NYT Critics' Picks

This revival strips away the dusty, traditional reverence for the Loman family and replaces it with a searing, high-stakes urgency that makes Arthur Miller’s 1949 script feel like it was written for this exact economic moment. Critics are calling it a "triumph," noting that Nathan Lane delivers a "career-best performance" while Laurie Metcalf provides an "iron backbone" that turns the usual sentimentality into something raw and unsentimental.

This radical reimagining trades the oversized junkyard for the high-octane energy of the underground ballroom scene, turning the classic feline pageant into an "entirely new" and "vibrant" competition of self-expression. It is a "joyous," high-fashion spectacle where the familiar score meets the precision of runway culture, creating a transformative atmosphere that earns "10s across the board" for its pure, infectious energy.

A "shattering" psychological thriller that feels more like prestige noir than a traditional stage production, this story centers on a wedding celebration where a long-buried secret begins to unravel in real-time. Critics have hailed the experience as "stunning," and you don’t need to be a seasoned buff to get swept up in the "stifling tension" of a mystery that plays out with a heart-pounding, cinematic pace.

Gina Gionfriddo’s comedy turns a disastrous blind date into a high-stakes spectator sport, centering on a messy collision of family dysfunction and the kind of "calculated narcissism" that feels uncomfortably familiar. It’s an evening of "startlingly blunt" honesty where the characters trade insults that land like the harsh truths shared only after a few too many drinks with the people who know your secrets best.

John Lithgow plays Roald Dahl not as the whimsical creator we grew up with, but as a brilliant, towering antagonist who spent a single, explosive afternoon in 1983 nearly blowing up his own legacy over a single book review. It’s the kind of high-stakes, dialogue-heavy drama that makes you realize how thin the line is between a creative genius and a neighborhood bully, especially when the person holding the pen refuses to apologize for what they've said.

It’s easy to assume a play about depression is going to be a total downer, but this is actually one of the funniest, most life-affirming things you’ll see because it’s built around a giant, running list of every little thing that makes life worth it. It’s super interactive in a way that’s not scary—Daniel Radcliffe basically recruits the audience to help tell the story—so by the time he gets to "the smell of old books" or "staying up past your bedtime," you feel like you’re part of this secret, supportive club instead of just sitting in a dark theater.

In a "monkishly simple" Greenwich Village basement, four actors sit in simple chairs to deliver a "sumptuous set of nightmare-erotic" stories that feel less like a play and more like a grimy, honest conversation after too many glasses of wine. It is a high-stakes "walk with a trusted guide" through the wreckage of a middle-class family, where the "moth day" isn't a celebration, but a childhood term for the inevitable date of one's own death.

This quiet, hyper-specific mystery swaps typical stage fireworks for the stifling tension of Midwestern living rooms, where a series of house calls slowly unearths the truth behind a local hero’s passing. It is a masterclass in what remains unsaid, capturing the delicate, often awkward dance of neighborly sympathy in a town where a shared secret is just as heavy as the grief itself.

A naive Brit arrives at JFK with a heavy suitcase and an even heavier optimism, teaming up with a cynical native New Yorker to deliver a wedding cake across a city that doesn't care about either of them. It’s a "crush note" to New York that finds the soulful, messy reality beneath the standard rom-com glitter.

Six mid-pubescent outsiders discover that the only thing more high-stakes than correctly spelling "phylactery" is navigating a "riotous" gymnasium floor while their parents watch from the bleachers. This "slanderously funny" musical creates a safe space for the socially awkward, where the prize is a trophy and the consolation is a juice box handed out by a comfort counselor on a mid-probation work assignment.

Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson use live-looping and hip-hop to bridge the 19th and 21st centuries, unearthing the "startlingly smart" and nearly forgotten history of the Underground Railroad that ran South into Mexico. It is a hilarious, high-energy feat of "theatrical engineering" where the entire soul-stirring score is composed from scratch right in front of your eyes.

Havana, 1956: the air is thick with "rhythmic heat" and the golden-age nostalgia of a city on the brink of change. This "shimmering and soulful" reunion follows a group of legendary musicians stepping out of the shadows of history to reclaim the songs the world almost forgot.

In a neon-lit, near-future Seoul, two "obsolete" HelperBots discover an unexpected connection in a world that has moved on without them. It’s a jazzy, bittersweet musical that explores how the most human thing about us might actually be our capacity to break down.

Three distinct American lives—a stifled upper-class wife, a determined Jewish immigrant, and a daring Harlem musician—collide in a "sprawling" turn-of-the-century landscape. This production strips away the spectacle to focus on the raw, "high-stakes" friction of a country struggling to harmonize its own contradictions.

Forget the history books; this is a "slanderously inaccurate" and "completely unhinged" look at the suppressed desires of Mary Todd Lincoln. Playwright Cole Escola transforms the Lyceum Theatre into a "rumbling sea of guffaws" with a 80-minute farce that treats the Civil War as a mere backdrop for one woman’s desperate, campy quest for a "parade" of her own.

The Jellicle Cats have traded the junkyard for the high-octane energy of the 1980s Ballroom scene, where the "runway" is the ultimate stage for survival. It is a "meticulously observed" reimagining that finds the soul of Andrew Lloyd Webber's classic in the defiant, high-stakes beauty of queer subculture.

Amidst the "razzle dazzle" of 1920s jazz and gin, two murderesses compete for the headlines and the legal services of a lawyer who treats the courtroom like a vaudeville act. It remains a "startlingly smart" satire on the American obsession with celebrity, proving that a sensational crime is the only currency that never devalues.