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.