The Lucille Lortel Theater holds up to 299 seats, none of which—if my own experience of Holidelic is any guide—will get much use during this run. The organs meant to occupy them will be in perpetual motion, as will the fluorescent white Afro wigs favored by Everett Bradley—spawn, one assumes, of George Clinton’s torrid fling with Mrs. Claus—and his funky, too-hip-for-your-momma’s-Christmas-music fans. —E.E.