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Broadway’s Girl From the North Country Wraps Us Tenderly in a Worn Coat of Sadness and Beauty



This night was a long time coming. In March of 2020, I was scheduled to see this show on its press night, a night that would soon beknown as the night the lights went out on Broadway. I had boarded a plane on March 12th, 2020 to fly from Toronto to NYC in the late morning. I was finishing up my last edit on a review of the Broadway musical Six that was to open that night, finalizing my schedule at the office the next day, and looking forward to flying to London, England Friday night to see a ton of shows almost every night while there, followed by a long relaxing weekend in Madrid. Good times were coming, I thought, somewhat nervously, as I flipped through the news items on my iPhone while waiting to board my flight. But when I landed in NYC, I was met by a very different landscape and schedule. “Hold that review“, I was told, “the show isn’t going to open tonight, as Broadway is shutting down in response to the pandemic“. There would be no trip to Madrid, London, or the West End Theatres. There would be no more in-person face-to-face psychotherapy sessions for a long time coming. And there would be no Girl From the North Country Broadway show that night. Sorry, John B., we will have to wait, be patient, and hold on tight to our hope and our optimism. Sounds like a stance Bob Dylan and all those compelling characters in Girl From the North Country might resonate with. 

Jeannette Bayardelle and the Cast of Girl From The North Country on Broadway – photo by Matthew Murphy

Filing down the aisle at the gorgeous Belasco Theatre, the company of actors positioned themselves for the journey ahead, all to three’s a crowd. The body language is stiff and uncomfortable, but worn, like an old wool coat, tattered a bit on the edges, with sadness and pain in the physical form putting weighted pressure on their tired spine. It’s an engaging and captivating entry, up onto the stage, and onto Broadway in general. I saw this show before in the fall of 2018, long before any thoughts of a lockdown. It played wide at the Public Theater in downtown NYC, giving space to the energy from side to side. Back then, and now, it filled the air with a deep sense of intimacy and longing that was persuasive. It held our hand, gently and politely, not being too forceful, but not being limp or casual either. It’s a complicated dynamic to be worn out and upright at the same time, but they feed each other, exhaustingly, but that tense fragrance in the air is not all that surprising since the music and lyrics are by the iconic Bob Dylan (Nobel Prize Winner for Literature, 2016), with the (pretty much) always brilliant Conor McPherson (The Weir, The Seafarer) credited with the writing and the passionate direction of this new musical, Girl From the North Country.  Downtown the show attracted a lot of buzz and excitement in the lobby of the Public (me included), especially knowing about the sold-out run at London’s Old Vic and its West End transfer. And now, on that beautiful old stage on Broadway, the achingly beautiful story of a band of frustrated and down-trodden souls struggling to make sense of their lives in a rooming house in Duluth, Minnesota in 1934, finds its equal and its glorious home.  

Matt McGrath, Mare Winningham, and Todd Almond in Girl From The North Country on Broadway – photo by Matthew Murphy

Utilizing Dylan’s inimitable songbook as the emotional core of the piece, the story floats out even tighter, delivering a lyrical poem tinged with misery inside some perfectly orchestrated music and songs, thanks to the music director, Marco Paguia (Broadway’s Everyday Rapture, SpongeBob…), orchestrations, arranger & musical supervisor Simon Hale (Broadway’s Finding Neverland), and music coordinator, Dean Sharenow (Broadway’s The Band’s Visit), who effortlessly and gently blends it all together beautifully with the emotionally ladened movement and dance created with a pure sense of time and place by movement director Lucy Hind (RSC’s Miss Littlewood). The expanded backdrop weighs even heavier on the soul, as love and devotion are wrapped up and drowned along the sidelines. The stage feels constricted and tighter, giving it a strong sense of self and precision, as styled with warmth and compassion by all involved. Epitomized by the caring, but not perfect Dr. Walker, embodied thoughtfully by Robert Joy (Public’s Head of Passes) in a small but important role, the piece floats out to us, gently, like dust being stirred up by the sweeping of an old wooden floor. The particles dance in the angled light from a window, bringing a sad beauty into the space for us all to see and smell.

