The Light in the Piazza (Saturday, 1.28.06)
Vivian Beaumont Theatre, New York, NY
By: Adam Guettel (music, lyrics), Craig Lucas (book)
Starring: Victoria Clark (Margaret Johnson), Katie Clarke (Clara Johnson), David Burnham (Fabrizio Naccarelli, u/s), Chris Sarandon (Signor Naccarelli), Michael Berresse (Giuseppe Naccarelli), Sara Uriarte Berry (Franca Naccarelli), Patti Cohenour (Signora Naccarelli), Beau Gravitte (Roy Johnson)
This is my first viewing of this show since the major cast changes, and the good news to report is that it is still a strong piece. While none of the replacement actors is as strong as strong as the actors they replace, each brings their own qualities, and still connect in this remarkably beautiful piece. Still soaring is Adam Guettel’s tremendous score, and still touching is Craig Lucas’ beautifully constructed book. This was and remains the most beautiful and most touching new musical of last season.
Katie Clarke joins the cast as the fresh new Clara Johnson. Clarke looks the part and is particularly good as a sweet-faced 12-year-old, what she lacks is that soaring soprano which transforms easily into the more sensual 26-year-old woman that she really is. It is difficult, because Clarke replaced Kelli O’Hara, probably the perfect actress for the part, and by that yardstick she fails miserably. But she is a passable replacement, and certainly over time will grow into the part.
Understudying for Aaron Lazar is David Burnham, who is clearly having fun in a role that is a really well beyond his reach both vocally and dramatically. Burnham seems to be trying a little too hard in all respects. He is obviously playing the character, but he never really inhabits it like his predecessors. Nevertheless, it is fun to see an actor really relish his opportunity to go on stage.
Chris Sarandon is probably the best replacement of the three. His Naccarelli is a little more stern and a little less charming, but equally as compelling and appropriate for his character. He doesn’t sing particularly well, but the character doesn’t really call for that anyway. He counterbalances Victoria Clark’s performance quite well.
Victoria Clark is still the center of this show, and her performance is as rich and as moving, both vocally and dramatically, as ever. Each of her big numbers, particularly Fable, is so beautifully performed, and she peppers in her tremendous comic timing throughout the show. Her performance is truly a revelation, the kind of performance that marks a career. She makes the show truly memorable.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Review-The Voysey Inheritance (1.20.07)
The Voysey Inheritance (Saturday, 1.20.07)
Atlantic Theatre, New York City
By: Harley Granville Barker, adapted by David Mamet
Starring: Michael Stuhlbarg (Edward Voysey), Samantha Soule (Alice Maitland), Judith Roberts (Mrs. Voysey), Peter Maloney (George Booth), Fritz Weaver (Mr. Voysey), Steven Goldstein (Mr. Peacey), C.J. Wilson (Major Booth Voysey), Geddeth Smith (Rev. Evan Colpus), Tricia Paoluccio (Ethel Voysey), Rachel Black (Honor Voysey), Christopher Duva (Trenchard Voysey), Todd Weeks (Hugh Voysey)
Maintaining true to one’s moral center is difficult when one has to face the problem of balancing moral principles with taking care of one’s family. Such is the central premise of The Voysey Inheritance, which pits the morals of the younger Edward Voysey (Michael Stuhlbar), who learns shortly before his father’s death that the father has been improperly handling the firm’s accounts. After his father’s death, Edward decides he must continue to conceal this family secret, all the while attempting to make amends to the clients who have, without their knowledge, been bilked of their entire savings.
Voysey is faced, however, with a largely ungrateful family that is more concerned about its well-being, and with some difficult clients who, upon learning the secret, decide to attempt to blackmail him in order to save their own fortunes, even if at the expense of others. It is never quite clear whether Voysey is in fact being true to his own articulated principles, or whether he is simply talking the talk while doing something else. While there is nothing in Edward’s outer character or actions to suggest he is not being genuine, it is the trick of human nature that leads us to believe he may be deceiving us.
With this as the backdrop, Mamet’s new version of this classic play hops along at a quick pace. Mamet’s script is excellent – it is filled with humor and biting exchanges, and it is sufficiently ambiguous as to make us continually wonder if we really know what is going on. As Edward, Michael Stuhlbarg is quite good. His character is stilted and stiff, but there is a sense of question that he brings to the role that enhances the uncertainty.
