You found me just in time

I’m embracing positivity by breaking down jukebox musicals I actually like.

Jonathan Groff as Bobby Darin in Just in Time. Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman.

Will we ever exit the age of the jukebox musical? Probably not. There are several successful jukebox shows from seasons past still running on Broadway: & Juliet, Moulin Rouge!, MJ, Hell’s Kitchen. Familiar IP is familiar IP—it’s the reason why the even bigger trend these days is musicals (and plays) adapted from movies. Thankfully, the two jukebox shows from this past season that are still running are both ones I can recommend unreservedly. Perhaps this subgenre is simply getting better! Or maybe we just lucked out when it comes to the last 2024-2025 Broadway season jukebox musicals still standing.

Before I refresh you on my patented (not actually patented, but don’t steal) scoring rubric, a word on two shows that closed. It didn’t feel fair to break them down here, mostly because they’re long gone and I have… mixed things to say. (Here’s where I’d insert the Simpsons “stop, stop, he’s already dead!” GIF if I knew how to do that on Substack.) At the same time, I think they’re worth mentioning.

So, in brief and sans rubric, A Wonderful World - The Louis Armstrong Musical mostly felt as overstuffed to me as its title. What made it worth seeing was the lead performance by James Monroe Iglehart, well deserving of the show’s sole Tony nomination. The musical biopic has been done to death at this point, and there was nothing new about the take here, but I’m glad I got to see Iglehart do it. Then there’s Swept Away, a show I admired more than I enjoyed. The Avett Brothers score was lovely, and I appreciated how dark the book got—I am always here for an ethical debate on cannibalism in a musical—but it never quite cohered for me. I wish it had found an audience, in large part because I want more weird and challenging shows. Also, in a season with far too many screens for my liking, I do have to shout out the gorgeous set design.

But on to the main (albeit abbreviated) event, the scoring of the two jukebox shows from last season you can still see. As a reminder, here’s how the rubric works—

Originality of story: Is there something that feels fresh about this story, or is it just telling an artist’s story and falling back on all the most familiar tropes? (X/10)

Preponderance of bops: I don’t think this needs any explanation. How many bops are there? Are they of a high quality? It’s subjective, but I’m right. (X/10)

Integration of music: Are the songs entirely diegetic, and if so, do they still work to move the story forward? If people are breaking into song, does it feel labored? (X/10)

Musical self-awareness: The worst jukebox musicals take themselves (and the artists they’re celebrating) way too seriously. Are we having any fun with the material? Are tongues firmly planted in cheeks? (X/10)

Audience self-awareness: Does the audience know they are seeing a live performance? The more they sing along, the lower this score is. Whether or not it’s fair to blame that on the show, I’m going to. (X/10)

Total score: X/50

Buena Vista Social Club

Natalie Venetia Belcon as Omara Portuondo and the cast of Buena Vista Social Club. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

Originality of story: Although the show is based on the album of the same name (and might owe a bit of inspiration to the 1999 Wim Wenders documentary), the story is entirely original. It’s also weighed down with predictable tropes, so I can only give partial credit here. (6/10)

Preponderance of bops: The impeccably performed score of Buena Vista Social Club is by far the best thing about it. The second time I went, I largely ignored the book and just paid attention to the songs, and that was a much better experience. “Candela” goes so hard. (9/10)

Integration of music: This is a tough one to score, because the songs are all diegetic, and I wouldn’t say they really move the story forward (with some exceptions). I’m still inclined to be generous, though, given how much the music is the centerpiece of the experience. (8/10)

Musical self-awareness: Yes, the show takes itself very seriously, but it’s with a level of respect that feels appropriate given the subject matter. And there is at least an acknowledgment that the bulk of the story is completely made up, which counts as self-awareness to me. (7/10)

Audience self-awareness: I didn’t hear anyone singing along, but I did see several audience members giving themselves over to the music and having the time of their lives. What more can you ask for, really? (9/10)

Total score: 39/50

Buena Vista Social Club is running at the Schoenfeld Theatre. Buy tickets here.

Just in Time

Jonathan Groff as Bobby Darin in Just in Time. Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman.