Mare Winningham and Jay O. Sanders in Girl From The North Country on Broadway – photo by Matthew Murphy

The Girl from the North Country is exactly as I thought it would be from the first visual, but somehow more intimate and emotional.  Filling out the dynamic tableau, an upright piano is tucked into the side and a drum set on the other, with old-fashioned parlor lamps illuminating the cozy thread-bare area perfectly. It feels barren, but folksy with the exactly right amount of dust hanging in the air, thanks to the thoughtful creation by scenic and costume designer Rae Smith (Lincoln Center’s War Horse). Exacting for a musical that sweeps us up as we take in the band and the cast of characters flowing in from all around. Trench coats and old fashioned hats adorn their frames as they make their way through the wet streets to the guest house of Nick Laine, played strongly by Jay O. Sanders (Richard Nelson’s Rhinebeck Panorama) and his far-away but shrewdly observant wife, Elizabeth, portrayed dynamically by the always spectacular Mare Winningham (PH’s Rancho Viejo). Both are tender and tied together, like a rolling stone, just trying to keep everyone alive another day, serving up some warm stew to feed the forlorn and troubled. Elizabeth’s dementia rings true in the space, feeling distracted and appearing absent, albeit clear-eyed and obstinate, especially when it comes to the efforts of Mrs. Neilson, portrayed smoothly by the fantastic Jeannette Bayardelle (Deaf West’s Big River) who seems to help out with everything and more in and around the house. Both create intricate attachments within that framework, showing us who they are at every moment on stage.

Austin Scott and Kimber Elaybe Sprawl in Girl From The North Country on Broadway – photo by Matthew Murphy

The tension arrives at the door when two travelers show up late one night looking for a place to hang their hat and rest their head. Joe Scott is the less talkative one, looking for some quiet and a dry place to sleep, yet finds himself doing battle in a fight that seems utterly pointless and unneeded. It’s a complex moment, but Austin Scott (Broadway’s Hamilton) embodies the captivating Joe with a weight and energy that elicits discomfort and electricity at the same time, heroically taking center stage at the microphone to deliver a knock-down musical performance with ever pivot. He’s magnetic and intriguing, especially when saddling up to the complex and lost Marianne Laine,  portrayed with grace and grit by Kimber Elayne Sprawl (Broadway’s A Bronx Tale). She’s the young found daughter of the guest house owners who find themselves all in a bit of trouble and looking around for an escape. The layering of need inside her frame vibrates out effectively. Solidly determined and defiant, as if she has any say in the matter, she will not be shoved into the arms of her father’s intended savior, the well-off old man, Mr. Perry, played to perfection by the subtle Tom Nelis (Broadway’s Indecent). She will hold out for something else, even if it doesn’t make sense. Her troubled brother, the problematic fighting son of the owners, Gene, played laconically by the engaging Colin Bates (Off-Broadway’s The Effect) has his focus clearly set on a bottle of medicional whiskey but his eye on the desperate and torn Kate Draper, played sweetly in both style and voice by the lovely Caitlin Houlahan (Broadway’s Waitress). She’s making her escape on the arm of another man, all the way to Boston, but can’t quite wrap her head around leaving Gene. 

Caitlin Houlahan and Colton Ryan in Girl From The North Country on Broadway – photo by Matthew Murphy

How does it feel to want another so badly?‘, sing the two, accentuating the song’s emotional core gloriously in front of a pair of old-fashioned microphones, deepening the artistic visual, thanks to the solid sound design by Simon Baker (Broadway/Old Vic’s Groundhog Day). The widescreen backdrop to their attraction engulfs the Belasco, as it does throughout the show, giving gorgeous tableaus and powerful silhouettes that register deep in our collective soul. The two stand, breaking our hearts in moody pools of light and wind-swept horizons, designed with impeccable clarity by Mark Henderson (Broadway’s Les Liaisons Dangereuses). This smooth and gently soulful piece, filled to the brim with desperation and hopelessness, blends compassion with desire, especially when Winningham stunningly sings to be on her own. The rest watch patiently from the edges, as the cast of forlorn characters floats dishearteningly around the surprising songstress giving silent understanding with every shuffle, reminiscent of the 1930’s dust belt of America. “How does it feel?“, and we wonder, and feel their smooth power. 

