Theatre in Review: Les Misérables (Imperial Theatre)

	Andy Mientus, Nikki M. James. Photo: Matthew Murphy

Attention, everyone: Les Misérables is back on Broadway, as big as life and twice as bombastic. I hear some of you in the back of the room grumbling, Why do we need a revival of a show that ran 6,680 performances the first time out, closing only 11 years ago, and which ran for an additional 463 performances between 2006 and 2008? Let me just say that, if you're going to take that attitude, you're not going to have much fun on Broadway these days!

Actually, this new production has a rationale of sorts: The producer, Cameron Mackintosh, is now presenting refreshed versions of his three crown jewel properties. The US is now seeing a new Phantom of the Opera, with direction by Laurence Connor and a different design team; the same thing is to be done with Miss Saigon, which opens in the West End in May. The third warhorse to be trotted out of the paddock, Les Misérables, has also benefited from fresh eyes.

First, however, a full disclosure: I am not now, nor have I ever been, a fan of Les Miz. It certainly has its moments, but, to my mind, the necessary compression of Victor Hugo's boulder of a novel into slightly less than three hours of running time only highlights the many contrivances of the ludicrously coincidence-riddled narrative. (As a friend of mine once commented about the novel, apparently there are only five people in Paris, so often do they run into each other.) Then there's the score, which takes every single emotion to be found and underlines it, boldfaces it, and prints it in 24-point type. Many find Les Miz to be deeply moving, even inspiring; I have always found it to be fatiguing.

Still, for that not inconsiderable portion of the population that has always thrilled to Les Miz, this is a Les Miz that packs many thrills. First among them is the Jean Valjean of Ramin Karimloo. A West End favorite, he has also appeared in Phantom of the Opera and Miss Saigon. (I saw him bravely soldiering through Love Never Dies, Andrew Lloyd Webber's disastrous Phantom sequel.) Quite simply, he has it all: looks, presence, the ability to convey Valjean's moral gravity, and oh, what a voice. He delivers magnficently in big arias like "Who Am I?," in which Valjean decides to escape his prisoner past by assuming a new identity, and, in a musical that far too many performers see as a license to scream their heads off, he brings down the house with a hushed and finely controlled "Bring Him Home," Valjean's prayer to God in the midst of revolution. Even for those who, like me, are a little bit Les Miz-averse, Karimloo might make this production worth checking out.

As the insanely dedicated Javert, who hunts Valjean across the decades, determined to bring him to justice for breaking his parole, Will Swenson earns plenty of bravos as well. His Javert has a laser-like focus combined with an overlay of Christian piety that makes him a most formidable antagonist. All of this is laid out in the first-act ballad "Stars," which he delivers with furious intensity. He also disintegrates convincingly in "Soliloquy," the number that ends with his suicide. A fresh face, Kyle Scatliffe, also impresses as Enjolras, the leader of the student uprising that drives the main part of the narrative. Gifted with an imposing physical presence and a voice that is effective on both ends of the dynamic scale, he makes us see why Enjolras is such a natural leader that others will put their lives on the line for him.

Not everything is as satisfying about Laurence Connor and co-director James Powell's production. The Fantine of Caissie Levy seems more professional than heartfelt, even as she belts her way through "I Dreamed a Dream." Cosette and Marius, the show's young lovers, always seemed to me to have wandered in from a revival of Blossom Time or some half-forgotten Lehár operetta; here, Samantha Hill and Andy Mientus are competent but not really exciting. One of the great absurdities of Les Miz is that Marius sees all of his friends killed in battle, leading him to deliver the bitter "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables." (This provides Mientus with his best moment of the evening.) Then that's it; mourning is over, and we're off to the high-society wedding of Cosette and Marius, who seem only too happy to rejoin the wealthy 1% of France. Apparently, their compassion for the downtrodden has its limits. (Or maybe they think the cost of their extravagant ceremony will trickle down to the deserving poor.)

The Thénardiers, those thieving, child-abusing innkeepers, remain the least amusing comic villains in the history of musical theatre, and their two big in-your-face numbers, "Master of the House" and "Beggars at the Feast," are simply trials to be endured during this Lenten season. Cliff Saunders and Keala Settle throw themselves into these roles, but really, less would be more. Nikki M. James seems distractingly contemporary as the tragic Éponine, and her vocals are a bit shrill, but she turns "On My Own" into a vividly anguished musical monologue that easily stops the show.

Even those who loved the original John Napier scenery and David Hersey lighting will find much to like here in Matt Kinley's new set design, which includes a tri-level slum streetscape and a suitably spectacular barricade for the battle scenes. A novel addition is a series of projections, also by Kinley, taken from paintings by Victor Hugo. In addition to being evocative, they add a kinetic charge to the staging; a tracking shot of a Paris street behind the marching revolutionaries enlivens the first-act finale "One Day More," and, with a sweeping downward movement, the projections take us from above ground into the sewers of Paris, where Valjean and Javert have their fateful final meeting. (The projections were realized by Fifty-Nine Productions.) Paule Constable's lighting employs daringly low levels of illumination to carve the performers out of the darkness; she also puts the battle scenes under a harsh white glare and uses moving beams excitingly as the battle rages. Andreane Neofitou is again the costume designer, this time in concert with Christine Rowland, and they provide everything from peasant rags to an array of lovely pastel ball gowns. Mick Potter's sound is perfectly intelligible, even in the chorus numbers, without being overbearing.

And, at the performance I attended, the audience offered bravos after each number, suggesting that it has become an old friend to be revisited over and over, in the same way the Metropolitan Opera audiences never tire of seeing Carmen or Tosca. If Les Misérables is destined to be as inevitable as death and taxes, at least Mackintosh and company are guaranteeing it a first-class presentation.--David Barbour