Les Mis Still Has Something to Smile About
As the wave of new musicals that roared into the West End this summer begins to slowly wash back out to sea, we sent one of our writers down to check whether a West End classic is still riding as high as ever.
Les Misérables has been playing to audiences in the capital for over 22 years. In fact, when the show made its London premier on October 8th, 1985, at The Barbican Arts Centre, I was little more than a spluttering infant, barely three weeks old.
In all that great gulf of time between then and yesterday I had never so much as seen one minute of the musical that has become such a staple attraction in London's West End. So, needless to say, when I turned up at the Queen's Theatre last night I was not just a little anxious about finding out what all this fuss was about. What's more, me not seeing this thing was getting, well, kind of embarrassing. Case in point: as we managed to find our way to the stalls underneath the huge vaulted ceiling, ringed with golden neo-classical wreathes and padded with glowing lanterns, I listened to the hushed chatter of the other audience members. I could hear people muttering away confidently about the new cast and the like and I thought: 'hang on; crikey, am I the only person here not to have seen this thing before?' There was little time for me to get nervous however, the lights dimmed, gobos sent whistling clouds racing over the teaser curtain and the strings rose from the pit with loud and ominous strokes. 'Go easy with me', I gulped, 'this is my first time...'
The action begins in 1815 in Toulon. A year into the French Restoration, we see life for those held at His Majesty's pleasure. A rough chain gang grunt and toil in some subterranean sweat-box. Dank, dingy and choked with thick smoke, the only light comes from the scorching sun that cascades through what looks like some sort of sewer-grates. Look Down is the song that opens the show and sets the atmosphere for the Prologue. "The poor", wrote Victor Hugo, "who have sunk so low are rarely not to be degraded in the process." This, it would seem, is the principal consideration of the first few scenes, which show how 'Jean Valjean' (Drew Sarich), imprisoned for 19 years for little more than stealing a loaf of bread, has become a callous and suspicious man. Finally released from incarceration, Valjean must, as stipulated by the conditions of his parole, carry with him a yellow ticket-of-leave wherever he goes to show that he is an ex-convict. Shunned by society, Valjean is mocked and hounded around by mobs and crowds who see him as a villain and an unwelcome threat. Forced to sleep rough, Valjean is pitied by the 'Bishop of Digne' (Gavin James) who takes him into his house.
Still corrupted by his years of hardship however, Valjean steals the Bishop's silver and makes good his escape. Only when he is hastily captured by the police and brought back to the Bishop does Valjean's life change for good.
The Bishop refuses to press charges on Valjean and insists that the silver stashed away in his filthy sack was a gift. Astounded by the Bishop's saintly charity, Valjean swears to make a new life for himself away from the squalor and crime of Toulon. He tears up his ticket-of-leave and flees to Montreuil-Sur-Mer.
Eight years pass and Valjean, having assumed the name 'Monsieur Madelelne', has become a wealthy factory owner and Mayor of the little town. This is where the central part of the story of Les Misérables really starts to get going. 'Fantin' (Allyson Brown) loses her job in the factory and is forced into prostitution to support her young child 'Cosette'. When she is arrested and falls gravely ill, Valjean takes pity on the woman and swears to look after her little girl.
The complex plot then follows the lives of Valjean, Cosette and 'Javert', the thick-set French Inspector who is zealously determined to track down Valjean for breaking his parole all those years ago.
Though the intricate plot zips along at an enthralling pace, the true power of 'Les Misérables' would seem to come from its simply breathtaking score. Delicate lyrical motifs and heartfelt refrains echo throughout the piece time and time again, giving the show a real sense of cohesion and completeness. For example, one of the most poignant moments of the second half comes when the peasant girl 'Eponine' (Nancy Sullivan) sings Only on My Own, a song so popular that it has become famous almost in its own right. The melodic line that runs along the verses however ("On my own, pretending he's beside me'), is echoed time and time again in the show at large. By the time 'Eponine' gets to bring the house down with her solo, we have heard that refrain maybe two or three times laced through the preceding action. The effect, when it comes, is one of resolution and familiarity. Just as the sentiment of the heartfelt lyric might be recognisable to the audience, so too is the delicate melody that accompanies it.
Of course, it's not all doom and gloom, there are plenty of light touches here too. One stand-out ditty comes in the first half when we first meet the Thénardier's in their grimy tavern. Shamelessly crooked, the pair lead the ensemble in a bawdy barroom bop Master of the House. Raucous, funny and decidedly fruity, this little set piece really lifted the action midway through the first act and added a perfectly balanced moment of comic relief.
Les Misérables is without question an outstanding piece of musical theatre. Bold, striking and spectacular, within about 15 minutes of the show starting it was patently obvious why it has been running for the time it has. It is simply expertly put together. The performances were amazing, the music memorable and the arrangements finely and intelligently wrought. This being the first time I have ever seen it, I can only assume that it is as powerful today as it was when it was first staged. A fantastic production, Les Misérables is West End musical theatre at its best.
Published by: Nathan Brooker
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