Review by Ron Fassler . . .
I don’t think I’m alone in thinking, after seeing Billy Crystal’s new autobiographical one-man show, 860, that he should officially be designated a national treasure. At seventy-eight, he still has boundless energy and, if anything, has sharpened his already terrific comic timing. A walking role model of stability and kindness, he’s an exemplary father, grandfather, and husband to Janice, his wife of fifty-six years. Forever connected to his Jewish roots, he’s still that kid from Long Island who’s looking to make you laugh. As he commanded the sold-out audience of 1,457 at the Imperial Theatre, the audience seemed to take comfort in the shade of the mighty redwood he’s become. Trust me, if you walk into 860 already a huge fan, you’ll come out after 95 minutes a fanatic.
The last time Crystal brought a solo show to Broadway was 700 Sundays, for which he won a Tony Award for Special Theatrical Event. It was pure nostalgia for a different era, the title referring to an approximate count of how little time he had with his father, Jack, who died suddenly of a heart attack in 1963 when young Billy was fifteen. Though the play had some sadness to it, it was mostly a series of hilarious stories wrapped in the warm embrace of his extended family, who helped him get through the crisis. Through his portrayals of more than twenty characters, including relatives like his Uncle Milt and Aunt Sheila, it gave Crystal the chance to do hilarious impersonations, something at which he has always excelled in his comedy monologues. And if you still yearn for some of those, in 860 he provides his famous spins on Muhammad Ali, Howard Cosell, and even Fernando, his thinly veiled tribute to Fernando Lamas, a character he perfected during his one-year stint on Saturday Night Live in the 1980s.
860, though often riffing on the past, contains stories that are more about the present and how Crystal and his family are still getting through the trauma of the January 2025 California wildfires that destroyed their home of forty-six years. The worst damage was in the communities of Altadena and Pacific Palisades, where Crystal’s home stood at 860 Chautauqua Boulevard. The story of how he and his wife found the place, and the weird twists of fate that made it seem inevitable that they were meant to be its caretakers, is told so beautifully that it makes you realize Crystal is not only a comedian par excellence but has always been storyteller at heart whose stock in trade serves him splendidly as a playwright. And let’s not forget what a good actor he is, as if that weren’t already evident from the multitude of roles he’s played over the years. Sure, he’s always Billy Crystal (he’s no Gary Oldman or Daniel Day-Lewis, transforming himself every time out), but he is truthful and, most importantly, funny.
Director Scott Ellis brings a masterful, assured hand to the proceedings. The tone is pitch-perfect, and the work he gets from three-time Tony Award-winning scenic designer Scott Pask is wonderfully detailed. The set, a replica of Crystal’s home office, hold all the cherished objects he’s collected over the years. Some are silly (he calls his statue of Mike Wazowksi from Pixar’s Monsters Inc. “a CBS eye with teeth”), some personal (a collection of the clapperboards from all the movies he’s directed), and some worthy of a museum (an actual seat from the old Yankee Stadium signed by his idol and late-in-life friend, Mickey Mantle). Not one of his artifacts survived the fire.
Hana S. Kim and Kylee Loera have created projection designs that at times fill the Imperial’s large stage, threatening to overwhelm it but never doing so. Videos straight from Crystal’s phone are projected onto the set with crystal clarity and serve as a visual guide of his life at 860 both pre- and post-fire. Aided by Jen Schriever’s evocative lighting is Dan Moses Schreier’s sound design which augments the action with everything from the honking horns of cars fleeing the fires, to the sound of a bird that might have been Robin Williams checking in on Crystal after his death in 2014.
Not only has Crystal had to contend with the loss of his beloved home in the first month of 2025, but he also lost his best friend, Rob Reiner, in the final month of the year. His willingness to share his deepest thoughts and feelings, while remaining true to form and dealing with it using his insightful gift of laughter, give the show a poignance that put tears in my eyes.
I went to 860 fully expecting something funny but sad, which is what I got, sure. What I didn’t imagine was that it was going to be deeply funny and profoundly sad. It’s as if the show were blessed by Miracle Max himself.
At the Imperial Theatre, 249 W 45th Street, NYC now through February 14, 2027. For further information, visit 860.
Photos by Avery Brunkus.