There are several other quite good performances to accompany Mr. Stuhlbar’s, including Peter Maloney’s cantancorous George Booth and Steven Goldstein’s seemingly loyal but ultimately despicable Mr. Peacey. The ladies in the cast are also excellent, particularly Samantha Soule’s turn as Alice Maitland and Judith Robert’s fun portrayal of Mrs. Voysey.
The set is beautifully designed and fits appropriately in the Atlantic’s main stage. But it is Mamet’s script that crackles and pops to great effect. There is nothing dated about the Voysey Inheritance. It comes across as fresh and lively as it must have been the day it first premiered.
Atlantic Theatre, New York City
By: Harley Granville Barker, adapted by David Mamet
Starring: Michael Stuhlbarg (Edward Voysey), Samantha Soule (Alice Maitland), Judith Roberts (Mrs. Voysey), Peter Maloney (George Booth), Fritz Weaver (Mr. Voysey), Steven Goldstein (Mr. Peacey), C.J. Wilson (Major Booth Voysey), Geddeth Smith (Rev. Evan Colpus), Tricia Paoluccio (Ethel Voysey), Rachel Black (Honor Voysey), Christopher Duva (Trenchard Voysey), Todd Weeks (Hugh Voysey)
Maintaining true to one’s moral center is difficult when one has to face the problem of balancing moral principles with taking care of one’s family. Such is the central premise of The Voysey Inheritance, which pits the morals of the younger Edward Voysey (Michael Stuhlbar), who learns shortly before his father’s death that the father has been improperly handling the firm’s accounts. After his father’s death, Edward decides he must continue to conceal this family secret, all the while attempting to make amends to the clients who have, without their knowledge, been bilked of their entire savings.
Voysey is faced, however, with a largely ungrateful family that is more concerned about its well-being, and with some difficult clients who, upon learning the secret, decide to attempt to blackmail him in order to save their own fortunes, even if at the expense of others. It is never quite clear whether Voysey is in fact being true to his own articulated principles, or whether he is simply talking the talk while doing something else. While there is nothing in Edward’s outer character or actions to suggest he is not being genuine, it is the trick of human nature that leads us to believe he may be deceiving us.
With this as the backdrop, Mamet’s new version of this classic play hops along at a quick pace. Mamet’s script is excellent – it is filled with humor and biting exchanges, and it is sufficiently ambiguous as to make us continually wonder if we really know what is going on. As Edward, Michael Stuhlbarg is quite good. His character is stilted and stiff, but there is a sense of question that he brings to the role that enhances the uncertainty.
There are several other quite good performances to accompany Mr. Stuhlbar’s, including Peter Maloney’s cantancorous George Booth and Steven Goldstein’s seemingly loyal but ultimately despicable Mr. Peacey. The ladies in the cast are also excellent, particularly Samantha Soule’s turn as Alice Maitland and Judith Robert’s fun portrayal of Mrs. Voysey.
The set is beautifully designed and fits appropriately in the Atlantic’s main stage. But it is Mamet’s script that crackles and pops to great effect. There is nothing dated about the Voysey Inheritance. It comes across as fresh and lively as it must have been the day it first premiered.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
Review-The Coast of Utopia-Shipwreck (1.7.07)
The Coast of Utopia-Shipwreck (Sunday, 1.7.07, 3 p.m.)
Vivian Beaumont Theatre (Lincoln Center)
Starring: Brian F. O’Byrne (Alexander Herzen), Jennifer Ehle (Natalie Herzen), Josh Hamilton (Nicholas Ogarev), Jason Butler Harner (Ivan Turgenev), Billy Crudup (Vissarion Belinsky), Patricia Conolly (Mme. Haag), David Harbour (George Herwegh), Bianca Amato (Emma Herwegh), Ethan Hawke (Michael Bakunin), Adam Dannheisser (Karl Marx), Martha Plimpton (Natasha Tuchkov), Amy Irving (Maria Ogarev), Richard Easton (Leonty Ibayev)
In the opening moments of Shipwreck, the second part of Tom Stoppard’s Russian trilogy, Alexander Herzen appears, seated, suspended in the air as the sea, while wind-whipped sheets flutter below and around him. It is as if Herzen is out at sea, a single man amidst an ocean. But Herzen is not drowning, he does not seem lost and solitary, rather, he is floating in the heavens, treading treacherously above the raging sea beneath. It is a powerful image that makes the heart race, but more importantly, it is a powerful image that portends what will come in the next three hours.
