Daniel Stewart is the only member of the quintet to play one role, and a dashing one it is—that of Phileas Fogg, who in 1872 bets that he can travel around the world in a given amount of time, and off he goes, surmounting a series of obstacles by his resourcefulness and a bit of luck, such as a typhoon blowing in the right direction.

Jay Russell, John Keating, Lauren Elise McCord, and Evan Zes play thirty-some—(I lost count)--characters. All have their especially bright moments. For example McCord has a show-stopping gun-toting bit when she starts shooting from a train along with the well-timed sound effects. Zes has two roles, most notably the show-stealing Passepartout. In that portrayal Zes has a ball helping Fogg reach his goal. Zes’s acting is far over the top at times, but the role calls for broadness and he is hilarious with his accent, comic body movements and spouting the very funny dialogue provided him. It’s the kind of showy, entertaining performance practically bound to get the most applause at curtain call.

This is enviably strong ensemble work, somewhat along the lines of the feat by the actors in “The 39 Steps.” But the staging also is a star because of the charm and imagination involved. Want to give the appearance of a ship? A smokestack and a life preserver take care of that. Need an elephant ride? The actors, with the use of a few props, provide the illusion. Convincing us that they are on a train? Some jogging movements reflect the ride. All of these tricks of the acting and stagecraft trades (set design by Joseph P. Tilford, costume deign by David K. Mickelsen, lighting design by Betsy Adams, sound design by David Andrew Levy) combine to carry us on an extensive fun-filled voyage. Let’s not forget Elizabeth Helitzer and Mark Parenti, who, while not in the acting contingent, provide pleasing wrap-around music as Foley Artists.

This low-key clever little musical, back again from its earlier run, is a frequently enjoyable romp, although it can get a bit tedious after a while despite its mere 90 minute length. However, the affable performances and the many flashes of wit and inside theater joking make it different and therefore welcome.

Jeff Bowen has provided the music and lyrics, Hunter Bell the book, with both starring as two guys pressed to come up with a musical for a competition they enter. Their solution is to create one from their lives as they go along working with only the vague “[title of show]” as the name. Into the mix come two actresses, Susan Blackwell and Heidi Blickenstaff. The result is a kind of updated version of Judy and Mickey’s let’s put on a show gambit.

This one is derived in part from the personalities established, Hunter as the chirpy enthusiast, Jeff as the more solemn type, Heidi as the outgoing performer, Susan as the more offbeat one. They make an entertainingly fresh combo. One of the better numbers, a counterpoint duo between Heidi and Susan, has them expressing jealousies of one another.

The creators have a savvy knowledge of the theater process involving getting started, writing, casting, mounting a production, relying on critics and even finding problems with the fruits of success. Hence, the inside jokes. There are running phone messages on an answer machine of actresses saying why they have to pass, and then a late one expressing interest by the better known Emily Skinner, with the potential of her replacing Heidi. [On Broadway the potential replacement is Sutton Foster.] But after a while, the answer machine idea becomes overdone.

Durang has structured his two-act play with 33 rapid scenes that peer into the lives of two messed-up families. We see the marriage between the good-looking but vacuous Bette Berman (Kate Jennings Grant) and the unhappy-looking Boo Hudlocke (Christopher Evan Welch), speedily united by a bored priest, Father Donnally (Terry Beaver). Bette’s mission in life is to have an army of children. Her only son Matt (Charles Socarides) comments directly to the audience in strategically placed flashbacks. But he is the sole offspring to survive. Bette keeps getting pregnant, but each time, the baby is born dead and the doctor (also played by Beaver), tosses it unceremoniously on the floor with a thud. Bette won’t quit.

Other members of Bette’s family include her ridiculously optimistic mother Margaret (Victoria Clark), Bette’s father Paul (Adam LeFevre), who has a speech impediment and utters gibberish hilariously (no political correctness here), and Bette’s two sisters, Joan (Zoe Lister-Jones), who is unyieldingly sarcastic, especially toward her dithery, ever-apologetic sister Emily (Heather Burns), who winds up with a stint in a mental hospital.