Originality of story: I was worried that Just in Time would follow the typical structure of the bio-musical, so I was delighted when the show started and Jonathan Groff was playing himself. It’s a smart deconstruction of the format, even if it does eventually end up in familiar terrain. (7/10)

Preponderance of bops: Did you know I love Bobby Darin? Why was I the last person to find out? But really, there are so many songs that absolutely crush, including the biggies like “Splish Splash” and “Mack the Knife.” Gracie Lawrence doing “Who’s Sorry Now” is also a highlight. (9/10)

Integration of music: Many of the songs are diegetic, but they do move the story along, with the aforementioned “Who’s Sorry Now” punctuating Connie Francis and Bobby Darin’s breakup, for example. The non-diegetic numbers are a little less successful. (7/10)

Musical self-awareness: I think we’ve all grown somewhat fatigued by shows going meta, but the reason this one works as well as it does is that it’s commenting on the jukebox genre while also embracing sincerity. To me, it’s the perfect blend. (9/10)

Audience self-awareness: Another thing many of us would like to move on from? Immersive entertainment. And yet, Alex Timbers continue to strike the right balance. The audience is part of the show here, but never in a way that feels intrusive—or encourages them to loudly sing along. (9/10)

Total score: 41/50

Just in Time is running at the Circle in the Square Theatre. Buy tickets here.

We could see "Boop"

An ode to Jasmine Amy Rogers and the magic of being "Boop"-pilled.

Jasmine Amy Rogers as Betty Boop and the cast of Boop! The Musical. Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman.

I’m making a prediction here: The two towering diva performances of Audra McDonald in Gypsy and Nicole Scherzinger in Sunset Boulevard will cancel each other out, as will Megan Hilty and Jennifer Simard in Death Becomes Her, and Jasmine Amy Rogers will take home the Tony Award for Best Actress in Musical. How confident am I in this take? Not very—it’s more wishful thinking than anything else, but if I’m wrong, I’ll at least be wrong quickly. To be clear, all of these women are worthy in their own way. This was a great season for actresses acting, and Audra in particular is doing something extraordinary as Mama Rose. And yet! I want this for Jasmine Amy Rogers. I feel like she deserves it. And I really think she could win.

Boop! The Musical is a show I went into with ample uncertainty given my less-than-positive feelings about IP-driven musicals (even if the IP in this case is a 95-year-old animated character who has faded from the public consciousness over the last few decades). I’d heard very mixed things, though I will say that the people I trust the most insisted it’s secretly great. I figured that if I did end up liking it, it would take a while to get on its wavelength. Imagine my surprise when I fell in love pretty instantly—and much of that credit goes to Jasmine Amy Rogers, who is so instantly winning that it’s kind of impossible not to embrace the entire endeavor.

I’ll get back to her in a minute. I do want to offer some praise to Boop as a whole, because I feel like pinning all of the show’s success on Rogers isn’t fair to the other great things about it. The Barbie-coded approach of bringing Betty Boop to the 21st century is a clever one, and it’s something the musical does well, without getting overly mired in predictable fish-out-of-water mishaps. The score—music by Foster and lyrics by Susan Birkenhead—doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but its catchy, throwback style is better than it’s been given credit for. It’s also well matched to Jerry Mitchell’s Tony-nominated choreography. (With all due respect to Buena Vista Social Club, he should win.) Speaking of nominations, Gregg Barnes should also pick up the Tony for costume design, if only for the Act Two opener “Where Is Betty?” and the costumes that are in vibrant color on one side and black-and-white on the other.

Much of Boop is broad, yes, but it’s deliberate and self-aware—and not in that grating meta way where you lose any semblance of sincerity. This is obviously a very sincere show, one that takes itself the right amount of seriously. It’s a credit to Mitchell’s direction and the entire cast that Boop maintains just the right tone throughout. There’s a real emotional core to Betty’s desire for self-actualization, but Boop never forgets that it’s based on cartoons. Songs like “Sunlight” and “My Hero” give the show enough pathos to take these characters seriously, and then we can go back to the silly stuff and Pudgy the dog. (Pudgy is not nominated for a Tony, nor is his puppeteer Phillip Huber. Where is justice?)

