Put Jon Bernthal and Ebon Moss-Bachrach of “The Bear” in a Broadway adaptation of “Dog Day Afternoon,” and you’ve got a pitch that sells itself — whether it holds up onstage is another matter.
Playwright Stephen Adly Guirgis, known for his muscular, streetwise dramas, is tasked with adapting Sidney Lumet’s 1975 film, with Bernthal and Moss-Bachrach stepping into roles made famous by Al Pacino and John Cazale.
If that sounds familiar, it should. It echoes last season’s revival of “Glengarry Glen Ross,” another Pacino-associated property retooled as a testosterone-heavy showcase for TV stars.
Lumet’s film, in which a Brooklyn bank robbery spirals into a hostage crisis, remains gripping, humane, and sharply observed — and easily accessible on streaming platforms. Guirgis preserves the outline of the story, but instead of tightening the material for the stage, he expands it, layering in new dialogue and extended bits of supporting character business that sap momentum. He also attempts to reconceive the central characters, adding bits of backstory and psychological shading that are interesting in theory but never cohere theatrically.
From the outset — a collage of radio chatter, news bulletins, and period detail — the production signals its interest in recreating 1970s New York at the outset of the Watergate era. But the accumulation of references to long-vanished institutions (Beefsteak Charlie’s, Crazy Eddie’s, and the like), along with sporadic commentary on the city’s political and cultural climate, feels less like texture than indulgence, cluttering scenes that ought to move with urgency.
Under the direction of Rupert Goold, the production leans into broadness. Scenes that should crackle instead drift into exaggerated, sometimes sitcom-like exchanges, leaving the show caught awkwardly between hostage thriller and ensemble comedy. Even the impressive revolving set, which fluidly shifts between the bank interior and the surrounding street, begins to feel overworked, with repeated transitions that stall rather than build momentum.
Bernthal’s Sonny is affable and almost boyishly eager — a more buoyant, less desperate figure than Pacino’s original. Moss-Bachrach’s Sal, meanwhile, is recast as a sullen, drug-addled presence. The bond between Sonny and Sal — the emotional spine of the story — never fully coheres, leaving the drama without a stable center.
Among the supporting cast, Jessica Hecht makes the strongest impression as Colleen, the head teller. With an expanded role, she brings welcome clarity and grounding, cutting through the surrounding noise.
Guirgis also appears intent on further exploring the film’s depiction of queer characters, but the effort proves uneven. The depiction of Leon, Sonny’s transgender partner, here played by Esteban Andres Cruz, feels uncertain in both tone and purpose — especially striking given that the relationship is positioned as a central emotional thread. The characterization veers noticeably from moment to moment, at one point playing as confrontational and aggressive in exchanges with the detective (John Ortiz), then shifting abruptly into a more fragile, weepy register while speaking on the phone with Sonny.
The production ends up straddling two audiences without fully satisfying either. The casting of actors associated with The Bear positions the show squarely within the current wave of male-driven, star-powered Broadway vehicles — the kind of “bro” drama built around familiar television faces — while the barrage of period references seems designed to evoke nostalgia for an older crowd.
What is gained by this adaptation? Little that wasn’t already achieved, more effectively, on screen. As a piece of theater, it feels less like a reimagining than a repackaging — a familiar property pressed into service as a showcase for recognizable television talent. Like the robbery at its center, it never quite comes together.
August Wilson Theatre, 245 W. 52nd St., dogdayafternoonbroadway.com. Through June 28.