Luba Mason in Girl From The North Country on Broadway – photo by Matthew Murphy

The shady Reverend Marlowe, played with a sharp con man’s edge by the wonderful Matt McGrath (Keen Co’s Lonely Planet) will sell you a bible for $2 to find salvation, while systematically attempting to sell freedom for a great deal more. The ploy revolves most dynamically around the topic of simpleton Elias Burke, played fascinatingly by Todd Almond (Public Works’ The Tempest). In his complicated demeanor, he finds the way to tug at our sympathetic heart, like a slice out of Mice and Men. Even with the edge of violence held back, but it is in the solid frame of Marc Kudisch (Broadway’s 9 to 5) as his father, Mr. Burke who tries his best to protect him from the world, that grabs us hard by the throat. His red hot, lush of a wife, the dynamic Luba Mason (York Theatre’s Unexpected Joy) adds another layer of frustrated love and pain, thrilling us all with her “six drops a day” kinda magic, especially when she gets behind that drum set and harnesses all the attention away from almost anyone else. She demands from us with ease, much like the talented ensemble; Matthew Frederick Harris, John Schiappa, Rachel Stern, Chelsea Lee Williams, who broaden the landscape with their presence. They raise the roof with their illustrious singing, dancing, and emotive silhouettes, creating a piece of lustrous beauty and poetic emotionality that swings deep, infusing our souls with the smell of bourbon and compassion. The music wraps us in sadness and warmth all at once, like the smell of that dark liquid on a cold night. It ushers us into and out of something so mystically beautiful that it is almost too difficult to pin down. And why would we want to. It’s a coat that I’d love to wrap myself up in again and again. I guess that’s part of the magic of Dylan. Something I wasn’t aware of until now.

The cast of Girl From The North Country on Broadway – photo by Matthew Murphy

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My love for theater started when I first got involved in high school plays and children's theatre in London, Ontario, which led me—much to my mother’s chagrin—to study set design, directing, and arts administration at York University in Toronto. But rather than pursuing theater as a career (I did produce and design a wee bit), I became a self-proclaimed theater junkie and life-long supporter. I am not a writer by trade, but I hope to share my views and feelings about this amazing experience we are so lucky to be able to see here in NYC, and in my many trips to London, Enlgand, Chicago, Toronto, Washington, and beyond. Living in London, England from 1985 to 1986, NYC since 1994, and on my numerous theatrical obsessive trips to England, I've seen as much theater as I can possibly afford. I love seeing plays. I love seeing musicals. If I had to choose between a song or a dance, I'd always pick the song. Dance—especially ballet—is pretty and all, but it doesn’t excite me as, say, Sondheim lyrics. But that being said, the dancing in West Side Story is incredible! As it seems you all love a good list, here's two. FAVORITE MUSICALS (in no particular order): Sweeney Todd with Patti Lupone and Michael Cerveris in 2005. By far, my most favorite theatrical experience to date. Sunday in the Park with George with Jenna Russell (who made me sob hysterically each and every one of the three times I saw that production in England and here in NYC) in 2008 Spring Awakening with Jonathan Groff and Lea Michele in 2007 Hedwig and the Angry Inch (both off-Boadway in 1998 and on Broadway in 2014, with Neal Patrick Harris, but also with Michael C. Hall and John Cameron Mitchell, my first Hedwig and my far), Next To Normal with Alice Ripley (who I wish I had seen in Side Show) in 2009 FAVORITE PLAYS (that’s more difficult—there have been so many and they are all so different): Angels in American, both on Broadway and off Lettice and Lovage with Dame Maggie Smith and Margaret Tyzack in 1987 Who's Afraid of Virginai Woolf with Tracy Letts and Amy Morton in 2012 Almost everything by Alan Ayckbourn, but especially Woman in Mind with Julia McKenzie in 1986 And to round out the five, maybe Proof with Mary Louise Parker in 2000. But ask me on a different day, and I might give you a different list. These are only ten theatre moments that I will remember for years to come, until I don’t have a memory anymore. There are many more that I didn't or couldn't remember, and I hope a tremendous number more to come. Thanks for reading. And remember: read, like, share, retweet, enjoy. For more go to


Broadway’s A Doll’s House Meticulously Stunning Revival Soars Like a Birdie Above That Clumsy Cat on a Hot Tin Roof




For a revival to find its footing, it has to have a point of view or a sense of purpose far beyond an actor’s desire to perform a part, whether it suits them or not. It needs to radiate an idea that will make us want to sit up and pay attention. To feel its need to exist. And on one particular day in March, I was blessed with the opportunity to see not just one grande revival, but two. One was a detailed pulled-apart revolutionary revival of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House that astounded. The other, unfortunately, was a clumsy revival of Tennessee Williams’ Cat on a Hot Tin Roof that fell lazily from that high-wired peak – not for a lack of trying, but from a formulation that never found its purpose.