During the miraculous proceedings that follow, the character of Herzen does struggle -- he struggles with his ideas, with his life, with his love, with his priorities. But Herzen is never swallowed up by it; rather, he remains the rapt focus of our attentions. Played brilliantly by Brian F. O’Byrne, Herzen captivates, with humor, with passion, with emotion -- we remain spellbound, waiting for each subsequent word to be formed by his lips. So captivating is O’Byrne that, were this part not so focused on Herzen, he would threaten to throw the entire proceedings out of balance.
If fact, though, O’Byrne is just one brilliant part of this magnificent second part of the trilogy. Here Stoppard is at his absolute best -- writing witty exchanges of ideas that would seem to be the kind of exchanges that these so-called intellectuals would have uttered. Whereas Part I seemed almost muted in these exchanges (and part of the reason for this, in retrospect, is the fact that Michael Bakunin, who was all about action and no substance, was the center of that part), here they shimmer and crackle.
The production also benefits by getting away from the Bakunin household to tell the much more poignant story of Herzen, Herzen's wife Natalie (a luminous Jennifer Ehle), and his deaf son. For while there is a good deal to admire and enjoy in Stoppard’s witty exchanges, the piece finds its emotional depth in what happens to the individual characters. It is in part two that we not only learn of the tragedies that befall Herzin, but also of the imprisonment of Bakunin, and the death of Billy Crudup’s compelling Belinsky, who figured so centrally in the latter half of The Voyage.
Shipwreck also benefits from historical events, which help to whip forward the action and propel the piece forward by giving more context. In this case, it is the second Paris revolution of 1848 which, while a big flop in the revolutionary sense, figured prominently into the thoughts of these Russian thinkers. The revolution also provides one of the more dramatic and captivating displays and innovative use of set pieces.
There are other excellent supporting performances here, particularly Jason Butler Harner, who is exudes warmth and thoughtfulness as the writer Turgenev. There is also David Harbour’s half-German George Herwegh, who is humorous as the overgrown child who is also Herzen’s wife’s lover. And Amy Irving delivers a delicious cameo appearance as Nicholas Ogarev’s wife, Maria, who refuses to give him a divorce and has some wonderfully lusty exchanges with Natalie.
Jack O’Brien’s seamless direction takes full advantage not only of his terrific central cast, but also of the large “chorus” which simulates the Russian peasantry. His use of simple elements -- such as tree branches -- to ground the piece to mother Russia is exemplary. O’Brien's efforts are well complemented by Bob Crowley’s sumptuous set and Kenneth Posner’s excellent lighting design. While The Voyage was an adequate prelude and introduction to Stoppard’s world of early 19th century Russia, nothing quite prepares you for the breathtaking pace and passion of part two. If in crafting Part III the creators can capture a fraction of the magic on display in Shipwreck, then they will have on their hands an enormous success.
Vivian Beaumont Theatre (Lincoln Center)
Starring: Brian F. O’Byrne (Alexander Herzen), Jennifer Ehle (Natalie Herzen), Josh Hamilton (Nicholas Ogarev), Jason Butler Harner (Ivan Turgenev), Billy Crudup (Vissarion Belinsky), Patricia Conolly (Mme. Haag), David Harbour (George Herwegh), Bianca Amato (Emma Herwegh), Ethan Hawke (Michael Bakunin), Adam Dannheisser (Karl Marx), Martha Plimpton (Natasha Tuchkov), Amy Irving (Maria Ogarev), Richard Easton (Leonty Ibayev)
In the opening moments of Shipwreck, the second part of Tom Stoppard’s Russian trilogy, Alexander Herzen appears, seated, suspended in the air as the sea, while wind-whipped sheets flutter below and around him. It is as if Herzen is out at sea, a single man amidst an ocean. But Herzen is not drowning, he does not seem lost and solitary, rather, he is floating in the heavens, treading treacherously above the raging sea beneath. It is a powerful image that makes the heart race, but more importantly, it is a powerful image that portends what will come in the next three hours.
During the miraculous proceedings that follow, the character of Herzen does struggle -- he struggles with his ideas, with his life, with his love, with his priorities. But Herzen is never swallowed up by it; rather, he remains the rapt focus of our attentions. Played brilliantly by Brian F. O’Byrne, Herzen captivates, with humor, with passion, with emotion -- we remain spellbound, waiting for each subsequent word to be formed by his lips. So captivating is O’Byrne that, were this part not so focused on Herzen, he would threaten to throw the entire proceedings out of balance.