Jasmine Amy Rogers as Betty Boop with Pudgy the dog (and Phillip Huber puppeteering). Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman.

But OK: Jasmine Amy Rogers, my Best Actress in a Musical winner and the reason I felt compelled to write this in the first place. She is far and away the best thing about Boop—a show I, again, really like!—and this is the kind of star-making performance that deserves to be recognized. Everything about her portrayal of the title character is perfectly pitched. She’s believably straight out of a cartoon, but never one-note. She manages to evoke the distinctive sound of Betty’s voice in a way that’s somehow never grating. There are so many ways this could have gone wrong, and instead Rogers is the glue that holds it all together. It’s a towering achievement, and while I’m confident she will have a long career with ample opportunities for Tonys down the line, I’d love to see her awarded now. And I say that as someone who generally prefers to see legends showered with trophies over newcomers, which is not me being ageist and more me still recovering from Mikey Madison getting the Oscar over Demi Moore.

I want Rogers to win because I think she deserves to win, but also because I think it could give Boop the boost that it needs to stay open. Right now, it’s fighting an uphill battle. I’ve checked the Broadway grosses, and the only show with a lower average ticket price is Real Women Have Curves. (Give the always wonderful Justina Machado a Tony, and keep that open, too!) Real Women Have Curves, however, will be performing at the ceremony, while Boop will not. We need people to get a sense of what Boop has to offer, and I’m not sure Hannah Solow’s incredible viral TikTok is enough—maybe a Rogers win would do it. There is real theater magic and joy in this show, which is so much better than the thoughtless brand extension it could have been. I’d just love for audiences to have many more chances to see that.

Boop! The Musical is at the Broadhurst Theatre. Buy tickets here.

Movie or musical (or play)? (Part 3)

From Norma Desmond to Edward R. Murrow.

Nicole Scherzinger as Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard. Photo by Marc Brenner.

Here’s the thing: I never intended for this to be an ongoing series. But if Broadway is going to keep translating films to stage, I am going to feel inspired—nay, obligated—to keep breaking down the options this way. (Also, just for a peek behind the curtain, since theater outlets don’t generally want to pay me to write reviews, I’ve been focusing on freelance work that helps me afford my out-of-pocket health insurance, so this is a great way to cover more of a season I’ve been neglecting.)

Perhaps I’ve softened a bit in my old age (I was a whole year younger when I last did this), but I feel a little less reflexively opposed to the idea of adapting movies into plays and musicals now. In part, that’s because there’s been some more thought put into it this season: bigger swings, more nuanced productions, scores that don’t feel like ChatGPT was asked to write songs for a musical adaptation of The Sixth Sense. (I would 1000 percent see that. Picture Caissie Levy as Lynn, earning a Tony for her breathtaking 11 o’clock number “Do I Make Her Proud?”) I certainly don’t like all the adaptations on Broadway this season, but I can at least appreciate that an attempt was made, and I’ve tried to judge them accordingly.

For this installment (spoiler alert: not my last), I’m broadening my parameters for inclusion, because it was impossible to ignore the big movie-turned-play this season. Also I decided to add another play that started as a play but that has a well known movie, which would only be cheating if I weren’t the one making the rules. You have to be flexible sometimes, like when you’re trying to cover a lot of material based on your own silly rubrics. Thank you for your understanding, and for not unsubscribing. But also this is a free newsletter with very infrequent updates, so truly, go with god.

Note: I am always in favor of seeing live theater. I also love movies, but they are no substitute for the theatrical experience—whether they’re a pro-shot, an adaptation of a stage musical, or the inspiration for a play. This “movie or musical?” exercise is simply a way of trying to organize my thoughts about the abundance of theater options, and should only be taken as seriously as you feel like taking it. (This is the same note I include every time, and I always mean it!)

Sunset Boulevard

Tom Francis as Joe Gillis and Nicole Scherzinger as Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard. Photo by Marc Brenner.

