All attention was focused upon Jeffrey Van Sciver, a mesmerizing black dancer with impossibly long arms and legs. Transitioning from sharply articulated moves to movements as liquid as a long string of pearls, Sciver nearly stole the show.

Short of an opening bit, and two vintage recreations of Jim Henson’s work from the mid 1950’s and early ‘60’s, the entire show involves a dialogue between master-of-ceremonies Patrick Bristow and the audience as he solicits suggestions for short bits that the six puppeteers then perform.

If your point of reference to recorder music is the more staid Renaissance music, Verbruggen’s performance will stand such notions on their head. She propelled the Sammartini forward with the vivacity and exuberance that makes this music seem like such a gift.

One neat trick about this new work is the decision to treat the audience as recent inductees into the SDO (or is that a cult?). I'd imagine it might be a bit like joining Scientology.

Playwright Moisés Kaufman ('The Laramie Project') has penned a drama rich in historical detail, such as Beethoven’s notorious inability to keep household staff, his slovenly appearance, and his soup-stained manuscripts.

That I had goose bumps yet again after a Janelle Monáe performance probably tells me everything I need to know.

Molly's no asexual Victorian girl with a proper long nightgown, stitching Peter’s shadow back in place. Smart and assertive, one imagines Hilary Clinton as a girl.

So powerful was his hold on the audience, the only evidence that anyone was even breathing was an occasional gasp.

Rarely do we have such a reliable witness who wears the fact she's been around the block a time or two with such discrete flair.

Russell delivers a performance that’ll give you shivers of recognition. You know this long-winded, self-serving, alpha male wanna-be who sucks the air out of the room.