If fact, though, O’Byrne is just one brilliant part of this magnificent second part of the trilogy. Here Stoppard is at his absolute best -- writing witty exchanges of ideas that would seem to be the kind of exchanges that these so-called intellectuals would have uttered. Whereas Part I seemed almost muted in these exchanges (and part of the reason for this, in retrospect, is the fact that Michael Bakunin, who was all about action and no substance, was the center of that part), here they shimmer and crackle.
The production also benefits by getting away from the Bakunin household to tell the much more poignant story of Herzen, Herzen's wife Natalie (a luminous Jennifer Ehle), and his deaf son. For while there is a good deal to admire and enjoy in Stoppard’s witty exchanges, the piece finds its emotional depth in what happens to the individual characters. It is in part two that we not only learn of the tragedies that befall Herzin, but also of the imprisonment of Bakunin, and the death of Billy Crudup’s compelling Belinsky, who figured so centrally in the latter half of The Voyage.
Shipwreck also benefits from historical events, which help to whip forward the action and propel the piece forward by giving more context. In this case, it is the second Paris revolution of 1848 which, while a big flop in the revolutionary sense, figured prominently into the thoughts of these Russian thinkers. The revolution also provides one of the more dramatic and captivating displays and innovative use of set pieces.
There are other excellent supporting performances here, particularly Jason Butler Harner, who is exudes warmth and thoughtfulness as the writer Turgenev. There is also David Harbour’s half-German George Herwegh, who is humorous as the overgrown child who is also Herzen’s wife’s lover. And Amy Irving delivers a delicious cameo appearance as Nicholas Ogarev’s wife, Maria, who refuses to give him a divorce and has some wonderfully lusty exchanges with Natalie.
Jack O’Brien’s seamless direction takes full advantage not only of his terrific central cast, but also of the large “chorus” which simulates the Russian peasantry. His use of simple elements -- such as tree branches -- to ground the piece to mother Russia is exemplary. O’Brien's efforts are well complemented by Bob Crowley’s sumptuous set and Kenneth Posner’s excellent lighting design. While The Voyage was an adequate prelude and introduction to Stoppard’s world of early 19th century Russia, nothing quite prepares you for the breathtaking pace and passion of part two. If in crafting Part III the creators can capture a fraction of the magic on display in Shipwreck, then they will have on their hands an enormous success.
Review-Les Miserables (1.5.07)
Broadhurst Theatre (Friday, 1.5.07, 8 p.m.)
Starring: Alexander Gemignani, Norm Lewis, Daphne Rubin-Vega, Gary Beach, Jenny Holloway, Adam Jacob, Celia Keenan-Bolger, Ali Ewoldt, Aaron Lazar
In bringing back Les Miserables so soon after it closed, Cameron Mackintosh was really constrained to keep the new production very close to the original. The show, which ran for so many years and was seen by so many, is still very fresh in the minds of many theatregoers. Mackintosh's decision to reprise, rather than revive, the show was, I think the right decision, as a total reconception of the show at this early time would be premature, and might cause a revolt by the audience. That said, Mackintosh still made the decision to take a fresh eye to the entire work from top to bottom, tweaking stage direction, lighting, costumes, and even re-orchestrating the entire work. His new casting, too, in some respects sought to break the mold and depart from what we're used to.
So were all these nips and tucks a success? Well, unfortunately they do little to enhance the show. For while this new production sounds and looks similar to what we're used to, in the end it feels like a lesser creature, toned down in impact and mood. The new and revised elements are, by and large, a disappointment, and none of these changes improve upon the originals. Indeed, in several small instances, the "new" work is clearly inferior to the original.
Of course, even the show that left Broadway three years ago was different from the original show that premiered on Broadway in 1987. Upon the approach of the 10th anniversary of the show, Mackintosh famously fired a majority of the company, entirely recast it, and made various “tweaks” to the staging, lighting and direction. He also eliminated nearly 20 minutes of music, trimming the show from three and a quarter hours to just under three. At that time, I was thoroughly impressed by how the show had been rejuvenated by the changes. Although I did not care for the cuts of music, at least they seemed innocuous in view of the entire piece.