I first saw Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Sunset Boulevard when Glenn Close did it for the second time (or I guess third, if you count LA, and we all know Patti does). I thought it was pretty terrible! I enjoy ALW shows, particularly when they’re frozen in the ‘80s like Phantom of the Opera or thrillingly reinterpreted like Cats: The Jellicle Ball. But Sunset Boulevard takes a quite literally perfect film and adds utterly forgettable songs—minus two of his best, “With One Look” and “As If We Never Said Goodbye,” and I guess also the title song, though in my head the lyrics remain, “Sunset Boulevard, schmunset schmoulevard,” which I don’t think is right.

The current and much-lauded production on Broadway is not Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Sunset Boulevard, however. This is Jamie Lloyd’s Sunset Boulevard, a bold new interpretation of the material that audiences went apeshit for in London and that seemed at one point guaranteed to earn star Nicole Scherzinger a Tony once the show transferred to Broadway. (I think Audra has the momentum now, and not because Scherzy asked Russell Brand where to get a “MAKE JESUS FIRST AGAIN” hat.) This Sunset is severe and stripped down, with a Norma who is less fading silent film star and more fallen pop diva. There is a lot of blood at the end (Daniel Fish’s Oklahoma! should sue). And there are screens everywhere, with cameras following cast members onstage and off—Tom Francis sings “Sunset Boulevard” on the street outside, which is mostly fun for the way looky-loo tourists are inevitably shoved—and Scherzinger getting close-up after close-up, long before the arrival of Mr. DeMille.

Unfortunately, I hate screens. I hate them for the way they have supplanted traditional Broadway sets, but I hate them more for the way they often look like shit. Most of all, I hate the way they make me feel like the director should have just made a movie, and that’s truer than ever in Sunset Boulevard, which was famously already a movie. The production includes film-style credits, something that offends me to my core. I could look past my internal biases if I felt like this Sunset amounted to anything, but I find it hollow, a collection of ideas (some of them good!) that are too dramaturgically muddled to cohere. Even Scherzinger, who is objectively strong in the role, can’t overcome characterization that lacks the clarity of Billy Wilder’s vision. The musical has never been for me, so perhaps it’s not surprising that even a radical new approach would be unappealing. Still, I wish I saw what others do here.

Movie or musical: It’s not a fair fight, as far as I’m concerned. One of the most remarkable things about the movie Sunset Boulevard is that it’s 75 years old and still feels startlingly modern. You have to have a really good reason for adapting and updating it, and I simply don’t see one in the current iteration of the musical.

Good Night, and Good Luck

George Clooney as Edward R. Murrow in Good Night, and Good Luck. Photo by Emilio Madrid.

It took me 20 years to watch the movie Good Night, and Good Luck, which I finally rented in advance of seeing the play. I was so impressed by David Strathairn’s performance, George Clooney and Grant Heslov’s script, Robert Elswit’s stunning black-and-white cinematography—and even more dubious about the necessity of putting it onstage. These very literal film-to-play adaptations have irked me ever since I saw Ivo van Hove’s wildly overrated Network. In many ways, it goes back to my feelings about an overuse of screens. If you want to make a movie, make a movie. Let films be films!

Here’s the thing, though: I loved the play version of Good Night, and Good Luck, which doesn’t do anything radically different from the movie in terms of content. The staging, however, is innovative and immersive. As much as I love the look of the movie, I realized there was something meaningful about seeing this story in color. Black-and-white can be distancing—it’s an aesthetic we associate with the past for obvious reasons, and when it is used now, it’s almost always to evoke a different era. In full color, the play wants us to see its story as something impossibly current. Anyone paying even passing attention to the news can see the way the story of HUAC, government censorship, and media complicity remains painfully relevant, but telling that story in color and live onstage drives it home with more urgency.

And look, does Good Night, and Good Luck need to make that even more obvious with a montage of decades of news coverage since Murrow’s death, culminating in Elon Musk’s fascist salute? Maybe not, but there’s a real catharsis in hearing an entire theater audience boo that shit. Even if Clooney’s performance isn’t as polished as Strathairn’s, he’s the exact person I want so-called liberal cringe from right now. Broadway prides itself on being progressive, but a look at the political donations of some top producers muddles that somewhat. I’m always glad to see a piece of work that’s as focused and righteously angry as this play is—that more than justifies its existence.

