this week in broadway

LEOPOLDSTADT

You might experience déjà vu when watching Sir Tom Stoppard’s Leopoldstadt on Broadway (photo by Joan Marcus)

LEOPOLDSTADT
Longacre Theatre
220 West 48th St. between Broadway & Eighth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through March 12, $74-$318
leopoldstadtplay.com

The Broadway premiere of Sir Tom Stoppard’s Olivier Award–winning Leopoldstadt has just about everything going for it: The exquisite production features a terrific cast of more than thirty actors, stunning sets by Richard Hudson, elegant costumes by Brigitte Reiffenstuel, superb lighting by Neil Austin, strong sound and original music by Adam Cork, and powerful direction by Patrick Marber. So why is it ultimately unsatisfying?

Named for the second municipal district of Vienna where a tight-knit community of Jews lived, the play is based on real events that Stoppard’s family experienced. Yet it was not until 1993 that Stoppard, born Tomáš Sträussler in the Czech Republic in 1937, learned that he had several Jewish relatives who had been killed in concentration camps during the Holocaust. The play’s narrative runs from December 1899 to January 1890, the spring of 1924, November 1938, to 1955 as the Merz-Jakobovicz clan goes from prosperity to persecution.

The story begins with family and servants readying for Christmas, including decorating the tree. Prophetically, the first lines uttered are “That’s mine!” by young Rosa (Pearl Scarlett Gold), followed by young Pauli (Drew Squire) declaring, “And that’s mine!” In a span of a few decades, the family will lose nearly everything.

The men discuss Freud, religion, and marrying out of the faith. Assimiliation is clearly the theme. Eva Merz Jakobovicz (Caissie Levy) says, “We’re Jews. Bad Jews but pure-blood sons of Abraham, and Ludwig’s parents would have nothing to do with us if their grandson didn’t look Jewish in his bath. In fact, if I’d had myself Christianised like my brother, Ludwig wouldn’t have married me, would you, be honest.” Erudite mathematician Ludwig (Brandon Uranowitz), Eva’s husband, responds, “I would when they were dead.” Eva asks, “Is that a compliment?”

The Jewish Merz-Jakobovicz family decorates their Christmas tree in Leopoldstadt (photo by Joan Marcus)

A moment later, Hermann Merz (David Krumholtz), Wilma Jakobovicz Kloster (Jenna Augen) and Ludwig’s brother, married to the Christian Gretl, (Faye Castelow), tells Ludwig, “You seem to think becoming a Catholic is like joining the Jockey Club.” Ludwig quickly retorts, “It’s not unlike, except that anyone can become a Catholic.”

To fill in the family’s background further, Stoppard has Wilma accuse Hermann of disdaining Grannie and Grandpa Jakobovicz. “You’re snobby about their accent and using Yiddish words, and dressing like immigrants from some village in Galicia,” she proclaims. “There’s too much of the shtetl about them for you.”

As the years pass by, there are affairs and betrayals, the birth of new generations, key business decisions, such Jewish rituals as a Passover Seder and a bris, the coming of the Nazis, and a gathering of Holocaust survivors.

While the discovery of his Jewish heritage deeply affected Stoppard (Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, The Invention of Love, The Coast of Utopia), who has won four Tonys, three Oliviers, and an Oscar, Leopoldstadt adds nothing new to the genre of Holocaust-related dramas. Most of the scenes are nobly rendered, but I felt like I had seen too many of them before, especially when Umzugshauptmannsleiter Schmidt (Corey Brill) invades the family home and, dare I say, a word entered my mind that it rarely does in Stoppard’s work: cliché.

From Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah, Ken Burns’s The U.S. and the Holocaust, and the 1978 Holocaust television miniseries to Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List, Roberto Benigni’s Life Is Beautiful, Arthur Miller’s Incident at Vichy, and Jane Campion’s The Pianist, the oppression of the Jews by the Third Reich has been explored from multiple angles and emotions, each adding fresh insight, which is disappointingly lacking in Leopoldstadt.

In 1938, Ernst (Aaron Neil), who is married to Wilma, discusses a trio of paintings by Gustav Klimt (one of which the family owns): “A dream is the fulfilment in disguise of a suppressed wish. The rational is at the mercy of the irrational. Barbarism will not be eradicated by culture. The last time I saw Freud, the most profound man I know, I asked him, ‘Yes, but why the Jews?’ He said, ‘I don’t know, Ernst. I wasn’t going to ask you, but — why the Jews?’” It’s a question that’s been asked over and over, and answered; I was expecting more from Stoppard.