Boo lapses into misery and alcoholism His hard-drinking, cynical and nasty father (John Glover) is mean to his wife, Boo’s cheerfully befuddled mother Soot (Julie Hagerty), and has no patience with his son.

The most obvious targets are marriage and family relations. To give an example of the outrageousness of the humor, Bette’s father’s death scene is played for laughs, and afterward he remains around with a sheet over him as the family goes on with their lives. But the play also takes aim at religion—Father Donnally has a hilarious counseling scene—and the law, with LeFevre appearing in court and spewing out words with the usual unintelligibility. Death, alcoholism, education and mental problems get a humorous going over with no regard for so-called good taste, and yet Durang manages to instill a measure of sympathy for this sad lot of human beings.

The fresh challenge for director John Rando was to blend a contemporary cast with the vintage material, and one advantage is that, although the fortunes of the Yankees may have changed, baseball remains baseball for players who struggle to win and fans who go nuts when their team is heavily in the loss column. The dynamics are set the outset when P.J. Benjamin as pot-bellied fan Joe Boyd is glued to the TV during the season rooting for the hapless Washington Senators—yes, there was such a team--while his despairing wife Meg, played by the excellent Randy Graff, is ignored—a situation deftly captured in song with “Six Months Out of Every Year.”

The plot evolves when Boyd, who earlier in life longed to play baseball, is greeted by the appearance of the conniving devil in the person of Applegate, given an immensely appealing, showy star performance by television’s Sean Hayes. Applegate offers Boyd the Faustian bargain of trading ownership of his soul to become a handsome, virile, incredibly talented ballplayer for Applegate to present to the Senators, giving them hope of climbing from the cellar to defeat the Yankees. Presto. We are introduced to the handsome, talented Cheyenne Jackson as the new star Joe Hardy.

Hardy has an escape clause enabling him to go back to his former self under a deadline condition, and Applegate schemes to outwit him, with the help of the devil’s generally trustworthy Lola (Jane Krakowski), an expert in the art of seduction. The plot twists and turns are less important than the musical numbers by a large, winsome cast that includes performers portraying the motley group of players and baseball “widows,” and Megan Lawrence as feisty sports reporter Gloria Thorpe.

The show contains such spirited numbers as “Heart,” “Shoeless Joe from Hannibal, MO,” “Those Were the Good Old Days” (Applegate’s signature solo), “Who’s Got the Pain?” and “Two Lost Souls.” And, of course, there is the big seduction number, “Whatever Lola Wants,” as well as the comically raunchy “A Little Brains, a Little Talent.” Memories of Gwen Verdon, the original Lola die hard. The dynamic Krakowski does her best to re-interpret the Fosse choreography designed for another, but she becomes more entertaining than steamy, although one doesn’t necessarily have to take Lola’s gyrations as serious sex appeal. The musical concept satirizes seduction as well as employs it.

In any event, Krakowski exhibits her own brand of star quality and has the ability to please an audience on her terms. My memory of Verdon’s performance, preserved in the film version, is that she was also more fun than seriously sexy. Fosse’s choreography never lets one forget the spoofing aspect of the situation.

The plot also has its tender side expressing the idea of not appreciating what one has until losing it, as referred to the marriage of the elder Joe and Meg. Jackson sings feelingly in his solo “A Man Doesn’t Know,” and in a reprise, he is joined by Graff, who skillfully adds to the emotion, as do Graff along with Benjamin as the elder Joe when reunited in their reprise of the song.

One can blame the actor, director Oskar Eustis or both. It doesn’t matter—the end result is what counts. Fortunately, there is some good work in this production, most notably by Lauren Ambrose as Ophelia, although even she is sometimes over the top. André Braugher is impressive and a model of verbal clarity as King Claudius, and Sam Waterston has some worthy moments in his reserved interpretation of Polonius.

Staging the play in modern dress comes across as acceptable on that score, and Eustis mostly keeps the action brisk even at three hours and fifteen minutes. But what is this senseless, travesty of distortion at the end? When Fortinbras, Prince of Norway (Piter Marek) enters with his gun-toting soldiers after the stage is strewn with bodies, including Hamlet’s, he orders Horatio summarily shot. What Shakespeare text was Eustis reading? Such tampering is outrageous.