But the justification at that time was that the show was sagging -- it was not at its best. It’s hard to understand the justification for many of the changes that have been ushered forth in this version. Let’s start with the new orchestrations. Mackintosh said in an interview that changes in electronic instrument technology justified a new view of the orchestrations, which were originally written back in the early-/mid-1980s. The new orchestrations certainly allow for a smaller orchestra; however, they are also largely a failure. In reorchestrating the score, they seem to have removed many of the melodic counterpoints with which the audience has become so familiar. The orchestra sounds hollowed out and thin -- the dramatic swells and poignant tugs (such as the eloquent oboe/French horn solos in “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables”) have either been removed or are so understated that they cannot be heard.
The production also seems especially dark. While the show has always been fairly dimly lit, everything appeared much dimmer and drab than usual. Sure, this is mid-nineteenth century France, and it was a dark time, but the contrasts in light and dark are necessary if, for no other reason, than to be able to see what is going on.
The changes in orchestration and the lighting are just two examples of how the overall piece has been toned down. Whether intentional or not, it almost seems as though this new production were specifically designed to match the more toned down sensibilities of the 21st century, as opposed to the overly dramatic (or melodramatic) sensibilities on the 1980s when the show was originally written. If this is the case, this was a big mistake.
The subtle changes in direction, too, seem directionless and unfocused, and in some cases don’t make any sense. In “A Little Fall of Rain,” Eponine sings much of the first part of the song sitting up and directly facing Marius, as opposed to lying more prone in Marius’ arms. This looks awkward, and also doesn’t make sense given that Eponine has just suffered a mortal injury and is dying. Similarly, in the final scene, Fantine actually touches Jean Valjean prior to Cosette and Marius’ entrance. In the original, a luminous Fantine hovers over Valjean, and does not actually touch him until he dies. This lovely effect is gone.
This less effective stage direction, as well as the weaker orchestrations, also highlight the various cuts in the original score, to bad effect. Come to Me, a previously lovely and touching number, has been so truncated that Fantine’s death now comes across as a footnote rather than a major event. Even the runaway cart is so short now that this important element of the storytelling is also lost in the shuffle.
In fact, the entire first act has a paint-by-numbers quality to it, with the actors striving to jam in as much storytelling as possible without actually feeling the moment. Whereas the original show swept over you (the details were there, but it was the sweep of the story and emotion that got you), here, it is as if the actors are going through by rote.
Which brings us to the actors, about whom much has been written. Here, while multi-culturalism certainly deserves applause, the results are mixed.
Alexander Gemignani, who has done some fine work previously (particularly in the recent Sweeney Todd revival) takes on the mammoth role of Jean Valjean. I was excited about this prospect, because while I thought he might be a little too young for the part, I thought vocally he could handle the role. Unfortunately, Gemignani appears here as two different actors. During the course of the first act of the show and into the second act, Gemignani appears stoic and emotionless. Although he has a wonderful clear tenor voice, he rarely displays it to its full effect. Even at the beginning of the show, when Valjean is at his angriest and is the most emotionally volatile, Gemignani seems understated. He goes through the motions -- he throws down his bag, he causes a ruckus, but he never seems genuinely angry. That emotional cool may have been effective when he was the Beadle, but just doesn't fit with Jean Valjean.
Suddenly, then, as if responding to some criticism from a judge on a reality show, Gemignani explodes during “Bring Him Home.” Although his rendition is at times a beautiful and impassioned plea, the level of emotion he injects is far too sudden. It's not clear why he should have such a burst of feelings, particularly for Marius, a character whom he has barely met. Given how his character has acted up to this point (he couldn't be more cool to his beloved Cosette), "Bring Him Home" doesn’t make any sense. There through the end of the show, Gemignani is in full emotional tilt. His schizophrenic performance demonstrates his lack of experience, as well as the lack of a steadying director’s hand.
Upstaging Gemignani in every respect is Norm Lewis, probably the most successful of the new casting. Lewis’s delicious baritone wraps around Javert’s persona. He is both hard-nosed and cold in his exchanges, but in his big numbers -- Stars and Javert’s suicide -- he demonstrates the inner turmoil that makes Javert tick. Notwithstanding his role as Jean Valjean's foil, Lewis's Javert feels at root very human. Lewis is absolutely terrific from start to finish.
Much has been written about Daphne Rubin-Vega’s Fantine. On the one hand, I was pleased to find she is not the disaster that has been made out (in particular, very unkind and unwarranted things have been said about her singing, which was completely on-pitch at the performance I saw). That said, she is totally miscast. Rubin-Vega’s Fantine has a lovely delicacy and physical frailty (Fantine is, after all, sick and dying), she comes across as labored (when was the last time your first emotion when she was done singing was one of relief?) The biggest problem is that her mannerisms -- both physical and vocal -- are out of the period and not in keeping with the character. And even though she comes across as physically frail and perhaps emotionally childlike, Rubin-Vega’s Fantine still seems at her core to be a little too emotionally solid. Maybe it's the Latina chutzpah in her that she can't seem to repress. I just didn't sense enough of Fantine's frailty and desperation.
