The most revealing moment in Broadway’s new Stephen Sondheim revue is not a musical one, but the opening statement, which, as with those announcements about strobe lighting and theatergoers with pacemakers, is delivered as a warning: “If you are put off by the idea of thinking, go see Cats,” says Bronson Pinchot, dressed as an usher and draped casually over the lip of the Ethel Barrymore’s stage.

Got it, Bronson. This is the thinking man’s Cats, right? Unfortunately, not all my fellow audience members are as smart as I am, so Mr. Pinchot feels obliged to spell it out. Putting It Together, he says, is not a “revue” but a “review.” And why would that be? “Because,” he says, “Stephen Sondheim expects you to think.”

Well, I did. What I mainly thought, about twenty minutes in, was that I’d rather be at Kiss Me, Kate. For thirty years, Sondheim’s act ...

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