While technically a marvel and certainly worth seeing, the widely hailed Leopoldstadt does not reach the pantheon of its predecessors, neither in its genre nor its author’s oeuvre. Even midlevel Stoppard is an event to be treasured, but don’t be surprised when you have déjà vu at the Longacre Theatre.

GABRIEL BYRNE: WALKING WITH GHOSTS

Gabriel Byrne points to key moments in his life in Walking with Ghosts (photo by Emilio Madrid)

GABRIEL BYRNE: WALKING WITH GHOSTS
Music Box Theatre
239 West Forty-Fifth St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through December 30, $58-$288
gabrielbyrneonbroadway.com

Recounting a dream at the beginning of his one-man show, Walking with Ghosts, Gabriel Byrne remembers seeing himself as “the man I am now longing to see the world as a child again, when every sight and sound was a marvel.” He laments how the places of his youth, “the chapel, the cinema, the factory, the fields are all gone.” He admits, “And I feel like an intruder in my own past. Emigrant, immigrant, exile. Belonging everywhere but nowhere at all.”

Adapted from Byrne’s widely acclaimed 2021 memoir, the play affirms the Tony, Grammy, and Emmy nominee belongs on the stage and on the big and small screen, a humble actor of immense talent who is instantly likable, winning our hearts from the very start. If only he dug a little deeper, reaching for our souls.

Casually dressed in a button-down shirt, slacks, vest, and jacket (the costumes are by Joan O’Clery), Byrne takes us through several dozen episodes from his life organized as individual, chronological scenes that don’t always flow seamlessly one into the next. Byrne ambles slowly around Sinéad McKenna’s spare set, consisting of a desk, a chair, three large frames, and a shattered mirror as Byrne paints his verbal self-portrait taking a long, intimate look at himself. McKenna’s soft lighting occasionally creates an upside-down shadow of Byrne on the facade above the stage, immersed in an amorphous primordial cloud. As much as we learn about Byrne over the course of two acts and two hours and fifteen minutes (with intermission), there is much more we do not learn. He is a superb storyteller in the classic Irish tradition; early on, he recalls taking the bus on his first day of school and seeing a drunk man singing. “That man, my mother said, is a famous writer. His name is Brendan Behan, and he’s known all over the world. And he’s on the wrong bus, the poor creature.”

Behan had a wild abandon, but Byrne rarely breaks out of his steady demeanor, whether discussing sexual abuse he suffered at the hands of a priest, seeing a friend of his drown, drudging through a series of jobs, or having high tea with his mother at a fancy hotel. Each episode is given equal weight, although he does perk up when he talks about film and theater, going to the movies with his grandmother and joining a troupe of amateur actors. “I realized then I had been so lonely, and this new sense of belonging and purpose overwhelmed me to tears,” he wistfully explains. “You are welcome here, they had said. Welcome. I felt at last that I belonged.”

Gabriel Byrne considers the choices he’s made in one-man show (photo by Emilio Madrid)

Byrne doesn’t delve into his many successes — from Miller’s Crossing, The Usual Suspects, and Jindabyne on film to In Treatment, Madigan Men, and The War of the Worlds on television and his Eugene O’Neill Broadway trilogy of Long Day’s Journey into Night, A Moon for the Misbegotten, and A Touch of the Poet — but instead focuses on smaller key moments in his career, without name-dropping who he’s worked with or what movies or shows he has been in. He does ruminate on his breakthrough, on the popular Irish television series The Riordans, and he regales us with the night he spent drinking with Richard Burton, but he doesn’t mention the name of the eight-hour film they did together, 1983’s Wagner, or the other members of the cast, which included Vanessa Redgrave, Marthe Keller, Sir John Gielgud, Sir Laurence Olivier, and Sir Ralph Richardson.

The seventy-two-year-old Byrne also avoids most of his personal life as an adult, never bringing up his relationships with women (he’s been married twice) or his three children. Perhaps he didn’t want to rehash anything that was previously in his 1994 autobiography, Pictures in My Head, and Pat Collins’s 2008 documentary, Gabriel Byrne: Stories from Home, but the gaps are clear.

