[Walter Burns is] the archetypal managing editor-ruthless, self-righteous, manipulative, downright maniacal if it means an exclusive, especially one that it can congratulate itself for on its own front page.

Elijah Wood confirms his standing as the foremost actor of his generation. ...Wood acts so eloquently with his sentient face and searching eyes that his job becomes one of concealing how redundant his spoken lines are - a tricky job he largely is able to bring off commendably.

They were fast-moving opportunists encased in cynicism and proud of it.

Björk’s wraparound swan frock . . . made her look like a refugee from the more dog-eared precincts of provincial ballet.

One of the things that will keep The Front Page burning bright as long as newspapers are alive is the myth that newspapermen are breezy and raffish. What other play has for so long fed the self-image of journalists?