ScheckOnTheater

Charlie Sheen, he of the “Tiger DNA” and “Adonis Blood,” returned to Radio City Music Hall Sunday night as part of his Violent Torpedoes of Truth tour that has garnered endless media fascination. Unlike his first show at the venue on Friday night, which apparently resulted in widespread booing and walk-outs, the evening was a relatively successful affair that seemed to please the bad boy actor’s diehard fans.

Sheen seems to be making the show up as he goes along, which he pretty much admitted in the course of the brief (90 minutes) evening which consisted of mild banter with an onstage interviewer; several film clips, including a comic mash-up of his infamous 20/20 television interview; interactions with various audience members and enough ranting about “winning” to make him seem like a motivational speaker from hell.

The most surprising aspect of the show was Sheen’s apparently newfound contriteness. He apologized to Two and a Half Men co-star Jon Cryer for having called him a “troll,” instead declaring him to be a “rock star.” He begrudgingly gave credit to the show’s creator Chuck Lorre for his comedic writing skills and promised to apologize if it would result in his getting back on the show from which he admitted to having been fired.  

“I’ll go back if they rehire me,” he said. “I will get back on that fucking show.”  

He also implored the audience to aid him in his campaign. “If you want to see me back on Two and a Half Men, shout it out to Warner Brothers,” urged the actor. “You guys can’t watch it without me, can you?” 

At the urging of his onstage prompter, he also discussed some of his past indiscretions, including an incident in which he hired a gaggle of hookers to dress up as USC cheerleaders.

“I wound up in the hospital right afterwards, so I guess that’s winning…to a degree,” he commented.

He made much effort to interact with the crowd, venturing into the aisles and even making a brief appearance in the cavernous venue’s balcony. He solicited audience suggestions as to how to frame his apology to the suits, and also introduced such celebrity attendees as former baseball star Daryl Strawberry and Inside the Actor’s Studio host James Lipton, the latter obligingly asking Sheen about his favorite curse word.

“It’s either fuck, or Denise,” the actor responded to big laughs, in a reference to his ex-wife, actress Denise Richards.

When a female fan volunteered herself to become a third “goddess” in Sheen’s notorious harem, she was brought up onstage to be inspected by the actor and his two current goddesses. She apparently didn’t make the cut.

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

The most surprising thing about the New York Philharmonic’s star-studded concert production of Stephen Sondheim’s Company is how unmusical it is. Sure, the orchestra sounds great under the assured conducting of the venerable Paul Gemignani. And it’s a pleasure to hear the lush orchestrations, especially after the recent, pared-down Broadway revival.

But too many of the score’s great songs receive insubstantial treatment, with the ironic result that the evening is most effective in its book scenes, even in the cavernous Avery Fisher Hall.

Still, this Company has its pleasures. The ever youthful Neil Patrick Harris is terrific as Bobby, the 35-year-old bachelor ruminating over commitment issues while observing the relationships of his married friends and juggling several girlfriends. While his voice is not a particularly powerful instrument, he brings a touching emotional sincerity to his numbers, especially the show closer “Being Alive.”

The large ensemble, combining theater veterans (Craig Bierko, Katie Finneran, Aaron Lazar, Patti LuPone and Jim Walton, among others), with a few TV star ringers (Jon Cryer, Christina Hendricks of Mad Men and Stephen Colbert), is a mixed bag.

Not surprisingly, LuPone hits it out of the park with the landmark “Ladies Who Lunch.” And Finneran delivers a delightfully manic “Getting Married Today,” even if she did flub a little on opening night.

On the other hand, Anika Noni Rose fails to convey the requisite intensity of “Another Hundred People”; Hendricks, although endearing as the ditzy flight attendant April, lacks the vocal chops for “Barcelona”; and such group numbers as “You Could Drive a Person Crazy” fail to have the desired impact.

Under the direction of Lonny Price, the disparate ensemble melds together in surprisingly seamless fashion. Although there are times when one is all too aware of the obvious lack of rehearsal time, the evening is a respectable rendition of Sondheim’s classic, even if it lacks the grand musical sweep of such previous New York Philharmonic presentations as Sweeney Todd and My Fair Lady. But that won’t prevent this limited run from being a must-see event for the legions of Sondheim fans.

Avery Fisher Hall, 132 W. 65th St. 212-875-5656. www.nyphil.org.

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.