This ambitious enterprise from Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman has been trying to find the right pitch for its song for more than a decade. 

Although classic screen musicals such as this can never be satisfactorily made for the stage, this production is not without its highlights.

After a half century away from the stage, Chicken Soup comes storming back to rage against fascism.

Never before staged in English, Jonathan Kent’s viscerally thrilling production boils down this epic into three and a half heart-pounding hours.

Unlike the garish version being performed in the West End, this Much Ado relies on the text and the acting. And it works.

It’s doubtful we’ll see a finer, more vital Richard III in a decade.

In trying to reinterpret the story to make it more universal, what we see now is a mutant version meant not for fans of the arts, but for simple savages.

Our naughty hero wages war, quite literally, against the heavens.

Stoppard maneuvers two of the most dispensable minor characters ever conceived into a central position via convoluted puns, collegiate debate and knowingly arched eyebrows over the Bard.

The play may be a storm in a domestic teacup, but the electricity crackles, and the fine bone china, once smashed, can never be fixed.