate need of horses, Joey winds up serving for the British army despite Albert’s tearful protestations. Not long afterwards Albert himself volunteers and winds up fighting on the battlefields in France while attempting to find his beloved horse.

It’s a simple but powerful story, laced with generous doses of sentimentality. And the production--co-directed by Marianne Elliott and Tom Morris and which makes striking use of the vast Beaumont stage as well as the theater’s aisles--relates it magnificently. The primary distinguishing element is the fantastical puppetry created by Adrian Kohler and Basil Jones that is used to depict Joey and several other animal characters, including a fellow war horse, some rapacious vultures and a comically ornery goose.

The life-size horse creations, made out of plywood and fabric and which are each manipulated by teams of three actor/puppeteers, are remarkably vivid and expressive. Indeed, the illusion of living, breathing animals is utterly convincing, despite the fact that the puppeteers are often clearly visible.

The battle sequences are also particularly powerful, with evocative sound, lighting and projection effects employed that thoroughly draw us into the action. Such sequences as when the British officer is literally blown off his steed by a flying projectile and another in which Joey is confronted by a menacing tank are staged with a nightmarish intensity.

 But the more intimate aspects of the story are hardly given short shrift, with the tender relationship between the boy and his horse conveyed in deeply touching fashion. The wonderful 35-person ensemble delivers deeply involving performances: Besides the aforementioned leads, there are standout turns by Stephen Plunkett as a kindhearted lieutenant; T. Ryder Smith as Joey’s uncle who is forced to send his own son off to war; and Peter Hermann as a German soldier who appropriates Joey after his regiment is captured.  

Vivian Beaumont Theater, 150 W. 65th St. 212-239-6200. www.telecharge.com.

The Motherf**ker With the Hat has at least two things going for it right off the bat. The first is that marvelously profane--albeit generally unprintable--title. The second is the coup of having landed comedian Chris Rock for his Broadway debut in this new dark comedy by Stephen Adly Guirgis (Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train and Our Lady of 121st Street, among others).

Ironically, both elements actually work against the production. The title, although certainly memorable, has proven off-putting to mainstream Broadway audiences. And Rock has been less of a box-office draw than expected, even though his presence no doubt accounts for this Broadway engagement of a play that would have seemed far more at home in an intimate, non-commercial environment.

Rock, despite his star wattage, mainly plays second fiddle to Bobby Cannavale as Jackie, an ex-con and former drug addict still in love with Veronica (Elizabeth Rodriguez), his girlfriend since grade school. But when Jackie discovers an unfamiliar men’s hat on the premises, he erupts in a jealous rage that threatens to derail their relationship and end his sobriety.

He seeks comfort from his longtime AA sponsor Ralph (Rock)--who clearly has problems of his own with his surly, combative wife Victoria (Annabella Sciorra)--and his hair salon owner cousin Julio (Yul Vazquez), with whom he has a friendly but tense relationship.

Although the playwright unfurls some dramatic plot developments along the way, including the identity of the true owner of that titular hat, he’s more interested in the emotional dynamics among the characters and the ways in which friends and lovers are so easily capable of casual betrayal.

As with Guirgis’ earlier works, Motherf**ker is marked by hilariously vulgar and explosive dialogue, which is for the most part expertly delivered here by the cast under the excellent direction of Anna D. Shapiro (August: Osage County). But while this pungent work has many effective moments, it fails to cohere into a thematically satisfying play.

Despite his high-profile presence, Rock is the ensemble’s weakest element, displaying a surprising tentativeness that is a far cry from his high-voltage, stand-up comedy work. He’s essentially wiped off the stage by Cannavale, who infuses Jackie with a combination of ferocity and vulnerability that is endlessly entertaining.

Unlike Sciorra, who does little to elevate her underwritten role, both the dynamic Rodriguez and the slyly funny Vazquez make the most of their supporting characters.

Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, 236 W. 45th St. 212-239-6200. www.Telecharge.com.

There’s so much that works about Catch Me if You Can that it’s easy to overlook what doesn’t. This adaptation of the 2002 Steven Spielberg film starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hanks boasts the sort of old-fashioned aspects so many contemporary musicals lack: solid storytelling, characters you come to care about and a tuneful, memorable score. Only the awkward structure and slow patches of Terrence McNally’s book prevent it from being a total triumph.

