Andrew Marzoni

Phillips’s musical sequel to his haggardly wrought early Scorsese pastiche more aptly encompasses the existential malaise of NYFF62 than the proudest members of its main slate.

A narrow trail through the lucrative past of a working man’s multi-millionaire

The post-Hamilton death throes of our dramatic institutions insist that the show must go on.

Less a menacing monument to imminent doom than a superfluous, almost decadent by-product of capitalism gone awry