I spent most of last week in New York City.  Because I know many of you travel during the holidays, I’ll tell you which shows to see, and which ones to skip.  At the top of the list of anyone reading this column is the revival of Falsettos.  It is the best production and cast of this show you’ll ever see, although what was once edgy and groundbreaking is somewhat dated today.  Rather than play it as a period piece, the show is time-ambiguous, which works if you don’t think about it too much.  Along with the illness which is never named, the pitfalls of coming out, relationships and parenting are still salient.  Holding it all together is a masterful performance by Christian Borle – whose deflated arms prove that nothing lasts forever.  As Marvin, he is never less than captivating vocally and dramatically.  Stephanie J. Block plays the role of his ex-wife with enormous color and nuances.  This made her “I’m Breaking Down” less schticky and more devastating.  I was less enthralled by Andrew Rannells, who plays Borle’s lover.  I’m surely in the minority of people who felt that his very specific talents were not a natural fit here.  Throughout the show, I kept thinking how wonderful he must have been in Hedwig!

There’s no doubt that the hit of this Broadway season will be Dear Evan Hansen, a new musical about teen angst, suicide, social media, and coming of age.  The show created quite a buzz last season off-Broadway, and that built-in audience has led to a frenzy reminiscent of the lead-up to Hamilton.  The preview performance I attended was like a rock show, with palpable electricity in the audience from the moment the curtain rose.  The show speaks to anyone who has felt like an outsider.  Major kudos to Ben Platt (from Pitch Perfect), who is a shoo-in Tony winner.  Truth be told, there’s nary a misstep in the entire production.

In the annals of theatre, The Front Page is legendary.  The calibre of the cast in the current revival is a luxury rarely accorded to a Broadway show; perhaps the strictly limited run helped lock in the best people.  Once you get past the dense first act, hold onto your seat, because the show flies.  John Slattery (with curious hair) may lead the show, but it’s Nathan Lane who galvanizes it with a frenetic presence that just sucks you into its wake.  I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the transcendent Holland Taylor, who gives everyone a run for their money, and Robert Morse, who all but steals the show with two tiny scenes.  A must-see.

I’m less enthusiastic about Pierre, Natasha & the Great Comet of 1812.  I know Josh Groban wanted to make his Broadway debut in a new musical, but I think he should have waited until a better vehicle came along.  Yes, he has two lovely songs, and gets a moving final scene, but it’s really a supporting role.  The show is a spectacle, with bells and whistles for days, but those trappings seem to be masking a slender book and less-than-memorable score.  Most of the critics disagree with me, but what do they know?  And while I’m all for color-blind casting, I must confess I was distracted by the wildly talented Denèe Benton as Natasha.  Not that this gifted African-American actress didn’t play it well – she did.  But every time someone mentioned how pale Natasha was, I thought, “Huh?”.

I finally saw Hamilton.  Let’s clear something up – the entire show is not rap.  In fact, most of it is sung.  There are a variety of styles that meld together into a riveting piece of theatre.  Would I want to sit down and listen to the original cast recording?  Probably not.  But with these remarkable performances and inventive staging, it is completely captivating – not to mention provocative and educational.  Out of this uniformly gifted cast, I must single out Jordan Fisher, who joined the production mere days before I saw it and fit in seamlessly.