Jessica Chastain in A Doll’s House. Courtesy of A Doll’s House.

But over at Broadway’s Hudson Theatre, a reformulation chirps most wisely and wonderfully, bringing depth and focus to a classic Henrik Ibsen (Hedda Gabler) play that I didn’t realize was in such need of an adaptation. With no extravagance at its core, Amy Herzog (Mary Jane) dynamically takes the detailed structure and beautifully adapted it with due purpose. It hypnotizes, dragging in a number of light wooden chairs, Scandinavian in style, I believe, onto the stage, one by one, by their black-clad counterparts in a determined effort to unpack what will unfold. There is no artifice to hide behind in this rendering, as designed most impeccably by scenic and co-costume designer Soutra Gilmour (NT’s My Brilliant Friend; Broadway’s & Juliet) and co-costume designer Enver Chakartash (Broadway’s Is This A Room), only A Doll’s House’s celebrated star, Jessica Chastain (Broadway’s The Heiress; “The Eyes of Tammy Faye“) rotating the expanse of the bare stage before the others join her slowly and deliberately. She sits, arms crossed, staring, daring us to look away, while knowing full well we won’t. Or can’t. And without a word, it feels like she has us exactly where she wants us. Needs us to be. And all that transpires before the play even begins.

They sit on that bare and stark stage, waiting, in a way, to be played with, like dolls patiently wanting some children to come and give them a voice through their imagination. As Nora, Chastain delivers forward a performance that is unparalleled. To witness what transpires across her face during the course of this extra fine adaptation is to engage in a dance so delicately embroidered that we can’t help but be moved and transported. She barely moves from her chair, as others, like the equally wonderful Arian Moayed (Broadway’s The Humans) as Torvald, are rotated in to sit beside her, conversing and delivering magnified lines, thanks to the brilliant work of sound designers Ben & Max Ringham (West End’s Prima Facie), that dig deep into the underbelly of the complicated interactions. This pair of actors find a pathway through the darkness, never letting us come to any conclusions until they are ready to unleash a moment that will leave you breathless. This is particularly true for Moayed’s Torvald, who seems decent enough at the beginning, but once the shift occurs, when the beautiful thing doesn’t happen as it should, his unveiling is as gut-wrenching to us as it is to Nora. Even though we knew it was coming long before the play even began to spin forward.

Arian Moayed, Jesmille Darbouze, Okieriete Onaodowan, Tasha Lawrence, Jessica Chastain, and Michael Patrick Thornton in A Doll’s House. Courtesy of A Doll’s House.

The art of the unfolding is steeped within the whole, refocused inside the brilliant shading, shadowing, and starkness of the cast. As Krogstad, the powerful Okieriete Onaodowan (Broadway’s Hamilton), alongside the deliciously tight Jesmille Darbouze (Broadway’s Kiss Me, Kate) as Kristine, find an engagement that sits perfectly in the structuring. They push the reforming to the edge, approaching and receding away from Chastain’s brilliant centering helping move the piece towards the required conclusion.

The same can be said of the wonderful Tasha Lawrence (LCT’s Pipeline) as Anne-Marie, and the exquisitely emotional turning of Michael Patrick Thornton (Broadway’s Macbeth) as Dr. Rank. Thornton, in particular, finds a telling and emotional space to connect, unearthing an engagement that breaks the circle apart, leaving Chastain’s Nora and all of us observers shattered and broken in its black X’d finality.