Creator/writer/ host Scott Siegel made us feel at home with his trademark witty introduction scanning the highs and lows of 1979 in the world beyond Broadway. Tying his turn-off-your-cell-phone advisory to doing so before the theater got darker served as comment on a powerful, ensemble rendition of the very dark “Ballad of Sweeney Todd.”

The Sondheim musical provided its share of highlights, including the handsome Max Von Essen with a moving un-miked interpretation of “Joanna;” rich-voiced singer Jeff McCarthy (currently Broadway’s Billie Flynn in “Chicago”) also un-miked with “Epiphany;” the delightful Sarah Uriarte Berry delicately singing “Green Finch and Linnet Bird,” and a beautiful rendition of “Not While I’m Around” by Scott Coulter, who not only sings like an angel, but stepped in for multiple chores as a last-minute replacement.

Emily Skinner worked behind the scenes as the director of the smooth-running, lively- paced show, but also dazzled with her lusty “I’m a Woman” number from the lesser-known “Carmelina” by Alan Jay Lerner and Burton Lane. She was indeed a woman, giving a rousing interpretation of the super-assertive lyrics. Skinner also excelled teaming with McCarthy, with an assist by Jason Graae, in “More and More, Less and Less” from Jerry Herman’s “The Grand Tour,” and, without a mike, leading the company in “I Belong Here,” also from “The Grand Tour.”

For “Evita” the concert boasted the real thing. In the Broadway production Terri Klausner played the title role on matinees, and here she came through in great style to reprise the signature “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” as well as the other strong numbers “Rainbow High” and “Buenos Aires.” Assignments from “Evita” also were carried out by Von Essen, lending his skill to “High Flying Adored” and “Oh, What a Circus,” and by Scott Coulter singing "On This Night of a Thousand Stars."

Early in the show attractive Melinda Sullivan did an amazing turn to the title song from “Sarava,” singing and vigorously dancing with shifting, jiggling, undulating movements that made it seem as if her body was off on its own trip. Subsequently she teamed with superb dancer and choreographer Noah Racey in “Daddy” from “1940s Radio Hour” and “I’m Keepin’ Myself Available for You” and “Exactly Like You” from “Sugar Babies.” They made a great team, engaging in some fancy tapping and assorted contemporary steps choreographed by Racey with Sullivan pitching in.

Jason Graae is a particularly entertaining fellow, providing a playful aura to much of what he does, as in the title number from “They’re Playing Our Song” (by Carole B. Sager and Marvin Hamlisch),” teaming with McCarthy in “You I Like” from “The Grand Tour” and soloing for the number “Mrs. S. L. Jacobowsky” from the same musical.

When it comes to vocal power it would be hard to match the dynamic Chuck Cooper, as evidenced, for example, by wowing the audience with his singing (un-plugged) the amusing “I Could Kill Her” from “Carmelina.” Important too was Lorin Latarro, contributing along with others to McCarthy’s “It’s Going to be Good to be Gone” number from “I Remember Mama” and dancing with Racey as part of Coulter's “On This Night of a Thousand Stars” number from “Evita.” The flop “I Remember Mama” also yielded the song “A Little Bit More,” handled deftly by Sarah Uriarte Berry.

Deborah Findlay as Anita seems as if she has stepped out of the real world in her tough but vulnerable performance as the grieving mother, and Mark Field as Davey likewise seems the real thing as the young stranger, who arrives with torn clothes and superficial wounds. He knows what happened to the son, and as the drama unfolds without an intermission we get the bits and pieces that the mother insists on hearing.

There is an underlying dynamic at work. On the one hand, Davey desperately needs love and is becoming a kind of surrogate son to Anita. But there is also sexual tension in the room, and at one point there is a revealing kiss between them, a kiss that reflects Anita’s hunger and the lad’s own neediness.

Mercedes Ruehl excels in delineating the character of Nevelson, and Larry Bryggman is charming as the interviewer who dissects the lady’s life, trying to extricate information from a subject who only would like to disclose what she wants to reveal about herself.