Also disappointing, though in a different way, was Celia Keenan-Bolger’s Eponine. I’m not sure whether I caught her on an off-night, but vocally Keenan-Bolger seemed to struggle with her lower range and almost to come across as a little hoarse. Her rendition of “On My Own” was pretty, but not nearly as desolate and desperate as it should be. This song has been sung by so many actresses, and most successfully when it comes across as a plain cry for someone to hear. (The best example I’ve heard live is Natalie Toro’s heartwrenching and almost deafening rendition when I first saw the show in the 1980s, followed next by Lea Salonga’s somewhat more contemplative, but equally touching version.) Keenan-Bolger’s version is muted. I felt like she had no nuance -- I didn't see even a glimpse of the vulnerability that lies at the heart of Eponine. Keenan-Bolger also fails to register during "A Heart Full of Love," with her interjections with Marius and Cosette. Ordinarily, this is an absolutely heartwrenching song, and Eponine's counterpoints are its highlight. Here, her existence barely registered. It was an odd and unexpected performance, given the fine work she has done in recent years.
Adam Jacob and Ali Ewoldt do some nice work as Marius and Cosette, respectively. Though Jacob lacks the impetuousness of, say, Michael Ball, his Marius is still fraught with personal struggle, trying to figure out where his loyalties lie -- with his love or his country. Jacob also sings well, and is very good in his big Act II solo, Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. Ali Ewoldt delivers some nice vocal moments, and quite competently fills the difficult role of Cosette. She and Jacob also match well and have nice chemistry, and “A Heart Full of Love” is gorgeously performed.
Aaron Lazar is perfectly cast as the student leader Enjolras. Lazar’s powerful baritone and presence are exactly what are required for the role. He does some excellent work and is also a standout.
Finally, Gary Beach and Jenny Galloway are enjoyable as Thenardier and Madame Thenardier. Beach makes the most of the comic moments of his role, and yet is also sufficiently dark and sinister. Mme. Thenardier is quite funny in “Master of the House” and in her exchanges with Valjean, milking the most out of each comic moment.
The stage of the Broadhurst is significantly smaller than at either the Broadway or the Imperial where this show previously played. As a result, we are closer to the action and the show feels more intimate. I liked this feeling when I saw the show in London, where it plays at the Queens, also a small venue. But for some reason, that feeling was not captured here. I instead felt a little claustrophobic. I felt like the dramatic sweep of the show was lost. I do not think this was because of the stage, but rather because the whole show felt muted.
In the end, there is still much to admire about Les Miz, but despite this show's innate power and beauty, much of the dramatic momentum is either lost or never found in the first place. This new version of the show just seems too muted, too sensitive, too scared of wearing its emotional heart on its sleeve. Perhaps the creators have simply had too much time to think about this material. One senses that had the creators taken a little more care in what they changed, and had the director paid a little more attention to the otherwise talented actors, that this could have been a truly memorable theatre-going experience. Instead, what we see is a competent, but otherwise rather unmoving version of this beloved show. Devoted fans of the show, in fact, will likely spend much time recalling past performances where everything was done a bit better.
Starring: Alexander Gemignani, Norm Lewis, Daphne Rubin-Vega, Gary Beach, Jenny Holloway, Adam Jacob, Celia Keenan-Bolger, Ali Ewoldt, Aaron Lazar
In bringing back Les Miserables so soon after it closed, Cameron Mackintosh was really constrained to keep the new production very close to the original. The show, which ran for so many years and was seen by so many, is still very fresh in the minds of many theatregoers. Mackintosh's decision to reprise, rather than revive, the show was, I think the right decision, as a total reconception of the show at this early time would be premature, and might cause a revolt by the audience. That said, Mackintosh still made the decision to take a fresh eye to the entire work from top to bottom, tweaking stage direction, lighting, costumes, and even re-orchestrating the entire work. His new casting, too, in some respects sought to break the mold and depart from what we're used to.
So were all these nips and tucks a success? Well, unfortunately they do little to enhance the show. For while this new production sounds and looks similar to what we're used to, in the end it feels like a lesser creature, toned down in impact and mood. The new and revised elements are, by and large, a disappointment, and none of these changes improve upon the originals. Indeed, in several small instances, the "new" work is clearly inferior to the original.