Directed by three-time Emmy winner Lonny Price (Sunset Boulevard, Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill), Walking with Ghosts has an elegance and charm about it, but in this case the whole is not greater than the sum of its parts; there are excellent chapters, but we don’t get enough of the bigger picture.

COST OF LIVING

Eddie (David Zayas) and Ani (Katy Sullivan) face adversity in Cost of Living (photo © Jeremy Daniel)

COST OF LIVING
Samuel J. Friedman Theatre
261 West Forty-Seventh St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through November 6, $74-$298
www.manhattantheatreclub.com

When I saw Manhattan Theatre Club’s production of Martyna Majok’s Cost of Living at New York City Center’s Stage I five and a half years ago, I did not anticipate that it would win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. I also never imagined that the show, which I called “a tender, emotional play about four lonely people seeking connections,” would eventually transfer to Broadway. But Cost of Living has made a terrific transition to MTC’s Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, with all its tenderness, emotion — and sense of humor — fully intact. In fact, it is now even better.

The play is once again directed by Obie winner Jo Bonney on Wilson Chin’s set, which rotates between the homes of John (Gregg Mozgala), a Harvard grad working on his PhD at Princeton and confined to a wheelchair with cerebral palsy, and Ani (Katy Sullivan), a quadriplegic also in a wheelchair.

While John is looking for a caregiver and interviews and hires Jess (Kara Young), a Princeton grad scrambling to make a living by working multiple jobs and who assures John that despite her slight build she can handle his needs, Ani initially refuses help from her ex-husband, Eddie (David Zayas), a former truck driver with a new girlfriend.

The play opens with Eddie sitting at a bar, talking to an unseen person in what is essentially a long, compelling monologue delivered directly to the audience. “The shit that happens is not to be understood. That’s from the Bible,” he says. “That life is good for people. I was thankful for every day they ain’t invented yet the trucker-robots. That life is good. The road. Sky. The scenery. Except the loneliness. Except in the case of all the, y’know, loneliness. This was what my wife was good for. Not that this was the only thing.”

John (Gregg Mozgala) and Jess (Kara Young) come to an agreement in Cost of Living (photo © Jeremy Daniel)

The loneliness and vulnerability experienced by all four characters is palpable, expressed most effectively in scenes of back-to-back caretaking. In the first, Jess washes John in the shower, moving him out of his chair and then back into it, followed by Eddie giving Ani a bath.

Describing his sensations, John tells Jess that his body feels as if he’s constantly under attack. “That’s what it’s like. Under my skin. From underneath my skin. Like people hitting me from beneath my skin. And that’s what you’ll be working with. Every morning. Is touching, shaving, undressing, washing, and clothing — that. That’s what I’m like.”

Meanwhile, Eddie visits Ani on a day her nurse hasn’t shown up, so Eddie asks Ani to hire him instead. “What do you think’s gonna happen you come take care of me a few hours a day? Huh?” she spurts out. “You brush my teeth a couple mornings, dump my bedpan a few times, and BOOM, conscience — fuck-shit, clap yer hands when I say Boom. . . . Yer not doin’ penance on me.”

The separate storylines merge at the end in an uneasy finale that acknowledges that we all encounter tremendously painful issues in life, regardless of our physical or psychological situations, which is further established during the curtain call.

Both Mozgala (Teenage Dick, Diagnosis of a Faun), who has cerebral palsy, and Sullivan (The Long Red Road, Finish Line), who was born without lower legs, return from the original cast, and both give intense, superb performances again, neither one pulling any punches. Young (Clyde’s, Halfway Bitches Go to Heaven) displays a tenacious fragility as Jess, who might be getting in over her head, while Zayas (Dexter, Anna in the Tropics) proves once more that he is one of New York City’s finest actors, balancing toughness with a sweet gentleness that shines through. Jeff Croiter’s lighting and Rob Kaplowitz’s sound capture the pervasive loneliness playing out onstage.

“Self-pity has little currency in these characters’ worlds. Humor, however, has much,” Majok (Ironbound, Sanctuary City) explains in a script note. Her and Bonney’s (Father Comes Home from the Wars, Fucking A) approach feels honest and unambiguous, as summarized in this exchange between Jess and John:

Jess: Sorry, I never worked with the, differently-abled —
John: Don’t do that.
Jess: What?
John: Don’t call it that.
Jess: Why, I —
John: Don’t call it differently-abled.
Jess: Shit, is that not the right term?
John: It’s fucking retarded. . . .
Jess: So what do I, how do I, refer to you?
John: Are you planning on talking about me?
Jess: No.
John: Why not? I’m very interesting.

