Ambitious theatrical staging
The Belgian collective FC Bergman’s show “300 el x 50 el x 30 el” was incredibly intricate: A camera on a circular rail tracked what happened inside each dwelling of a small village that had been painstakingly built on the stage of the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Harvey Theater. The pinnacle was the ending, when the entire company jumped up and down in unison for what felt like forever. The more it went on, the more exhilarating it was. I still can’t quite figure out why this happened, but maybe it’s that gratuitousness that makes the staging memorable. ELISABETH VINCENTELLI
Sticking the landing
If you saw her as the Barbra Streisand-obsessed Rachel Berry on “Glee,” you wouldn’t really question that Lea Michele could sing the role of Fanny Brice in “Funny Girl,” the 1964 Streisand vehicle. She sang it constantly, and well. You might have wondered, though, what else she could do with her fabulous instrument; the role is not a cantata but an emotional slalom that had ended in wipeouts for many before her. When Michele took over the role in the Broadway revival in September, following Beanie Feldstein, she immediately made it clear that she’d learned enough since her Rachel days about the purposes of singing (and the backlashes of life) to give the role surprising dimension. She didn’t just belt, she’d been belted, and let us hear it. JESSE GREEN
A punishing few seconds
One of the most suspenseful scenes of the year lasts only a few seconds, but they feel like a punishing eternity. In the Broadway production of Martyna Majok’s “Cost of Living,” Ani, a quadriplegic double amputee played by Katy Sullivan, is relaxing in a bath. When her estranged husband-turned-caregiver walks away to another room, Ani, left alone, loses her bearings in the tub. She can’t get enough purchase to lift herself out and remains submerged, slowly drowning as the audience powerlessly looks on. Rarely has vulnerability been so depicted so economically and so heartbreakingly. ELISABETH VINCENTELLI
Best costume party
The cast members of the Broadway revival of “1776,” about two dozen strong, arrive in rehearsal room wear — sneakers, T-shirts, leggings. And then, at some signal, they simultaneously kick off their shoes, pull up their socks and slip on an outer layer, suddenly assuming the breeches and frock coat chic of the members of the Continental Congress. As directed by Diane Paulus and Jeffrey L. Page, this preshow routine performs a kind of magic trick. These actors have everything up their sleeves. Now you see them. This opening moment is also a provocation. What, it asks, would America look like now if these bodies — female, nonbinary, Indigenous, of color — had birthed it? ALEXIS SOLOSKI
A complete transformation
Corey Hawkins’s performance as Lincoln in Suzan-Lori Parks’s “Topdog/Underdog” is so transformative that the actor is almost unrecognizable. Hawkins is aged up, and appears bedraggled, hard-pressed for some good luck. For so much of the finely tuned play, Lincoln is the underdog, and Hawkins gives the character the kind of knowing speeches and glances that one would expect of an older brother who has yet to figure out his own life. Seamlessly shifting from lighthearted banter to a heartbreaking wilt, Hawkins deftly lays the emotional groundwork that leads to the play’s big third act twist. MAYA PHILLIPS
A mesmerizing opener: watch him close
Alone in a single-room-occupancy apartment, a man builds a stage from milk crates and cardboard. He’s the designer, the playwright, the director, the star. “Watch me close,” the man demands. “Watch me close now.” And in the opening moments of Suzan-Lori Parks’s brilliant, blistering “Topdog/Underdog,” how could a person do anything else? Yahya Abdul-Mateen II opens the show as Booth, a man teaching himself the three-card monte hustle. His hands falter; his understanding of the swindle is incomplete. But he’s an expert at conning himself and when he rattles off his patter, with such yearning and flair, anyone would fall for his dodge. ALEXIS SOLOSKI
No-holds-barred Hamlet
Lars Eidinger’s performance in “Hamlet” at BAM was so inventively bonkers that it felt like a highlight reel. My favorite moment looked unscripted — the German actor is known to fly off on improvised limbs — but actually wasn’t. Without warning, Eidinger let himself fall forward, without any attempt to break the move, and did a faceplant into a mound of moist dirt. Then he just laid there. The move fully committed to elemental slapstick and yet it also carried all the sadness and powerlessness in the world: What else could Hamlet do? ELISABETH VINCENTELLI
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