Since the NY Times review is being vilified as an outlier, note: Ms. Shaw offers a take that's not that far from Green's.
"But what does the sex-swap mean? Gender does not fold down the middle like a Rorschach blot. There are asynchronies and asymmetries, and the team tries to recut the show to fit. Occasionally, the combination of updating — people have cell phones — and gender-switching turns dialogue into nonsense. In a scene in which Bobbie visits the buttoned-up couple David (Christopher Fitzgerald) and Jenny (Nikki Renée Daniels), we’re meant to believe that the women find it hilarious that David gets high and curses. In 2021? These are “kiss my ass”– level swears. Fitzgerald is the funniest thing on legs, but even he can’t sell us that.
And why does this Bobbie slip away from commitment even at the advanced age (dry chuckle) of 35? (It feels a missed opportunity to not simply have Bobbie be gay. It might make her isolation much more perceptible, stuck as she is with too many straight-couple friends, feeling the pressure of the sudden availability of state-sanctioned queer matrimony.) A male Bobby does not really have a biological clock; his pressure is more psychological than obstetrical. Since no one mentions kids in Sondheim’s lyrics or Furth’s book scenes, Elliott has to add a non-speaking nightmare sequence, showing Bobbie’s tug-of-war between the attractions and repulsions of having a baby. It’s clearly not much on her mind, though, since the rest of the two and a half hours of the show focuses on Bobbie’s shallowness (she isn’t with the airline guy for his conversation) and her not-that-fun alcohol situation (she brings bourbon to a friend who’s on the wagon, which is a crummy move). After my first hour with her, I stopped thinking the show knew what was going on with this version of Bobbie either. And when she reaches the important realization in the script, Elliott gets it backwards. In the male version of the script, Bobby’s breakthrough comes when he, almost accidentally, admits he wants to be a giver as well as a taker. “But who will I take care of?” he asks, after a lifetime of dodging responsibility. Elliott swaps this, so Bobbie asks “But who will take care of me?” I hate to put so much pressure on a single line, but this gesture betrays the thinness of Elliott’s thinking. Bobbie has actually been dependent throughout, leaning on married friends for love, letting the world take her weight. Now, now we’re meant to think she’s finally ready to … be more dependent?"
"I'm a comedian, but in my spare time, things bother me." Garry Shandling