The Broadway debut of Cost of Living, which was expanded from Majok’s 2015 short play John, Who’s Here from Cambridge, is a lot more than interesting, and you’ll be sure to be talking about it long after seeing it.

BOOK LAUNCH: TRANSFORMING SPACE OVER TIME

Who: Beowulf Boritt, James Lapine, Susan Stroman, Elliott Forrest
What: Book launch
Where: The Drama Book Shop, 266 West Thirty-Ninth St. between Eighth & Ninth Aves.
When: Tuesday, October 11, $35 (includes copy of book), 7:00
Why: “My goal is to couple thematically evocative visuals with a considered transformation of the physical space as the story plays out. Set design is a kinetic sculpture that is constantly being manipulated to enhance the emotions and narrative of the story: transforming space over time. Thematic evocation and spatial transformation are my tools to create an intellectual concept to guide the scenery and support the story. Once that concept is clear in my mind, I can envision the style of the set: literally, what it will look like. When the process goes well, the frosting really does enhance the cake.”

So writes Tony- and Obie-winning set designer extraordinaire Beowulf Boritt in his new book, Transforming Space Over Time: Set Design and Visual Storytelling with Broadway’s Legendary Directors (Globe Pequot / Applause, August 2022, $34.95). The tome features conversations between Boritt (Act One, The Scottsboro Boys, The Last Five Years) and six theater greats he has worked with either on Broadway or off: James Lapine, Kenny Leon, Hal Prince, Susan Stroman, Jerry Zaks, and Stephen Sondheim. The book is a celebration of the art of creation and collaboration; it will have its launch October 11 at 7:00 at the Drama Book Shop, where Boritt will be joined by Lapine, Stroman, and Peabody-winning moderator Elliott Forrest. Tickets are limited and include a copy of the book.

THEATER TALKS — DEATH OF A SALESMAN: A CONVERSATION WITH WENDELL PIERCE, SHARON D. CLARKE, ANDRÉ DE SHIELDS, AND MIRANDA CROMWELL

Who: Wendell Pierce, Sharon D. Clarke, André De Shields, Miranda Cromwell, Salamishah Tillet
What: Panel discussion on new Death of a Salesman revival
Where: Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture (NYPL), 515 Malcolm X Blvd., and online
When: Monday, October 3, free with RSVP, 7:00
Why: Lee J. Cobb, George C. Scott, Dustin Hoffman, Brian Dennehy, and Philip Seymour Hoffman have all starred as Willy Loman in Broadway productions of Arthur Miller’s Pulitzer Prize–winning 1949 American classic, Death of a Salesman. You can now add to that prestigious list Wendell Pierce, in the latest Broadway revival, now in previews for an October 9 opening at the Hudson Theatre. The cast features Pierce and Sharon D. Clarke as Willy’s wife, Linda — both won Oliviers for their performances in the West End production — along with André De Shields as Ben, Khris Davis as Biff, and McKinley Belcher III as Happy, the first all-Black Loman family on the Great White Way.

On October 3 at 7:00, Pierce (The Wire, The Piano Lesson), Clarke (Holby City, Caroline, or Change), and Tony and Emmy winner De Shields (Hadestown, The Full Monty) will be joined by director Miranda Cromwell (Magic Elves, Pigeon English) and moderator and Pulitzer Prize winner Salamishah Tillet for a discussion at the NYPL’s Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture; presented in conjunction with the 92nd St. Y’s Unterberg Poetry Center, the free event is being held in person and online, and advance registration is required. “So many of the elements of the play are fundamentally questioning of the American dream, and when you put that through the perspective of the Black experience, that enriches it,” Cromwell said in a statement. “The obstacles are harder, the stakes become higher.”

TOM STOPPARD IN CONVERSATION WITH DANIEL KEHLMANN

Who: Tom Stoppard, Daniel Kehlmann
What: Conversations & Performances discussion
Where: Unterberg Poetry Center, 92nd St. Y, Kaufmann Concert Hall, 92Y online
When: Sunday, September 18, in person $15-$31, online $20, 4:30
Why: “Anti-Semitism is a political fact. It’s a bit soon for it to be a party platform, but when it is there will be Austrians to vote for it,” a character states in Tom Stoppard’s new Olivier Award–winning play, Leopoldstadt, which opens October 2 at the Longacre Theatre on Broadway. On September 18, Stoppard will be at the 92nd St. Y to inaugurate the eighty-fourth anniversary of the Unterberg Poetry Center — a year younger than he is — to discuss the play, which was partly inspired by his family history. The British playwright and screenwriter will be joined by German and Austrian author and translator Daniel Kehlmann, who has written such novels as You Should Have Left, Tyll, and Fame and translated Leopoldstadt into German.