Movie or play: This is so clearly a “both” situation for me, and a great reminder of what these different mediums can bring to the table. I can’t promise to not be a hater about movie-to-play adaptations going forward, but I’ll try to keep a slightly more open mind.

Glengarry Glen Ross

Kieran Culkin as Ricky Roma and Bob Odenkirk as Shelley Levene in Glengarry Glen Ross. Photo by Emilio Madrid.

I know, I know. But I warned you that I was bending the rules here. Yes, Glengarry Glen Ross began its life as a David Mamet play, with the original Broadway production earning Joe Mantegna a Tony for his performance as Ricky Roma. I’d just argue that people are probably more familiar with the 1992 film, which added the scene for Alec Baldwin that gave us “coffee’s for closers.” Arguably the line most associated with Glengarry Glen Ross, and it’s not in the play at all! The movie also got Al Pacino a well-deserved Oscar nod for playing Roma, and Jack Lemmon’s indelible performance as Shelley Levene inspired two characters on The Simpsons. Now that’s impact.

I was looking forward to the play because the movie is good enough to overcome my feelings about David Mamet, and the cast of the current Broadway production is a murderer’s row of guys I like, including Kieran Culkin, Bob Odenkirk, Bill Burr, and Michael McKean. Now having seen it, my hot take is that it’s pretty good. The play is a tight and effective piece of work, and with a strong cast, it’s hard to fuck up. I haven’t seen any other productions, so I can’t say for certain that this one doesn’t do anything different, but it’s quite straightforward. And that’s fine—I don’t think Glengarry Glen Ross needs to be high-concept.

All that being said, there are reasons it never moves past pretty good. Chief among them is a miscast Culkin, whom I really do love, but who reads as too young for the part. He’s not too young! I’m pretty sure he’s the exact same age as Cannavale was during the last production. But especially in the context of this cast, he feels out of place, and he’s never all that convincing as the ruthless smooth talker Roma is supposed to be. This is a role that has netted two Tony Awards and an Oscar nod, and Culkin notably wasn’t even nommed. Beyond that, the direction is maybe too tight—the conclusion feels rushed in a way that undercuts the gut punch of its final moments, leaving me a little cold.

Movie or play: I don’t regret seeing the current Broadway production, mostly for Odenkirk and Burr, who are both so good. At the same time, the movie is the better version in almost every way, and significantly less expensive to rent than snagging a ticket to the play.

Not just about cats

Believe the hype.

The cast of Cats: The Jellicle Ball. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

Has there ever been a more devastating read than Roy Cohn’s summation of Cats in Angels in America? “It’s about cats.” Well, probably. The line echoes Andrew Lloyd Webber’s explanation to Harold Prince (“Hal, this is just about cats”), and he probably didn’t intend for that to be a dismissal. Still, the Tony Kushner quote has long been my association with the musical, a reminder to never try to find any real meaning in the show. It’s just not that deep.

Generally speaking, this is helpful guidance when seeing Cats. You can focus on the dancing. You can focus on the silly names (T.S. Eliot kind of snapped with Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer). You can focus on whichever beltress has been tasked with singing “Memory.” For me, the notorious 2019 film adaptation—a movie which you can’t prove did not cause the pandemic—was really the turning point on Cats. It was so stupid and ugly that I was forced to imprint on it. It made me feel certain that the best this show can be is a glorious mess, and truthfully, there are few things I love more.

Then I saw Cats: The Jellicle Ball, and something shifted. Cats was suddenly… good. Urgent, alive, imbued with a profundity I could never have expected. The high-concept approach was not gimmicky but essential. And all memories of Ian McKellen lapping up milk, the infamous “Butthole Cut,” and James Corden were instantly wiped from my mind. It took over 40 years, but this is the way Cats was always meant to be seen.