Of course, even the show that left Broadway three years ago was different from the original show that premiered on Broadway in 1987. Upon the approach of the 10th anniversary of the show, Mackintosh famously fired a majority of the company, entirely recast it, and made various “tweaks” to the staging, lighting and direction. He also eliminated nearly 20 minutes of music, trimming the show from three and a quarter hours to just under three. At that time, I was thoroughly impressed by how the show had been rejuvenated by the changes. Although I did not care for the cuts of music, at least they seemed innocuous in view of the entire piece.
But the justification at that time was that the show was sagging -- it was not at its best. It’s hard to understand the justification for many of the changes that have been ushered forth in this version. Let’s start with the new orchestrations. Mackintosh said in an interview that changes in electronic instrument technology justified a new view of the orchestrations, which were originally written back in the early-/mid-1980s. The new orchestrations certainly allow for a smaller orchestra; however, they are also largely a failure. In reorchestrating the score, they seem to have removed many of the melodic counterpoints with which the audience has become so familiar. The orchestra sounds hollowed out and thin -- the dramatic swells and poignant tugs (such as the eloquent oboe/French horn solos in “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables”) have either been removed or are so understated that they cannot be heard.
The production also seems especially dark. While the show has always been fairly dimly lit, everything appeared much dimmer and drab than usual. Sure, this is mid-nineteenth century France, and it was a dark time, but the contrasts in light and dark are necessary if, for no other reason, than to be able to see what is going on.
The changes in orchestration and the lighting are just two examples of how the overall piece has been toned down. Whether intentional or not, it almost seems as though this new production were specifically designed to match the more toned down sensibilities of the 21st century, as opposed to the overly dramatic (or melodramatic) sensibilities on the 1980s when the show was originally written. If this is the case, this was a big mistake.
The subtle changes in direction, too, seem directionless and unfocused, and in some cases don’t make any sense. In “A Little Fall of Rain,” Eponine sings much of the first part of the song sitting up and directly facing Marius, as opposed to lying more prone in Marius’ arms. This looks awkward, and also doesn’t make sense given that Eponine has just suffered a mortal injury and is dying. Similarly, in the final scene, Fantine actually touches Jean Valjean prior to Cosette and Marius’ entrance. In the original, a luminous Fantine hovers over Valjean, and does not actually touch him until he dies. This lovely effect is gone.
This less effective stage direction, as well as the weaker orchestrations, also highlight the various cuts in the original score, to bad effect. Come to Me, a previously lovely and touching number, has been so truncated that Fantine’s death now comes across as a footnote rather than a major event. Even the runaway cart is so short now that this important element of the storytelling is also lost in the shuffle.
In fact, the entire first act has a paint-by-numbers quality to it, with the actors striving to jam in as much storytelling as possible without actually feeling the moment. Whereas the original show swept over you (the details were there, but it was the sweep of the story and emotion that got you), here, it is as if the actors are going through by rote.
Which brings us to the actors, about whom much has been written. Here, while multi-culturalism certainly deserves applause, the results are mixed.
Alexander Gemignani, who has done some fine work previously (particularly in the recent Sweeney Todd revival) takes on the mammoth role of Jean Valjean. I was excited about this prospect, because while I thought he might be a little too young for the part, I thought vocally he could handle the role. Unfortunately, Gemignani appears here as two different actors. During the course of the first act of the show and into the second act, Gemignani appears stoic and emotionless. Although he has a wonderful clear tenor voice, he rarely displays it to its full effect. Even at the beginning of the show, when Valjean is at his angriest and is the most emotionally volatile, Gemignani seems understated. He goes through the motions -- he throws down his bag, he causes a ruckus, but he never seems genuinely angry. That emotional cool may have been effective when he was the Beadle, but just doesn't fit with Jean Valjean.
Suddenly, then, as if responding to some criticism from a judge on a reality show, Gemignani explodes during “Bring Him Home.” Although his rendition is at times a beautiful and impassioned plea, the level of emotion he injects is far too sudden. It's not clear why he should have such a burst of feelings, particularly for Marius, a character whom he has barely met. Given how his character has acted up to this point (he couldn't be more cool to his beloved Cosette), "Bring Him Home" doesn’t make any sense. There through the end of the show, Gemignani is in full emotional tilt. His schizophrenic performance demonstrates his lack of experience, as well as the lack of a steadying director’s hand.