Stoppard, born Tomáš Sträussler in 1937 in what is now the Czech Republic, is arguably the greatest living playwright of the last sixty years; his works include Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, Travesties, The Real Thing, Arcadia, The Invention of Love, and The Coast of Utopia, earning four Tonys and two Oliviers for Best Play. Sir Thomas has also won a Best Original Screenplay Oscar for Shakespeare in Love. His latest play, his most personal, begins in Vienna in 1899, in the Jewish quarter known as Leopoldstadt, and features more than three dozen characters; directed by Tony and Oscar nominee Patrick Marber (Closer, Notes on a Scandal), it is currently scheduled to run through January 29, 2023.

INTO THE WOODS

Into the Woods features a dazzling all-star cast with superstar understudies (photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

INTO THE WOODS
St. James Theatre
246 West Forty-Fourth St.
Tuesday – Sunday through January 8, $69-$159
intothewoodsbway.com

At intermission of the spectacular revival of Into the Woods, I was heading outside for a breath of fresh air when I saw a notice posted on the doors that the show was not yet over, that there was a second act. At first I wondered who would leave the theater at this point, but then I thought about how nearly perfect the first act was, how everything seemed to be wrapped up in a neat little package, with everybody onstage and in the audience elated and satisfied.

But in James Lapine and Stephen Sondheim’s devilishly clever show, “happily ever after” is a misnomer, more of a warning than a coda. As the Narrator (David Patrick Kelly) had ominously just informed us, “To. Be. Continued.” Everyone’s jubilation is about to come tumbling down, like a giant falling from the sky — although one can find plenty of exhilaration in the dark side as well.

Inspired by Bruno Bettelheim’s 1976 Freudian book The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales, Lapine and Sondheim’s musical debuted at San Diego’s Old Globe in 1986 and moved to Broadway the following year, earning ten Tony nominations and winning three, losing the Best Musical award to The Phantom of the Opera. This new version, which premiered at New York City Center’s “Encores!” series in May, has made a super-smooth transition to the St. James, maintaining its brilliant streamlined adaptation.

The nearly-three-hour show, which has been extended through October 16, is a mashup of fairytale favorites with some added central characters. The stage is dominated by a fifteen-piece orchestra conducted by Rob Berman, who leads the musicians through Sondheim’s complicated, unpredictable score. The actors spend most of the show on a narrow, horizontal section at the front of the stage, with minimal props, highlighted by miniature versions of their forest homes dangling from the ceiling, teasingly just out of reach. In addition, they occasionally wander through the orchestra, running around and hiding behind white birch trees that have come down from above.

The story is built around three wishes. Cinderella (Phillipa Soo) is suffering through a miserable existence, terrorized by her stepmother (Nancy Opel) and stepsisters, Florinda (Brooke Ishibashi) and Lucinda (Ta’Nika Gibson), while her father (Albert Guerzon) offers her no support. “I wish to go to the festival — and the ball . . . more than anything,” Cinderella sings, referring to a grand party being thrown by the handsome prince (Gavin Creel).

Jack (Cole Thompson, although I saw Alex Joseph Grayson) and his mother (Aymee Garcia) are worried that they might lose their farm, so the mother sends Jack off to sell his beloved old and ragged cow, Milky White (Kennedy Kanagawa). “I wish my cow would give us some milk, more than anything,” Jack croons.

And the Baker (Brian D’Arcy James; I saw Jason Forbach) and his wife (Sara Bareilles) are desperate to have a baby. “I wish . . . more than the moon . . . more than life . . . I wish we might have a child,” the couple, invented for the show, opine.

