Bernadette Peters and Jan Maxwell Dazzle in "Follies"

Actresses must love Stephen Sondheim. While the composer/lyricist,who basically defined American musical theater in an era of Webbers and Schonbergs, has certainly crafted soaring, complex ballads for his male protagonists — “Being Alive” from Company and “Finishing the Hat” from Sunday in the Park with George spring to mind — it is usually his women who get the showstoppers.

And while he has created some memorable ingenues in his time, the real musical zingers are usually given to what would appear to be Sondheim’s favorite character type: an embittered and acid-tongued yet oddly sexy middle-aged vamp. Usually the character is a supporting player, such as A Little Night Music’s Charlotte or the Witch from Into the Woods. But with Follies, now in previews at the Marquis Theater in New York, it is these women who own the show and get the final bow.

Follies is, to put it simply, a difficult work to tackle. There are a lot of moving parts. While the shell of the story concerns a group of performers returning to the vaudeville stage that made them famous decades earlier on the eve of its destruction — it is to be razed to the ground, a parking lot left in its place — the show takes a pointed look at how time can twist our memories and distort our perceptions of our lives and our lovers.

For such a "moody" show, much rests on the design, which was fantastic. Eerily lit by Natasha Katz, the entire Marquis Theater was decked out in drab dropcloths, creating the illusion of an abandoned, ancient music hall. Its instant transformation into a bright, bawdy theater in the second act is a testament to scene designer Derek McLane. And an ominous wind whistled through the air as the ghosts of showgirls past roamed aimlessly about the stage, drifting in and out of the living action.

These phantoms, which act as corporeal memories, soon begin to follow behind the older versions of themselves, and this bit of magical realism helps to elevate the show miles above what could have simply been a "What have I done with my life?" pity party. In Sondheim's world, there is no difference between light and shadow, between cheerful optimism and bitter regret. One's youth and old age can coalesce, interact, and, hey, even sing a duet.

Two married couples — Ben (Ron Raines) and Phyllis (Jan Maxwell), and Buddy (Danny Burstein) and Sally (the legendary Bernadette Peters) — are reunited in this historic night, and the second song has barely begun before we learn that Sally and Ben had had an affair long ago, and that Sally never recovered from it. She believes Ben is the love of her life, the man she should have married.

Ben, well, he's another story.

While much of the action of the first act concerns the nervous dancing around each other that Sally and Ben perform, which is clearly and bitterly observed by their respective spouses, the act is punctuated by performances delivered by the aging showgirls reliving for one night the glory of their collective past, and it is here that the show occasionally falters. Some of these numbers are spectacular, most notably “Who’s That Woman”, featuring a fabulous Terri White as the energetic diva Stella. This is a full scale production number, the only one of the first act, and was nothing short of outstanding.

Less memorable was the song that has become an anthem for life in show business, “I’m Still Here". Recently the song was performed to perfection and caught on film at Sondheim’s 80th birthday concert by Elaine Stritch, an actress who has certainly been around the block enough to earn a fierce number about the tenacity one needs to survive a life spent performing. In her hands, it was exquisite. But in this production, sung by Elaine Paige with a sort of wistful flirtatiousness, a song that should have brought the house down felt like a missed opportunity.

But that’s a minor gripe for such a well-rounded production. Following the nostalgic first act, we’re brought more fully into the psychology of our four leads, beginning with the blistering retaliatory assault “Could I Leave You?” (performed with beautiful ferocity by Ms. Maxwell) and tumbling into an extended fantasy sequence in which Buddy, Sally, Phyllis, and Ben each get a turn at a solo vaudeville number. This is the moment in the show that removed all doubt about this being a truly first-class revival.

Bernadette Peters and Jan Maxwell are bottled lightning on stage. Even while Ms. Peters was given the slowest song of the sequence, the torch song “Losing my Mind”, she commanded the stage like the seasoned pro she is. For the uptempo “The Story of Lucy and Jessie”, Ms. Maxwell was all legs and flying blond hair, a complete turnaround from her former conservative characterization.

Of the men, it’s Danny Burstein who is the born entertainer. His clownish solo “The God-Why-Don’t-You-Love-Me Blues” was the perfect ironic antidote to his character’s woe-is-me brooding earlier in the night. As Ben, Ron Raines has less to do and less energy to do it with, and it didn’t always read why Sally would have spent her life mooning over him. On the other hand, perhaps that’s the point - what Sally desires is the memory of Ben, played by the feisty Nick Verina, who strung Sally along even as he proposed to Phyllis.

Follies is vintage Sondheim, with every song feeling like a full story, every character fleshed out and real. (Even the ghosts.) Under the sure hand of director Eric Schaeffer, the revival is everything the book deserves, and I highly recommend it.