Co-directed by Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch, PAC NYC’s production of the ALW musical moves the story from London alleyways to a New York drag ball, with the titular felines voguing their way down the runway as they vie for 10’s across the board (and a trip to the Heaviside Layer). It’s such a seamless adaptation that it makes you wonder why no one had thought of it before. Of course, it’s quite possible that others had, when you consider the unfortunate reality that mainstream theater has generally been more welcoming to anthropomorphized cats than to Black and brown queer people.

Cats: The Jellicle Ball doesn’t merely feature queer people; it overwhelms the audience with queer joy, something that few shows even tap into. The vibes are impeccable, and the crowd responds accordingly. Theatergoers encouraged to be reactive still tend to hold back, and you can feel a bit of that hesitation as the production ramps up. By the second act, though, the audience is punctuating their cheers with clacking fans and leaping to their feet after a perfectly executed death drop. The Jellicle Ball has an inescapable pull, and letting yourself fall into it is pure theatrical bliss.

Junior LaBeija as Gus and Shereen Pimentel as Jellylorum in Cats: The Jellicle Ball. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

But the queer joy of the production isn’t what surprised me—it’s the way this Cats is suddenly about something. By giving a silly show a very real cultural context, the adapters have created something profoundly moving.

After a series of projections introducing the audience to the Founding House Mothers, we meet Gus the Theatre Cat. He’s played by Junior LaBeija, a member of the House of LaBeija for over 50 years. Suddenly his song is imbued with history—real history, not cat history—and the respect and reverence from the younger performers feel earned. I think there are plenty of reasons to appreciate Cats when it’s just about cats, but it’s hard to argue that it doesn’t hit harder when it has meaning.

The casting across the board—which includes performers of all genders, many of whom have a background in ballroom—speaks to the authenticity that makes this Cats such an achievement. You could say the same for the choreography by Omari Wiles and Arturo Lyons, who also come from the scene, and who say in their program note, “We accepted the opportunity to choreograph this reimagination of Cats to center Ballroom culture.” This attention to detail and care sets a new standard for high-concept productions—and yes, for Cats itself.

For those of us who do appreciate trash, rest assured that there’s room for all interpretations of the material, even if The Jellicle Ball has instantly established itself as the best one. We still have Rebel Wilson’s Jennyanydots, and no one can take that away from us. But don’t miss your opportunity to see a fabulous, stirring, and completely transformative production of one of the most successful musicals of all time—and maybe keep your fingers crossed for a “now and forever” Broadway transfer.

Cats: The Jellicle Ball runs through August 11 at PAC NYC. Buy tickets here.

10 performances I love that weren't nominated for Tonys

Only nine were eligible, but that's neither here nor there.

Corey Cott as Bobby in The Heart of Rock and Roll. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there were kind of a lot of Broadway shows this past year. Some people—not me, obviously, people who are much ruder—might say it was a season of quantity over quality. Yes, there were a fair number of semi-forgettable plays and musicals that came and went, but there were certainly some standouts. And in the shows that weren’t quite worthy of commendation, there were often performances that elevated the material.

Even in an overstuffed year, many of these actors were nominated for Tonys. But not all! There are seven nominees for Best Featured Actress in a Musical, and I’d argue that still isn’t enough. With that in mind, I’ve decided to take a moment to shout out some of the performances I’m still thinking about that didn’t earn nominations. This isn’t me making a case for swapping out any of the actual nominees—it’s just an excuse to celebrate a handful of actors I want to celebrate.

And yes, one of the actors on my list is Tony nominated for a different performance, and was not eligible for the one I’m singling out, but this is my list and, frankly, I can do what I want.

1. Ricky Ubeda, Illinoise

Ricky Ubeda as Henry and the cast of Illinoise. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

I’m grateful to be an Outer Critics Circle member for many reasons, including the fact that we nominated Ricky Ubeda for his stunning work in Illinoise. So You Think You Can Dance fans know that his dancing is undeniable, but Ubeda’s performance in Illinoise goes beyond his effortless movements—so much of it is carried in his face, which conveys joy, love, grief, and painful longing without him ever uttering a word.

