Nathan Lane and Laurie Metcalf hypnotize in revival

Lane’s trademark brassiness lends the character’s long-winded rants an improbably winsome sheen, his embarrassments a piercing ache. There’s a hypnotic rhythm to the madness of his Willy; when it’s time to go, he nearly takes the show with him. It’s a bravura turn, but the show’s heart remains Linda, whom Metcalf imbues with crisp practicality. Dutiful, entirely un-naive and blisteringly angry, she is devastatingly economical even in her most withering and emotionally prostrate moments, Metcalf conveying the exhaustion of a woman used to holding everything together.

Together, the two sell what remains, for all its nuances and boosted flavors here, a stark and gutting tragedy. I didn’t always want to, but I found myself buying it.