Set in the 1960s, the story relates the real-life misadventures of Frank Abagnale, Jr. (Aaron Tveit), a teenage con artist and forger who managed to steal millions of dollars in a nationwide crime spree before the age of 21. While passing himself off in a variety of glamorous occupations—including doctor, lawyer and even airline pilot—he’s being trailed by a team of FBI agents led by the indefatigable but repeatedly frustrated Agent Carl Hanratty (Norbert Leo Butz).

McNally’s principal dramatic conceit is to have Frank narrating his tale as the sort of television musical variety show that was so popular in the era in which the events take place. (Indeed, there’s a direct homage to Mitch Miller). While the format provides a natural opportunity to ogle a plethora of long-legged chorus girls going through their elaborate routines, it’s an unnecessarily distancing device that only distracts from the main story.

On the other hand, McNally’s book does an excellent job of delineating the emotional connections among the characters: between Frank Jr. and his unrepentant rogue of a father (Tom Wopat), who mentors him in the methods of misdirection; between Frank Sr. and his much younger, disenchanted war-bride wife (Rachel de Benedet); and especially between Frank Jr. and his FBI agent hunter, who turn out to be kindred spirits despite being on opposite sides of the law. Only Frank’s relationship with Brenda (Kerry Butler) a young nurse (Kerry Butler) for whom he finally decides to go straight, feels perfunctory.

Director Jack O’Brien, choreographer Jerry Mitchell and composers Scott Whittman and Marc Shaiman—reuniting after Hairspray—have created a dazzling production featuring plenty of memorable musical numbers. Co-stars Butz and Tveit each have their showstoppers, the former with the manic “Don’t Break the Rules” and the latter with the anthemic “Good-Bye.”

But each of the characters gets their moments to shine in the musical spotlight: Wopat displays his languorous baritone on such songs as the wonderful “Butter Outta Cream”; Nick Wyman and Linda Hart, as Brenda’s blue-blood parents, let loose in the riotous “(Our) Family Tree”; and Butler makes the most out her powerful ballad “Fly, Fly Away.”

Mitchell’s choreography, whether for the leggy chorines, the loose-limbed Butz or the youthfully athletic Tveit, is consistently eye-catching. And the brassy musical arrangements gives the score a wonderful, ‘60s flavored pop quality.

As the ever scheming but endearing Frank, Tveit delivers the sort of charismatic leading man turn that instantly catapults him to the big leagues. Butz is a consistent delight as the stressed-out FBI agent, investing the character with endless comic quirks that score big laughs. And Wopat is very touching as the loving father but damaged father who eventually hits the skids.

Neil Simon Theatre, 250 W. 52nd St. 877-250-2929. www.ticketmaster.com

As Reno Sweeney, Sutton Foster may not have the powerhouse belt of Ethel Merman or the roof-shaking authority of Patti LuPone. But she’s got one thing that her predecessors didn’t. She’s got legs.

When this dazzling musical comedy performer aims those shapely, seemingly endless gams to the sky in the new revival of Anything Goes, it now makes perfect sense for her character to sing “I Get a Kick Out of You.”

Director/chorographer Kathleen Marshall’s effervescent production of Cole Porter’s 1934 musical features the sort of elaborate production numbers combining precision dancing and joyful exuberance that send you onto the street with a smile on your face. Add to that the classic score (augmented with songs written for other musicals), a gleefully silly, old-fashioned book and some first-rate comic performances, and you have an evening of musical comedy that is, to quote one of its composer’s famous songs, “Easy to Love.”

The plot, involving star-crossed lovers, crooks on the lam, and a dotty, near-sighted millionaire all coming together on a luxury liner crossing the Atlantic, is negligible. No wonder, with so many cooks in the pot: the original book written by P.G. Wodehouse and Guy Bolton was quickly revamped by Howard Lindsay and Russell Crouse and was then further altered by Timothy Crouse and John Weidman for the 1987 Lincoln Center production.

But the genial air of silliness never dissipates however hoary the jokes. And what does it matter, with a score featuring such songs as “You’re the Top,” “Friendship,” “It’s De-lovely” and the title tune.

