New York, New York: Part 2 

With Christmas and New Year's Eve both embraced in the final week of 2006 -- an embrace warmed by El Niño -- Broadway producers jubilantly rang in 2007 with the highest grossing week in history, raking in $29.1 million at the box office. Attendance for the week ending Dec. 31 also set a new mark at 314,310.

Yes, that's an average ticket price of more than $92.50.

Not a bad argument for mixing some Off-Broadway fiber into your theater diet. Here's another: Three of the ballyhooed shows I saw on Broadway this season -- two of them musicals -- had their beginnings Off-Broadway last season.

Broadway hasn't been turned upside down yet, but there are signs of a paradigm shift. True, the Disney machinery keeps cranking out its family-friendly comfort food, almost impervious to Gotham's feral critics. British imports still have a place at the banquet. And if you've never seen Les Miz or A Chorus Line, the current revivals are virtual clones of the originals, according to all reports.

Adventurous theatergoers, however, can find exotic tastes to savor. At Spring Awakening, you can sit onstage with the actors and musicians if you're willing to surrender your coat in the lobby and wait 'til after the show for your playbill. Grey Gardens follows the familiar formula of musicalizing a motion picture -- this time with a slight twist: Here the inspiration is a 1975 documentary.

Stranger still might be the Broadway revival of Stephen Sondheim's Company, which obliterates the dividing line between the actors and musicians. Nor is there a shortage of curiosities Off-Broadway. In The Big Voice, we watch the ultimate in cost-cutting maneuvers. Composer and lyricist perform their own script and songs, telling us the story of their own relationship.

For sheer zaniness, Evil Dead The Musical has moved to the vanguard with the invention of the Splatter Zone. If you sit in the first three rows at this cheesy adaptation of the 1981 gorefest, you'll be showered with the nectar of the grisly technical effects -- stage blood gushing into the audience from walls, scalps and the occasional severed limb. With the genially sacrilegious Altar Boyz and the no-explanation-needed Naked Boys Singing under the same roof, New World Stages has certainly done its share to push the boundary lines in reinventing the musical for a new generation. While redefining the Off-Broadway experience.

Last week in "New York, New York: Part 1," I gave you a peek at the current season at the Met Opera and Carnegie Hall. Now in Part 2, we hopscotch the Theatre District, Greenwich Village and SoHo for the 11 new shows I saw between Dec. 16 and Jan. 1.

Here's my scorecard:

Broadway

Company (**** out of 4) -- If you've pigeonholed Stephen Sondheim's musicals as unremittingly clever and cerebral, this impassioned revival will be a revelation. Raul Esparza is utterly, urgently adorable as Robert, the central character who finds himself reaching his 35th birthday unattached and still scared by the pitfalls of commitment.

Esparza doesn't actually sit down to the keyboard until late in the evening. By that time, we're so accustomed to the multi-instrumental exploits of his fellow cast/band members that picking up a trumpet or a clarinet or a violin in the midst of a dramatic scene doesn't seem any less natural than breaking into song.

But singing is what Esparza does best, and Barbara Walsh matches him in bravura as his would-be seductress, Joanne. Her icy disillusionment balances perfectly against his hard-won affirmation -- sparks it, actually. So at the end of Bobby's odyssey toward openness, Walsh's showstopping rendition of "The Ladies Who Lunch" followed by Esparza's "Being Alive" make a 1-2 punch whose knockout force I've never encountered before.

Sondheim has deconstructed the happily-ever-after storyline elsewhere. But no musical explores Robert's dilemma -- "What do you want to get married for?" -- more deeply, relevantly or memorably.

Spring Awakening (***3/4) -- The hottest Off-Broadway transplant of the season takes as its source an 1891 Franz Wedekind drama that dealt with teens discovering their sexuality without a shred of knowledge from their teachers or preparation from their Teutonic parents. Layered onto this quaint, excavated tragedy is a rocking song list that gives no quarter to the repressions of the bygone century, rawer and more defiantly punkish than any score that has hit Broadway before.

