Les Misérables - Review

Sondheim Theatre, London

****

Concept, book and original French lyrics by Alain Boublil

Book and music by Claude-Michel Schönberg

Lyrics by Herbert Kretzmer

Directed by Laurence Connor and James Powell

Bradley Jaden and Jon Robyns

Arriving in London following a toured and international try-out, Les Misérables (or rather Les Mis 2.0 as the programme affectionately describes it) opens at Cameron Mackintosh’s newly revamped Sondheim (formerly the Queens) Theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue.

For nearly 35 years this behemoth of show has dominated the global musical theatre scene, spawning a movie treatment along the way and for one simple reason. For not only are Claude-Michel Schönberg’s melodies as stirring as they are heart-rending in equal measure, with Herbert Kretzmer’s lyrics skewering the very essence of humanity with wit and tenderness, but at the core of Les Misérables is Victor Hugo’s classic novel that is possibly unmatched in its ability to drive a musical. For however smart the words or snappy the tunes, a good show demands to be constructed upon a sound book and Hugo’s is the best. It may be set at least two centuries ago, but this epic tale of humanity, redemption, forgiveness, envy and greed still packs a relevant and oh-so timely punch, particularly as cries for the recognition of democracy have only recently been heard echoing around these isles. Did we hear the people sing (or vote)?

There are some modest, subtle changes to Kretzmer’s prose, but the tunes are still the same and the narrative still gorgeous. The Queens’ revolve has been rolled away and in its place are Matt Kinley's automated scenery trucks married to Finn Ross' ingenious projections. It is no wonder that this production has achieved such acclaim on tour with a technical portability that the original show never could match. For the most part the new designs generally deliver an innovative take on their predecessor, but it has not been a perfect transition. The tragic impact of the second half's Final Battle, where back in the day and with one half-turn the old revolve revealed the massacred students’ bodies, is not lived up to in v 2.0. The projections and techno-wizardry are fun though, as pyrotechnically enhanced fusillades ricochet around the auditorium (credit to Mick Potter's sound design). reminiscent of the audio brilliance of Saving Private Ryan’s opening battle scene.

[SPOILER ALERT] Javert’s Suicide is a (visual) treat. In place of the bridge’s balustrade being whisked up to the flies, the eponymous cop himself joins the flying squad. Indeed, so spectacular is Javert’s death that one is only left hoping for something even more celestially impressive for Jean Valjean’s last gasp. Sadly, when our hero does eventually expire, the moment is nowhere near as visually thrilling as Javert’s demise.

Vocally the piece remains a classy gathering of talent. Jon Robyns ages majestically through the piece as Valjean, his dramatic tenor tones catching the full range of his heroic character’s power and sensitivity. Opposite Robyn and hunting him across the years, Bradley Jaden captures Javert’s flawed but principled complexities.

Carrie Hope Fletcher sees a sideward promotion (to the Green Room for most of the show) as she takes over Fantine. Fletcher’s vocal talent and presence remains is amongst the finest of her generation and her singing exquisite. But is she a Fantine? Although this reviewer is unconvinced, Fletcher’s 500K Twitter followers may well have a different view. 

Hauled back in from the touring production, Ian Hughes’ Thénardier is in fine form capturing the show’s comic moments with perfect timing and delivery. Opposite him, the always outstanding Josefina Gabrielle’s Mme Thénardier is equally brilliant. But to take a step back for one moment, times have moved on since the 1980s. In this #MeToo era is it really right to be laughing so whole-heartedly at such a couple of child-abusers as the Thénardiers? The pair are actually terrifying monsters, rather than clowns. Elsewhere, the eternal triangle of Marius, Eponine, and Cosette is played well by Harry Apps, Shan Ako and Lily Kerhoas respectively. There is vocal talent here a ‘plenty but the true and passionate chemistry that these roles demand has yet to fully emerge.