Upstaging Gemignani in every respect is Norm Lewis, probably the most successful of the new casting. Lewis’s delicious baritone wraps around Javert’s persona. He is both hard-nosed and cold in his exchanges, but in his big numbers -- Stars and Javert’s suicide -- he demonstrates the inner turmoil that makes Javert tick. Notwithstanding his role as Jean Valjean's foil, Lewis's Javert feels at root very human. Lewis is absolutely terrific from start to finish.
Much has been written about Daphne Rubin-Vega’s Fantine. On the one hand, I was pleased to find she is not the disaster that has been made out (in particular, very unkind and unwarranted things have been said about her singing, which was completely on-pitch at the performance I saw). That said, she is totally miscast. Rubin-Vega’s Fantine has a lovely delicacy and physical frailty (Fantine is, after all, sick and dying), she comes across as labored (when was the last time your first emotion when she was done singing was one of relief?) The biggest problem is that her mannerisms -- both physical and vocal -- are out of the period and not in keeping with the character. And even though she comes across as physically frail and perhaps emotionally childlike, Rubin-Vega’s Fantine still seems at her core to be a little too emotionally solid. Maybe it's the Latina chutzpah in her that she can't seem to repress. I just didn't sense enough of Fantine's frailty and desperation.
Also disappointing, though in a different way, was Celia Keenan-Bolger’s Eponine. I’m not sure whether I caught her on an off-night, but vocally Keenan-Bolger seemed to struggle with her lower range and almost to come across as a little hoarse. Her rendition of “On My Own” was pretty, but not nearly as desolate and desperate as it should be. This song has been sung by so many actresses, and most successfully when it comes across as a plain cry for someone to hear. (The best example I’ve heard live is Natalie Toro’s heartwrenching and almost deafening rendition when I first saw the show in the 1980s, followed next by Lea Salonga’s somewhat more contemplative, but equally touching version.) Keenan-Bolger’s version is muted. I felt like she had no nuance -- I didn't see even a glimpse of the vulnerability that lies at the heart of Eponine. Keenan-Bolger also fails to register during "A Heart Full of Love," with her interjections with Marius and Cosette. Ordinarily, this is an absolutely heartwrenching song, and Eponine's counterpoints are its highlight. Here, her existence barely registered. It was an odd and unexpected performance, given the fine work she has done in recent years.
Adam Jacob and Ali Ewoldt do some nice work as Marius and Cosette, respectively. Though Jacob lacks the impetuousness of, say, Michael Ball, his Marius is still fraught with personal struggle, trying to figure out where his loyalties lie -- with his love or his country. Jacob also sings well, and is very good in his big Act II solo, Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. Ali Ewoldt delivers some nice vocal moments, and quite competently fills the difficult role of Cosette. She and Jacob also match well and have nice chemistry, and “A Heart Full of Love” is gorgeously performed.
Aaron Lazar is perfectly cast as the student leader Enjolras. Lazar’s powerful baritone and presence are exactly what are required for the role. He does some excellent work and is also a standout.
Finally, Gary Beach and Jenny Galloway are enjoyable as Thenardier and Madame Thenardier. Beach makes the most of the comic moments of his role, and yet is also sufficiently dark and sinister. Mme. Thenardier is quite funny in “Master of the House” and in her exchanges with Valjean, milking the most out of each comic moment.
The stage of the Broadhurst is significantly smaller than at either the Broadway or the Imperial where this show previously played. As a result, we are closer to the action and the show feels more intimate. I liked this feeling when I saw the show in London, where it plays at the Queens, also a small venue. But for some reason, that feeling was not captured here. I instead felt a little claustrophobic. I felt like the dramatic sweep of the show was lost. I do not think this was because of the stage, but rather because the whole show felt muted.
In the end, there is still much to admire about Les Miz, but despite this show's innate power and beauty, much of the dramatic momentum is either lost or never found in the first place. This new version of the show just seems too muted, too sensitive, too scared of wearing its emotional heart on its sleeve. Perhaps the creators have simply had too much time to think about this material. One senses that had the creators taken a little more care in what they changed, and had the director paid a little more attention to the otherwise talented actors, that this could have been a truly memorable theatre-going experience. Instead, what we see is a competent, but otherwise rather unmoving version of this beloved show. Devoted fans of the show, in fact, will likely spend much time recalling past performances where everything was done a bit better.
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