2. Brent Comer, The Outsiders

Brody Grant as Ponyboy, Jason Schmidt as Soda, and Brent Comer as Darry in The Outsiders. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

The cast recording of The Outsiders has solidified something for me: The Darry songs are the best ones in the show. That’s in large part thanks to Brent Comer, who, yes, sounds incredible, but also beautifully captures his character’s precarious position as a young man suddenly thrust into a parenting role he wasn’t ready for. There’s so much exhaustion and frustration, but also a tenderness that radiates between all three Curtis brothers.

3. and 4. Chris Stack and Andrew R. Butler, Stereophonic

We are so overdue for a Best Ensemble Tony, because as much as I’m delighted that five of the seven actors in Stereophonic got Tony noms, the remaining two should be there, too. (Maybe just a separate category for Best Performance in Stereophonic, not that I could pick.) Chris Stack has a less showy part, but his restraint makes those moments where Simon is pushed past his breaking point resonate harder. And Andrew R. Butler’s comic timing and idiosyncrasies break up the play’s tension for a much-needed release.

5. Arielle Jacobs, Here Lies Love

Arielle Jacobs as Imelda Marcos and the cast of Here Lies Love. Photo by Billy Bustamante, Matthew Murphy, and Evan Zimmerman.

The trick of Here Lies Love is in the way it lures the audience into compassion for Imelda Marcos before twisting the knife. In the Broadway production, the show’s success in doing so had much to do with the performance of Arielle Jacobs, who finds the humanity in a young Imelda without sacrificing her edge. That makes her transformation into ruthlessness both emotionally affecting and completely inevitable.

6. Krystal Joy Brown, Merrily We Roll Along

Krystal Joy Brown as Gussie Carnegie and Jonathan Groff as Franklin Shepard in Merrily We Roll Along. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

There’s been endless (justified!) celebration of the core trio of Merrily We Roll Along—Jonathan Groff, Daniel Radcliffe, and Linsday Mendez, all Tony-nominated—that the production’s other actors haven’t gotten nearly enough attention. Among them, Krystal Joy Brown, who gives Gussie so much nuance beyond diva with a nasty streak. Tracking the way she changes as the show moves backwards in time is one of this Merrily’s subtler pleasures.

7. Corey Cott, The Heart of Rock and Roll

I refuse to apologize for how much I love this very silly Huey Lewis musical, which went completely ignored by the Tonys. I get it, and yet I would have thrown a little love Corey Cott’s way. He really is a powerhouse on that stage: funny, sexy, vocally insane. And yes, it helps that The Heart of Rock and Roll keeps him sleeveless more often than not. (Best Featured Actor in a Musical for Corey Cott’s Arms.)

8. Susan Pourfar, Mary Jane

Rachel McAdams as Mary Jane and Susan Pourfar as Chaya in Mary Jane. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

I saw Mary Jane Off-Broadway years ago, with the always exceptional Carrie Coon in the title role. Rachel McAdams is also excellent and would be my pick for Best Actress this year. But the performance that has stuck with me across both productions is Susan Pourfar’s, who plays two different overwhelmed mothers who connect with Mary Jane. Her two scenes might be my favorites in the play.

9. Justin Guarini, Once Upon a One More Time

Justin Guarini as Prince Charming in Once Upon a One More Time. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

How lucky are we that Justin Guarini has taken his considerable talents to theater? His performance of “Circus” in Once Upon a One More Time is something I still think about, maybe more often than is normal. But it was just that good! Guarini is always so funny, so charming, so thoroughly committed that he can sell just about anything. And while I really enjoyed the Britney Spears jukebox musical, that’s the kind of actor you need to make the material work.

10. William Jackson Harper, Primary Trust*

Yes, with an asterisk. I know, I know. Not a play eligible for Tonys, and William Jackson Harper was nominated this year for Uncle Vanya. And yet! I will always take an opportunity to extol the virtues of Primary Trust, a play I have written about before and that has since won a well-deserved Pulitzer. Harper is truly one of my favorite working actors, and his work in Primary Trust was revelatory—complicated, vulnerable, heartbreaking. I’d like to think his Vanya nom is at least a little bit for his performance as Kenneth.