The new arrival is geared particularly to those who follow the Broadway theater with plenty of “in” jokes and name-dropping, the latter not empty celebrity references but attached to bitchy humor and uproarious observations. There are also allusions to Hollywood and television that earn more laughs.

The scene is a lavish New York townhouse (smart set design by Scott Pask) of producer Julia Budder (Megan Mullally), who knows nothing about the theater, and not much else for that matter. (She thinks the “C” word is spelled with a K.) But she is loaded and has invested in a play written by Peter Austin (Matthew Broderick).

Before we get to meet either of them we meet Nathan Lane as actor James Wicker, and he sets the audience laughing as Nathan Lane can reliably do when he is at his best making cracks and using his sharp timing. He encounters a newcomer to New York with acting aspirations, Gus P. Head, given an outstandingly funny performance by Micah Stock, who has a job tending coats for the opening night party going on downstairs. The new play has been unveiled and the tense wait for the reviews is on.

Wicker, who has a TV series about to be cancelled, has seen and hated the play, but can’t let on at first to the playwright, a long-time close friend. Head has insinuated himself into the mix, and gets his own laughs as he brings back coats from guests—a huge, furry, blanket-like garment that belongs to Tommy Tune and a bubbly plastic design of a coat from Lady Gaga, two among the elite mentioned but whom we never see at the party.

We do meet acerbic Virginia Noyes, given an extremely funny performance by Stockard Channing, who has performed in the play in an effort to make a comeback. With her career on the skids and a history of rehab, she sniffs cocaine, even from her coat when she drops some on it, and when she flashes her legs, there is an ankle bracelet signifying her status with the law.

A flamboyant Rupert Grint in the character of Frank Finger broadly satirizes British directors working in the New York theater. F. Murray Abraham turns up as Ira Drew, a critic known for his nastiness and with an agenda of his own. It is unlikely that he would be hanging around througout the night, but as long as he is there, it is yet another occasion for laughs and barbs hurled at critics.

The piece de resistance comes as a lacerating review by Ben Brantley in the New York Times, so mean that line after line is funnier that the previous one. Those skewered react accordingly, as tension explodes, guaranteeing further guffaws from the audience, which at times is also targeted, as with Noyes making fun of the senior crowd who can’t hear and are always asking companions, “What did she say?” McNally has cleverly altered the play to include present day targets replacing former ones. When the play originally opened in 1986, Frank Rich was the ruthless Times critic quoted. Now Brantley gets the spotlight.

Director Jack O’Brien doesn’t allow for many lulls, although some relatively quiet moments are necessary for pacing, as well as for leading to further comedy. Broderick is excellent and relatively restrained as the playwright. Mullally is ditsy and uses a high-pitched, squeaky voice with an accent I can’t define. There is an occasionally barking dog out of sight in the bathroom, described as a vicious menace guilty of biting, and there’s a surprise at the end of the show.