Foster, who’s previously specialized in ingénue roles in such shows as Thoroughly Modern Millie and The Drowsy Chaperone, isn’t a perfect fit for the part of former evangelist turned tough-talking nightclub performer Reno Sweeney. But she carries the day anyway, thanks to her clarion vocals and boundless energy that infuses such show-stopping numbers as “Blow, Gabriel, Blow.”

Not everyone in the large supporting cast is up to her level. Colin Donnell is bland as Billy Crocker, the young stockbroker who stows aboard the ship to pursue Hope Harcourt (Laura Osnes), the pretty debutante with whom he’s fallen hopelessly in love; Joel Grey milks his cutesy shtick too shamelessly as the gangster Moonface Martin; and Jessica Martin is largely wasted as Hope’s gold-digging mother.

 But there are standout comic turns by the veteran John McMartin as the hapless tycoon and especially Adam Godley as the foppish English lord that Mrs. Harcourt has snared for her daughter’s betrothed. The duet between the similarly long-limbed Godley and Foster on the comic number “The Gypsy in Me” is but one of the evening’s many highpoints.

Derek McLane’s art-deco sets and Martin Pakledinaz’s old-fashioned, color-coordinated period costumes add further to the merriment, while Michael Gibson and Bill Elliott’s orchestrations and Rob Fisher’s vocal arrangements do full justice to the lustrous music.

Stephen Sondheim Theatre, 124 W. 43rd St. 212-239-6200. www.telecharge.com.

The title character of the new play Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo is pretty pissed off. His country is in ruins, with death and destruction all around him. He’s still locked up in a dilapidated zoo. And when he follows his true nature by chomping on a bored U.S. soldier (Glenn Davis) who foolishly sticks his hand in his cage, he gets shot dead for his troubles.

As you probably already know, said tiger is being played by Robin Williams. The star is made to resemble an animal only through shaggy, matted hair and unkempt clothing. But he still speaks in those immediately recognizable comic rhythms, making his titular character seem less like a fearsome beast than a crotchety elderly man complaining about the conditions at his nursing home.

The movie star casting, although undoubtedly necessary for commercial reasons, seriously unbalances the overall effect of Rajiv Joseph’s surreal drama, a finalist for last year’s Pulitzer Prize. While Williams is admirably restrained in his relatively supporting role and gives a thoroughly credible performance, his presence only tends to emphasize the flaws in this thematically ambitious but unfocused play.

Set in the war-torn city in 2003, the play concerns the aftermath of the violent incident, as the ghost of the tiger wanders through the environs railing about God’s injustices.

Other characters who figure prominently in the story are Kev (Brad Fleischer), the soldier who killed the tiger with a gold-plated gun he appropriated from the former palace of Saddam Hussein’s thuggish son Uday (Hrach Titizian), and Musa (Arian Moayed), an Iraqi translator who previously worked as Uday’s resident gardener.

Past and present events are freely intermingled as the tiger ponders the meaninglessness of life even as he enters a Garden of Eden that in actuality was Uday’s ornate topiary garden. Meanwhile, Musa is forced to ponder his own role in his country’s tragic fate when he is faced with the ghost of his former employer.

The tiger’s running narration--which range from comic one-liners (“I get so stupid when I get hungry,” he admits about the incident that caused his demise) to existential musings. “When an atheist suddenly finds himself walking around after death, he has got some serious re-evaluating to do,” he admits.

The playwright certainly displays a flair for poetic language, and he has created a spooky, Beckett-like surreal atmosphere well befitting his subject matter. But there’s little narrative or thematic coherence to the proceedings, resulting in some undeniably fascinating moments that ultimately don’t add up to very much.

Director Moises Kaufman has provided a wonderfully spooky staging, albeit one that would probably have greater impact in a more intimate theater. Adding to the production’s impact are Derek McLane’s hauntingly abstract sets and the consistently excellent performances by the supporting cast. 

But it’s hard not to wish that all of this effort, not to mention the Broadway acting debut of its headlining star, had been put in the services of a more fully realized work.  

Richard Rodgers Theatre, 226 W. 46th St. 212-307-4100. www.ticketmaster.com.