Above all it is Kretzmer’s stunning lyrical treatment of those soaring French melodies (on press night, immaculately delivered under Steve Moss’ baton) woven around a story that is breathtaking in its scope that still define Les Misérables as a night of world class musical theatre.

Booking until 27th October

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Chess - Review

Coliseum, London


*****



Music by Benny Andersson & Björn Ulvaeus
Lyrics by Tim Rice
Book by Richard Nelson
Directed by Laurence Connor

Tim Howar and Michael Ball

Chess, born out of the collaboration of Tim Rice’s wit and the musical genius of ABBA’s Bjorn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson has long been regarded as a fusion of 1980s culture, kitsch and cliché – and for the last 30 odd years, London’s producers have shied away from reviving a show that once dominated the West End.

But for one month only and backed by a budget that itself reflects a fusion of subsidy and commerce, producers Michael Grade, Michael Linnit and the ENO have assembled a cornucopia of talent and technology, that blasts the show into the 21st century.

The plot revolves around the once-glamorous world of the international chess circuit and, in a metaphor that for so much of the last 70 years was true to life, reflects the conflict between the USA and (what was) the USSR, or Russia in more modern parlance. Michael Ball is Anatoly the Russian Grand Master. Opposite him, Tim Howar is Freddie Trumper his American counterpart, while in the wings are Cassidy Janson’s Florence (Trumper’s second) and Alexandra Burke who plays Anatoly’s wife Svetlana.

As the tale unfolds, classic East v West tropes are laid bare – though from a political perspective the programme notes comment on the production’s timeliness, with today’s relations between the West and Russia turning cold again. Some may argue that they were never really warm, but it nonetheless remains a breath of fresh air from London’s theatrical community to see that in 2018 it is still Russia, rather than the USA’s current administration, that poses a more significant threat.

Rice’s original story boils the politics down to a neat (if implausible) romance that develops between Anatoly and Florence. Along the way there are tantrums from the American, a defection, and in Michael Ball’s rendition of Anthem, surely up there as one of the best Act One closing numbers ever, a spine-tingling reminder of the beauty and passion that can truly be evoked by a love for one’s country. 

There’s actually so much more to this musical theatre extravaganza. Lavishly deployed projections and digital imagery serve not only as backdrops – but also to broadcast much of the musical’s highlights to the massive, ingenious displays. The multi-screen styling is multi-purposed, for not only do the (on-stage) video cameras serve to highlight the televised nature of the much of the narrative, they also enable those in the Coliseum’s cheap seats (correction, there are no cheap seats in the Coliseum) to have a decent view of the action.

Some of the show’s songs are among the finest in the modern canon. The second half kicks off with Howar’s One Night In Bangkok, here transformed into a festival of circus skills from the ensemble along with stunning video work from Terry Scruby. The musical highlight of the show’s impending endgame is the powerfully poignant ballad I Know Him So Well, sung by Florence and Svetlana. The projected live video of Cassidy and Burke hints at a wonderful throwback to the BBC’s Top Of The Pops – though younger readers may rather conclude that this show is emphatically putting the X-Factor into musical theatre.

Howar has a massive number late on with Pity The Child, an excoriating study of childhood neglect. Done to perfection, this song should make hairs stand on end – Howar is good, for sure, but he needs to dig a little deeper. 

Credit though to Lewis Osborne on guitar. It cannot be that often that the (80 strong!) ENO Orchestra get to deliver such a rock-heavy score and they do it here, under John Rigby’s baton, magnificently. Osborne’s riffs in Pity The Child are sensational.

Amidst the talent and technology, there’s time for some tongue in cheek too, with an Alpine-clad musician knocking out Thank You For The Music on the accordion, as a backdrop to one of the mountain-top scenes.

Under Stephen Mear's visionary choreography, the dance is spectacular. Mear moulding his company into routines that are imaginative and provocative. A nod to Fosse in the bowler-hatted, umbrella wielding (oh-so British) Embassy Lament is a touch of wonderful flair.