"The Bitch of Living" and "Totally Fucked" are two of the song titles by Steven Sater and Duncan Sheik if you're trying to gauge Spring Awakening's shock voltage. Yet there is also beautifully poisonous poetry amid the hormonal riot as Wendla and Melchior fall for each other. "O, I'm gonna be wounded," they sing. "O, I'm gonna be your wound."

As good as Lea Michele and Jonathan Grofe are as the lead lovebirds, even they're upstaged by manic antics of John Gallagher, Jr., as Moritz, the school's eraser-headed misfit. Bill T. Jones's outré choreography tops off this riveting spectacle.

The Apple Tree (***1/4) -- After ascending to bankability in Wicked, Kristin Chenoweth isn't reinventing Broadway musicals so much as reinventing the Broadway musical star. The triptych of short tuneful comedies by Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick will interrupt its limited run this week (Jan. 19-20) as Chenoweth makes a concert appearance, "Live at the Met," this Friday.

A little further down the road -- would you believe 2010? -- Chenoweth is slated to make her Metropolitan Opera stage debut in John Corigliano's Ghosts of Versailles.

Meanwhile, Chenoweth isn't the only reason to snap up a ticket for Apple Tree. She is ably supported in the opening story, "The Diary of Adam and Eve," by Brian D'Arcy James as Adam and Marc Kudisch as the leather-clad Snake. But after the curtain descends on this adaptation of Mark Twain's drolleries, the 4-foot-11-inch spitfire is the chief reason for sticking around for "The Lady or the Tiger?" and "Passionella." Closes March 11.

The Little Dog Laughed (***) -- No doubt about it, Julie White gives an exquisitely sharp portrait of Diane, a manipulative Hollywood agent who connives to keep her hottest client, Mitch, safely in the closet. Despite her own lesbian leanings. Otherwise, I found this slick Tinseltown satire to be overpraised.

If this is the backlot scoop on Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, playwright Douglas Carter Beale needed to heap on more salt and vinegar -- and venom. That said, Tom Everett Scott as Mitch and Johnny Galecki as his male escort give earnest spot-on performances that never threaten White's comedy dominion. Closes Feb. 18.

Grey Gardens (**3/4) -- If you're a Christine Ebersole fanatic, or if you harbor an unquenchable curiosity for all things even peripherally Kennedy, you may be able to work up some genuine enthusiasm for this dreary, static adaptation of the Maysles Brothers' documentary. Not qualifying on either count, I found myself questioning the critical kudos.

Boasting a script by Doug Wright, these Gardens are nicely manicured. Ebersole will certainly earn Tony Award consideration for her portrayal of self-absorbed Edith Bouvier Beale, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis' eccentric aunt. After intermission, Ebersole switches to the other major role, "Little" Edie Beale, the tightly wrapped reclusive victim of "Big" Edie's overprotectiveness.

Gardens itself is being touted for a Tony. Should it beat out Spring Awakening for the prize, I'll demand that the Warren Commission reconvene.

High Fidelity (**1/2) -- Centering on the belated maturation of vinyl record shop owner Rob (Will Chase), David Lindsay-Abaire's script had the misfortune of sporting a recurring Top 5 theme. The Times critic took aim at this irritating tick and enshrined Fidelity among a makeshift list of Top 5 "All-Time Most Forgettable Musicals."

Fair assessment. This genial, utterly conventional musical with diverting songs by Tom Kitt and Amanda Green may indeed nestle at an exact midpoint of mediocrity. Far from the best musical ever to hit Broadway and perhaps equally far from the worst. Altogether gone, however, on Dec. 18. Just 11 days after opening.

Tough town.

Off-Broadway

The Voysey Inheritance (***1/2) -- David Mamet has streamlined Harley Granville Barker's intricate exploration of a reputable family whose wealth is based on shady business practices. The surgery is mostly a success, leaving us with a vestigial Voysey or two from the 1905 original but keeping us focused on the Enron relevance with bristling intensity.

