The cast is uniformly wonderful. The three leads blend and harmonize, while adding individual grace notes. Brooks speaks volumes with just a glance, Washington adds spirited bluster, and Jackson's distinct voice was made for Wilson's words. I lost count of how many times Doaker deadpans, 'Berniece ain't gonna sell that piano' - but he made it fresh each time. (Jackson understudied Boy Willie in the 1990 Broadway run.) In their supporting roles, Fisher makes dim Lymon lovable, while Potts radiates gleeful charisma. Watching Wining Boy sell Lymon an absurdly ill-fitting suit is like taking a whiff of theatrical laughing gas. As Grace, a wise-to-the-world woman Boy Willie and Lymon try to romance, April Matthis gives a lesson in how to make a big impact with a small role. The production team also delivers. Beowulf Boritt's set leaves room for an eerie showdown enhanced by Jeff Sugg's projections, Toni-Leslie James's costumes evoke mid-1930s style, and Japhy Weideman's lighting lends warmth and chill as needed.