If you can get (or afford) a ticket, go and see this show, if only because the score is unlikely to be played quite so sumptuously ever again. The whole production makes for an evening of stunning musical theatre.

Runs until 2nd June
Photo credit: Brinkhoff Mögenburg

Miss Saigon

Prince Edward Theatre, London

****

Book and lyrics by Alain Boublil

Concept, book and music by Claude Michel Schonberg

Lyrics by Richard Maltby Jnr

Additional lyrics by Michael Mahler

Directed by Laurence Connor

Jon Jon Briones as The Engineer

Cameron Mackintosh is the consummate showman. His re-launch of Miss Saigon, some 25 years after it first landed on a London stage has already recouped its reported £4.5million investment and it appears that not a penny has been wasted. His excellent cast is large and immaculately rehearsed, whilst the design and technical wizardry of his creative team is further evidence of the capital's world class reputation in stagecraft. 

The show re-works Puccini’s classic tale from Madam Butterfly, setting it amongst the melee of the fall of Saigon in 1975, and introducing The Engineer, an (anti) hero Eurasian pimp and one of the finest characters to be written for musical theatre in recent years. A man whose only loyalty is to himself and to whom knowing and exploiting the weaknesses of all men is second nature, he dreams of a new life in the USA. His portrayal in this production by US actor Jon Jon Briones is a revelation. Briones holds the audience in the palm of his hand throughout, with his act two showstopper The American Dream being a glorious comment upon Western greed and cynicism. 

Eva Noblezada plays Kim, the virginal Saigon bar girl caught up in a whirlwind romance with GI Chris, and who falls pregnant just as her lover is flown out of Vietnam with the US withdrawal. Noblezada, who incredibly is making her professional stage debut in the role, is gorgeously convincing and fabulously voiced as she evolves from timid country girl to fiercely protective mother. Her character’s story is not as striking as her performance however and there is too much of her journey that is clichéd melodrama, with plotlines that defy credibility. 

The beauty of this show though lies in its staging and in the talent that Mackintosh has assembled on one stage. Bob Avian’s original choreography has been re-worked and the clarity of his vision is no better demonstrated than in the phenomenal routines of a flag waving communist army in act one’s The Morning Of The Dragon, contrasted with the dollar-bill and Cadillac extravaganza of the second half’s The American Dream, both numbers being sensational. Amidst much (occasionally tiresome) musical motif repetition, other tunes stand out, notably The Movie In My Mind, sung by Kim and fellow bargirl GiGi a perceptive performance from Rachelle Ann Go,  whose plaintive lyrics speak too of the dream to flee their Saigon poverty and build a new life in the USA, the land of the movies.If The Engineer is the show’s best creation, then this number is arguably one of its best songs.

Miss Saigon also bears a nod to the legacy of the Bui Doi, the mixed-race kids that feckless GIs left behind. Act two opens with Bui Doi, an anthemic number that champions these youngsters’ cause and in which, 25 years ago, John played by Peter Polycarpou broke hearts at Drury Lane as he sang. Today’s John is played by Hugh Maynard and the song is a disappointing rush, set to a beat that is at odds with the melody’s pulse. As with Boublil and Schonberg's Les Miserables, the entire production is set to music, with nearly every line of dialog in rhyme which often proves a naïve distraction. Along with the 2 minute gimmick of an on-stage helicopter these are a reminder of just how far audience expectations have grown over the last two decades. Gimmicks are out and strong songs are in – hence the rise of the juke box musical across both Broadway and the West End. Audiences want to tap their feet.

Immaculate to look at for sure, no doubt Miss Saigon will provide employment for many and will also channel much tourist wealth into both the London economy and the (deserving) coffers of Mackintosh whose philanthropic support of musical theatre is nothing short of remarkable. It’s not a must see by any means, but it is undoubtedly one hell of a show!

Booking until 2015