Fritz Weaver lends stature to this Atlantic Theatre Company production as the ailing Voysey patriarch, but it's Michael Stuhlberg who shines brightest as Voysey's preternaturally ethical son and business partner, Edward. Steering between obligation to his clients and safeguarding the family's honor, Edward is a fascinating, sometimes overly persnickety study.

Atlantic has sent Spring Awakening and The Lieutenant of Inishmore to Broadway within the past 10 months. Don't be shocked if Voysey follows the same path. Extended (for a third time) through March 25.

Evil Dead The Musical (***1/4) -- Granted, George Reinblatt's merciless send-up of this Hollywood horror isn't wedded to a musical score of equal distinction. And yes, the late-night cult cachet that Evil Dead aspires to is frankly ripped off from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

But outfitted with its undeniably original Splatter Zone, ED is s-o-o-o-o much fun, a happening with its own twisted identity. Hinton Battle and Christopher Bond have co-directed and choreographed with absolutely inspired crassness, grossness, cheesiness and bloody excess. The design team is altogether on the same page, from the elaborately rigged set to the alien makeup to the chainsaw carnage.

All this wedded to a loutish bestiality that even death doesn't extinguish. I believe it's Scott who solemnly observes, after his slutty girlfriend's untimely demise, "I've got some Shelley on my shoe!"

Another favorite moment occurred toward the end of intermission, when a theater attendant tossed out panchos to patrons seated in the Splatter Zone. Like feeding time at the zoo.

Room Service (***1/4) -- Who knew? Before the 1938 flick parleying the Marx Brothers, Lucille Ball and Ann Miller, the screwball comedy by John Murray and Allen Boretz was a Broadway hit, reaching 500 performances. You can see why in this full-length three-act remount at the SoHo Playhouse. David Edwards is rather solid as producer Gordon Miller (the Groucho role) in a play that celebrates theater folk as scheming, dreaming ne'er-do-wells forever dogged by poverty while destined for greatness.

The opening scene, when Miller and cohorts attempt to vacate the hotel where they owe a huge tab, is a physical comedy gem. And Sterling Coyne, able to go red-faced at will as the seething hotelier, is a rotund miracle of furious, hilarious combustion. Closes March 25.

An Oak Tree (**3/4) -- Every night, a different performer joins playwright/performer Tim Crouch onstage at Barrow Street Theatre -- never having seen the show or read Crouch's script before. Crouch portrays an unraveling hypnotist who is haunted by memories of killing a young girl in a car accident. The girl's father, portrayed by the guest actor (or actress!), has tracked the hypnotist down and volunteers to be his subject at a public performance that we attend.

It's fascinating to watch Crouch acting out his role while instructing the guest on how to perform his/hers. Despite multiple layers of artifice Crouch wishes to demonstrate, we still have the ability to believe in the reality of events that are patently false and contrived. Or, to be blunt, impossible: The final layer of pretense asks us to believe these events are happening a year from now.

I confess to being somewhat mesmerized and moved. But the three ladies who accompanied me -- my mom, daughter and missus -- had reactions ranging from confusion to boredom. Might have made a difference if I'd snagged tickets on the night David Hyde Pierce guested.

The Big Voice: God or Merman? (**1/2) -- Personally, I liked both members of this gay couple and their story. There's additional tang in seeing Jim Brochu, a Brooklyn Catholic, and Steve Schalchlin, an Arkansas Baptist, performing their love story amid the Jewish bric-a-brac of a synagogue -- the Actors Temple Theatre.

But whereas Brochu is a gifted, even charismatic performer, Schalchlin is not. And if you're telling us about the vicissitudes of a somewhat incompatible couple, the element of suspense is DOA when both people are standing right there.

Still it's good to know that gays, godless or not, divide into two parties: You either love Merman or you worship Judy.