Before the Fall

ROMAN NIGHTS Literary mash notes seldom make great theater, a point underscored by Franco D‘Alessandro’s stage bouquet for two of his idols, playwright Tennessee Williams and Anna Magnani, the fiery Italian actress who appeared in Williams-scripted films The Rose Tattoo and The Fugitive Kind. A major problem is D‘Alessandro’s desire to make this a two-actor evening, which has both characters spending far too much time talking to imaginary people in order to lay out exposition. (“What‘s that, Roberto, you want me to do what?” is the kind of line Magnani is likely to say while looking above the audience to an invisible paramour.) For his part, Williams often talks directly to the house to bring us up to date on his long friendship with Magnani. Things don’t get much better in the moments when Tennessee and Anna are conversing together, languid chapters of mutual admiration that rarely betray conflict and never important actions or decisions. In fact, entire segments of dialogue could be reshuffled without any noticeable shift in logic. While actress Franca Barchiesi certainly has the Magnani temperament down, she looks as though she‘s spent far more time in the gym than her subject might have; Roy Miller’s Tennessee is consistently affable, although his character was not exactly a plush toy to his friends. Director Bick Goss might consider working with costumer Pamela Snyder to slip in a clothing change for Miller, whose Tennessee wears the same outfit over a 12-year period. DR2 Theater, 103 E. 15th St., (212) 239-6200.

HAIRSPRAY Just when it seems that the pink-and-turquoise landscape of retro kitsch has been strip-mined for laughs and nostalgia, this Broadway mega-hit successor to The Producers comes along, one of those rare cases of a stage musical besting its film inspiration. (Tickets are $100 a pop.) Those familiar with John Waters‘ 1988 movie know the story: Fat girl Tracy Turnblad (Marissa Jaret Winokur) dreams of landing a dancing gig on The Corny Collins Show, Baltimore’s answer to American Bandstand. It‘s 1962, and the after-school TV program is the home of teen throb Link Larkin (Matthew Morrison), who twists with a troupe of Aryan kids every day of the month save one, which is given over to “race music.” Mark O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan‘s book makes the show thoroughly entertaining and affecting, with Harvey Fierstein’s turn as Tracy‘s loudmouthed mom a highlight that never overwhelms the other characters. Waters did little more than give this musical his blessing and tips about Baltimore, but everything about Hairspray is a loving and faithful stage realization of the auteur’s benignly subversive vision. Marc Shaiman‘s pop-parfait music is neatly spiked with satirical lyrics by Shaiman and Scott Wittman, and comes to life thanks to Jack O’Brien‘s direction and Jerry Mitchell’s ebullient choreography. Even though Hairspray is a monument to technical dazzle, it beats with a human heart. Neil Simon Theater, 250 W. 52nd St., (212) 563-5544.