As directed with the same magnificently detailed energy and flat-walled framework as the previously seen Betrayal on Broadway and the West End, Jamie Lloyd gives us A Doll’s House that will never be forgotten. The focus is so deliberate, and the formulations are just so strong, pushed forward in black and white by the exacting lighting design of Jon Clark (West End/Broadway’s The Lehman Trilogy). Forced while remaining ever so intimate, the cascading of the statement delivered registers in a precise way, more exacting than I ever remembered, and I’ve seen numerous renditions of this epic play. And even though, from what I hear, many on the left couldn’t see the epic exit of Nora, a moment that typically registers throughout theatre history, the symbol of a woman, steadfast and true, leaving the safe and simple artifice of A Doll’s House for engagement in the hard cruel reality of the world outside is as clear as can be. The delicacies of this birdie trapped inside a cage, poisoned with lies and excuses, and beautifully brought forth by Chastain, registers the reasonings for this revival to exist. It has found a new and deliberate place to sing, and for that, I am truly grateful.

Arian Moayed and Jessica Chastain in A Doll’s House. Courtesy of A Doll’s House
Matt de Rogatis in Ruth Stage’s CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF. Photo by Max Bieber.

I wish I could say the same about Ruth Stage‘s modern take on the Tennessee Williams (A Streetcar Named Desire) classic, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, currently being re-delivered at the Theatre at St. Clements. As directed by Joe Rosario (Hemingway and Me; Ruth Stages’ The Exhibition), the play doesn’t find its rationale for existing in the modern day beyond the simplistic sexualization of its boxing-ring corners. Matt de Rogatis (Austin Pendleton’s Wars of the Roses) as the tense athletic Brick stays broken and damaged in his corner, riding out the moment, waiting for the click, while in the other corner is the tense Maggie, played without hesitation by Courtney Henggeler (Netflix’s “Cobra Kai“) poised and ready for the bell to ring.

The battle is only heightened by the presence of two other fighters in the opposing corners, Big Daddy, played with determination by Frederick Weller (Broadway’s To Kill a Mockingbird) in the third, and Big Mama, played with a strong intent by Alison Fraser (Gingold Theatrical’s Heartbreak House), in the fourth. And watching and cheering for their own personal perspective wins are the obnoxious Mae, typically portrayed by Christine Copley (although I believe I saw an understudy), the weasely Gooper, played by Adam Dodway (Theatre Row’s Small Craft Warnings), Rev. Tooker portrayed by Milton Elliott (Ruth Stage’s Hamlet), and Doc Baugh, typically played by Jim Kempner (“The Girlfriend Experience“) (although, once again, I believe I saw an understudy).

Frederick Weller and Alison Fraser in Ruth Stage’s CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF. Photo by Max Bieber.

Generally, this is a battle that rages deceptively strong and subtle for the length of the play, swimming cruelly in the hazy heat of its Southern charm. But somewhere in this modernization, the reasonings never get fully realized, leaving the cast to wander in their stereotypical delivery without a sharp focal point in the horizon to zero in on. Hidden behind the bar and the drink, de Rogatis finds a Brick to be engaged with. He’s definitely handsome and desirable, especially in the eyes of the far-too-straightforward Henggeler’s Maggie the Cat, and his occupation of drinking rings more true than most. I’m not sure if the modernization has been created to fit his chest-baring delivery of a broken Brick, but I will say that his artful approach to the part is one of the stronger components of this otherwise clunky reimagining.

Given so much to unpack, Henggeler runs a little too fast and furious, not weaving a pause into her thoughts and actions. It’s all forward flowing, ignoring the laws of silence and deliberation. Big Mama and Big Daddy, ignoring the fact that they don’t seem to fit in with their surroundings or the set-up, find their way into the same cage as the two central figure fighters, giving us something else to contemplate in their constructs, beyond their tight fitting jeans and dress. There’s not much of a father/son connection, nor does their familial energy register, even as it moves and twitches within the pauses well. The details of attachment are lost, as they talk around things, with everyone else playing at high volume, courtesy of a sound design by Tomás Correa (Hudson Street’s Adam & Eve), delivering the Southern drawl with the intensity of an SNL skit. That’s a problem to the whole and one that doesn’t work for this rendering.

Courtney Henggeler in Ruth Stage’s CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF. Photo by Max Bieber.