The situation is awkward to begin with, as the interview is with a dead person, and there is talk candidly referring to the situation. Toward the end of the play they both speak about her death, with Nevelson contemplating the details of her funeral service and cremation. There is a comic touch to the maudlin observations, but it still doesn’t improve the overall awkwardness of the format.

The conversation gets to be rather boring, save for those few moments when Nevelson flashes passion in talking about her life. The general portrait is of a woman who struggled to make her mark in the face of obstacles and critics who panned her work. The portrait of her as defiant and believing in herself, save for bouts with depression, comes through. Visually, there is the picture of her as dramatically dressed to make a statement wherever she goes. Much is made of her two sets of sable eyelashes. When asked if she ever thought of using three sets, she replies that she wouldn’t be able to open her eyes.

Although the ending seems abrupt and somewhat of a copout, there is much pleasure in getting to that point. JoBeth Williams as Joyce is a teacher and mom, and every moment seems totally truthful in a performance that moves along with the aura of real life. It is as close to a flawless portrayal as one can get.

Jonathan Clem is remarkable in the difficult role of Joyce’s son Jared, who is suspected of having an illness known as Asperger’s syndrome. Or is he just brilliantly hostile? Clem looks down upon everyone, has outbursts of nastiness, but is also funny in his putdowns. What is clear is that he is socially awkward and a handful.

Joyce is in a lesbian relationship with Phyllis, astutely played by Mary McCann, a professor at a Vermont college that is celebrating Body Awareness Week with a series of visits by distinguished guests. Phyllis addresses the theater audience as if it were the actual audience at the college. Her comments, while dispensed with friendly seriousness, are often very funny as a result of the playwright’s satirical take on the character and the body awareness program itself. McCann gets the mix delightfully right.

Phyllis can also be condescending toward her partner, demeaning her as unable to be an intellectual because she doesn’t possess a doctoral degree. A crisis is triggered when one of the college guests is Frank Bonitatibus, nicely played in subdued style by Peter Friedman, a photographer who has made his reputation photographing women nude, with his pictures exhibited on the campus. Phyllis is an unyielding doctrinaire feminist who is horrified at the very idea of nude photos of women, which she sees as unforgivably exploitative.

Joyce on the other hand is somewhat attracted to Frank and is intrigued by his art. She clearly would like to pose, and when Frank arranges it, Phyllis threatens to end their relationship. The play cops out of the situation when Joyce is beginning to pose after the major buildup and something happens to result in photo interruptus. Also, the situation with Jared seems too quickly resolved.

Greg, as interpreted by Thomas Sadoski, is the most intriguing of the four. There is a measure of complexity in the portrait of a guy who works for a huge we-sell-everything type emporium, reads assiduously and hopes to get a higher education. But he can’t make a permanent commitment to a lasting relationship. The play begins strikingly with a torrent of vulgar verbal abuse that he takes from Alison Pill as Steph, his girlfriend of four years who is outraged at being told by her friend, Greg’s co-worker Carly (Piper Perabo), a security guard, of his remark that Steph’s face wasn’t as pretty as a hot new number who joined the work force,

There are obviously lingering issues at work in the relationship, but Steph berates Greg with uncontrolled venom. The F word is the most operative means of communication. As a matter of fact, the amount of pent up anger Steph spews, while theatrical as far as an audience is concerned, would be enough to make any guy with a sense of self-preservation run as far away from her as he can get. That is not a mouth one would want to live with.

Pablo Schreiber, visually impressive and also in top acting form, plays Kent, a pig of a guy who thinks nothing of cheating on Carly, even when she is pregnant. Greg has been covering for him, but has enough at one point, and finds a way of getting back at Kent as well as at Carly, who messed him up by telling Steph what she had heard. Greg does something to enlighten Carly, probably for her own good, but there’s also an underlying nasty edge to his action.

So what are we supposed to make of all this interplay? Is this an accurate portrait of the blue-collar world? Many might disagree. Steph, even while hoping that Greg will make a commitment, looks elsewhere. Carly is going to have to survive hurt. Kent is unlikely to change. Greg may or may not improve his personal and professional life.