Milky White (Kennedy Kanagawa) sits in the back as the Baker (Brian D’Arcy James) and his wife (Sara Bareilles) come up with a plan (photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

Other familiar and new characters also show up in the threatening forest. Little Red Ridinghood (Julia Lester; I saw Delphi Borich) stops at the bakery to bring some treats to her granny (Annie Golden) but better be aware of the hungry Wolf (Creel). “Into the woods / to bring some bread / to Granny who / is sick in bed. / Never can tell / what lies ahead. / For all I know, she’s already dead,” Red declares. Rapunzel (Alysia Velez) has been locked up in a tower, where another handsome prince (Joshua Henry) seeks to rescue her. A Mysterious Man (Kelly) pops up from time to time, telling riddles and positing, “When first I appear, I seem delirious. But when explained, I am nothing serious.”

Everything is set in motion by the Witch (Patina Miller), who lives next door to the Baker and his wife. She had cursed the Baker’s family — which includes the sister he never knew he had, named Rapunzel — deeming it impossible for them to have children, but she now offers to reverse it in exchange for “the cow as white as milk,” “the cape as red as blood,” “the hair as yellow as corn,” and “the slipper as pure as gold.” She promises, “Bring me these / before the chime / of midnight / in three days’ time, / and you shall have, / I guarantee, / a child as perfect / as child can be. / Go to the wood!”

And off they go, into the woods, where they have to determine how far to compromise their morals in order to acquire the four elements that will allow them to finally have a baby. These decisions ring true with audience members, who, in our own lives, regularly face ethical decisions. “Into the woods / without regret, / the choice is made, / the task is set,” the Baker, his wife, Cinderella, Jack, and Jack’s mother sing in unison. “Into the woods / to get my (our) wish, / I don’t care how, / the time is now.”

But when a widowed Giant (voiced by Golden) comes down from her haven in the sky to avenge her husband’s death, everyone’s future is destined to not be so happy after all.

In the last ten years, I’ve seen two previous adaptations of Into the Woods, from the Public Theater at the Delacorte in 2012 and Fiasco Theater for Roundabout at the Laura Pels in 2015. Both were lovely, memorable productions that were very different from each other but thoroughly satisfying in their unique approaches to a beloved musical.

First-time Broadway director Lear deBessonet (Pump Boys and Dinettes, transFigures), the head of Encores! and the founder of Public Works, and choreographer Lorin Latarro (Fiasco’s Merrily We Roll Along, Assassins for Encores!), expertly guide the actors across the stage, up and down the handful of steps, and through the trees, making the most of the tight quarters; the charming scenic design is by David Rockwell, with lighting by Tyler Micoleau, sound by Scott Lehrer and Alex Neumann, and lovely music direction by Rob Berman. The tasty costumes are by Andrea Hood, with hair, wig, and makeup design by the extraordinary Cookie Jordan.

The Wolf (Gavin Creel) has an evil plan in store for Little Red Ridinghood (Julia Lester) (photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

The cast is a true ensemble; several friends and colleagues saw different actors in key roles than I did, and everyone raved about them all, whether the understudy or the award-winning star. But two performers do stand out.

Miller brings down the house when she belts out “Last Midnight,” driving the crowd into a frenzy as she cries out, “It’s the last midnight, / it’s the last verse. / Now, before it’s past midnight, / I’m leaving you my last curse: / I’m leaving you alone.” Miller won a Tony as Leading Player in Diane Paulus’s 2013 Broadway revival of Pippin, but I missed her when I went; I instead saw the wonderful Stephanie Pope, who has had quite a career of her own.

But Kanagawa nearly steals the show as Milky White. Puppet designer James Ortiz (2022 Drama Desk Award winner for Best Puppet Design for The Skin of Our Teeth) has created a tender and fragile cow out of cardboard — part Slinky, part accordion — operated by Kanagawa, who had never worked with puppets before. He masterfully moves Milky White as the cow’s destiny is threatened, making sure we feel every emotion in her static foam eyes, from joy to sadness, as if it were a living creature in front of us. It’s a bravura performance that is receiving Tony buzz.

“If we hope to live not just from moment to moment, but in true consciousness of our existence, then our greatest need and most difficult achievement is to find meaning in our lives,” Bettelheim writes in the introduction of The Uses of Enchantment. “Our positive feelings give us the strength to develop our rationality; only hope for the future can sustain us in the adversities we unavoidably encounter.”

This latest adaptation of Into the Woods zeroes in on how Lapine’s book and Sondheim’s music and lyrics form a fairy tale for both kids and adults, about human beings’ instinctual desires, alongside their darkest fears. And don’t worry about the second act; it turns out that happily ever after is always within reach.