Most of the cast is all hock and no spit, moving around the room with a strange case of physicalized mendacity while never really finding a reason for their existence. The artifice gets in the way of the movement, especially in Matthew Imhoff’s (off-Broadway’s soot and spit) busy and overly clumsy set, with some distracting fading in and out by lighting designer Christian Specht’s (SSTI’s Cabaret). The storm approaching is as false as the formula and the reasoning for this retelling. It showcases some basically good actors embracing the chance to play iconic Big roles that I’m sure they have always wanted to dig their Southern-accented chomps into, possibly because one or two of them might never otherwise get the chance as they don’t exactly fit the literal sashaying of the “fat old” bodies out and around the staging of this play. The idea breeds curiosity, but one that doesn’t save this Cat on a Hot Tin Roof from falling quick and hard from its perch, I’m sad to say. While the birdie in A Doll’s House flies strong out into the cool Broadway air, with solid reasoning on its stark wings, reminding us all what makes for a worthy reimagining of a classic.

Frederick Weller in Ruth Stage’s CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF. Photo by Max Bieber.
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Relevantly Tuneless Fairytale Bad Cinderella Isn’t Bad, It’s Forgettable



You are seriously asking for it, when you make the title for your musical Bad Cinderella, however the show is  not bad, it’s just seriously lacking. For an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, which is normally rich in melody, the only song that has any kind of hold is “Only You, Lonely You” sung by Prince Sebastian (Jordan Dobson or in my performance the wonderful Julio Ray). The lyrics by David Zippel and book by Emerald Fennell, adapted by Alexis Scheer are inane. It doesn’t help that the cast for the most part speaks and sings with mouths full of cotton. The orchestrations sound tinny and computerized, The lead Linedy Genao has no charisma or vocals that soar musically, instead she is rather nasal, like Bernadette Peters with a cold. Why this show is two and a half hours long is beyond me.

Grace McLean and the hunks Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

The show is based in a town called Belleville (beautiful town en Francais), that is based solely on looks and prides itself on its superficiality. The opening number starts with “Beauty Is Our Duty,” the Queen (a fabulous Grace McLean) is into her hunks including her missing son Charming (Cameron Loyal).

Christina Acosta Robinson Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

And the fairy godmother (Christina Acosta Robinson) is a plastic surgeon who sings “Beauty Has a Price”. In a day and age, where we are suppose to see past all that, this show is politically incorrect.

Linedy Genao Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Cinderella a Gothic, and a graffiti artist, naturally does not fit into the town’s mold of beauty, which is how she earns her nickname. Her rebel move happens when she defaces a memorial statue of Sebastian’s older brother, Prince Charming. Sebastian is more of a geek, and he and Cinderella are in the “friend zone,” since both lack communication skills in admitting their love.

Carolee Carmello Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Sebastian is being forced by his mother, the Queen to find a wife at a ball and invites Cinderella. Cinderella’s stepmother (the always remarkable Carolee Carmello) blackmails the Queen to get one of her daughters Adele (Sami Gayle) or Marie (Morgan Higgins) the gig.

Grace McLean, Carolee Carmello Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

McLean and Carmello are the bright spots in the show and if the show had been about these two, maybe we would actually have a show that could work. These two steal the show.

Linedy Genao, Jordan Dobson, Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Cinderella has not one, but two what should have been show stopping numbers “I Know I Have A Heart (Because You Broke It)” and “Far Too Late,” but she does not have the vocals, the character development or the star power to carry them off.

The set and the revenge porn costumes by Gabriela Tylesova, are just over the top, with the storybook set faring much better than the over complicated flowered pastels that waltzed across the stage.

The direction by Laurence Connor is just dull and lacks oomph.

If you like buff men and Chippendale type choreography this is the show for you.

Bad Cinderella, Imperial Theatre, 249 West 45th Street.

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Did You Know There Is A Kander & Ebb Way?



On Friday, March 24th, the 96-year-old John Kander was given a Mayoral Proclamation from Mayor Eric Adams in celebration of the first performance of his new Broadway musical New York, New York. Following the proclamation, Lin-Manuel Miranda unveiled the sign renaming 44th Steet ‘Kander & Ebb Way. On hand was the Manhattan School of Music to performed the iconic Kander & Ebb song “New York, New York.”

New York, New York opens Wednesday, April 26, 2023 at Broadway’s St. James Theatre (246 West 44th Street).


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