The Best and Worst of the 74th Tony Awards

Despite an evening split between streaming and TV, the message on Sunday night was clear: Broadway is back.

There were lots of great numbers during the first half of the Tonys, and even a few in the second half. But no one else did what Holliday did when she planted herself center stage and let rip with “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going.” It’s not just that she sings her signature song like no one ever sang anything. It’s that the singing is secondary, merely the outward expression of something much larger within her. Musical theater at its best delivers the human soul, in joy or agony or confidence or shame, to an audience willing to receive it; it’s a communion. For a few minutes, 40 years after she first bowled us over, she did it again, in joy, agony, confidence and shame. JESSE GREEN

As red carpets go, the one at the Tony Awards is often defined by what it doesn’t have: an hour of commentary from E!, high fashion affiliations and monthslong angst about who will wear which designer. But what it lacks in commercialization, it makes up for in heart, especially this year, with Broadway having just reopened after the devastation of the pandemic shutdowns. Instead of action heroes in penguin suits, you get David Byrne in a royal blue get-up, no tie and white brogues. And wherever the golden-boy Jeremy O. Harris goes, the carpets sparkle a little brighter. STELLA BUGBEE

Sonya Tayeh’s striking goth-goddess look at Sunday night’s Tonys — a shiny black tux with a cummerbund and no blouse; sleek hip-length black hair on one half of her head, the other half shaved; large, shimmering hoops and a lip piercing — would have been enough to land her on any list of bests. But it was her moving acceptance speech for best choreography, for “Moulin Rouge! The Musical,” that shook me. Delivered so calmly and thoughtfully, it shifted the energy of the room. Tayeh, 44, said: “As a brown, queer, Arab American woman, I wasn’t always welcomed. It takes graceful hands to lead people like me to the door.” Her mother is Lebanese; her Palestinian father, who was not part of her upbringing, died when she was young. “It’s been 10 years since a woman has won this award,” she continued. “Though I’m honored to be part of this legacy, this legacy is too small.” MAYA SALAM