Review - Les Miserables & Long Story Short

Cameron Mackintosh's 25th Anniversary production of LES MISERABLES, presented by The Paper Mill Playhouse, has finally hit the friendly American shores after touring Britain, and perhaps symbolic of its Atlantic crossing is the new opening picture devised by co-directors Laurence Conner and James Powell. Sure, 24601 (a/k/a Jean Valjean) is still a prisoner in chains for the crime of stealing a loaf of bread for his starving sister and her family, but he and his fellow inmates are now rowing oars on a galley ship. The music (Claude-Michel Schonberg) and words (Herbert Kretzmer, based on the original French text by Alain Boublil and Jean-Marc Natel) of this world-famous adaptation of Victor Hugo's 1862 novel, set against the backdrop of Paris' 1832 student revolution, are unchanged, but the new locale not only starts the evening off with a visually striking image, but signals to the musical's two-and-a-half decades worth of fans that this will not be just another variation of the original Trevor Nunn/John Caird production they are accustomed to. (A production that can still be enjoyed on the West End.)

The on-stage turntable, almost as iconic as the show's Little Cosette logo, which swiftly changed scenes and turned ensemble numbers into aerobic workouts, is gone. With false prosceniums tightening up the playing space, the 39-member company is pushed forward, creating a more intimate production that allows for more naturalistic acting choices. No, LES MISERABLES, is not being done as a chamber piece, but the pop opera style of singing and acting generally associated with the show has been toned down to a level where the character work of the performers can be admired as much as their impressive voices.

Actually, it's folk opera that comes to mind when hearing Lawrence Clayton singing the role of Valjean, who breaks parole and tries to reinvent his life under a new identity while being hunted by the idealist Inspector Javert. His earthy baritone has a pleasing, everyman warmth that beautifully turns ethereal when reaching heavenly heights in his second act prayer, "Bring Him Home," which thrilled the opening night audience so much they couldn't wait for his final note to finish before giving a roaring ovation.

Andrew Varela's rich, expressive baritone soars in Javert's solos, but the impact is made far greater by his sympathetic approach to the role; conveying the character's troubled soul as he heroically fights for a cause he believes is God's will. Betsy Morgan's brief time on stage as the abandoned mother, Fantine, forced into prostitution to care for her daughter, is utterly heartbreaking, singing "I Dreamed A Dream" as a physically broken and mentally defeated woman fighting death only for the sake of her child.

The low comedy is deftly handled by Michael Kostroff as the villainous innkeeper, Thénardier, and Shawna M. Hamic as his lowbrow wife. Jeremy Hays has a boyish sincerity that makes his portrayal of the spirited revolutionary, Enjolras, all the more sympathetic, and Jenny Latimer and understudy Jon Fletcher contributed lovely vocals in the rather thankless romantic roles of Cosette and Marius. Chasten Harmon has a powerful voice but singing Eponine with R&B stylings did not fit in with the rest of the production and came at the expense of any believability of her character's love for Marius.

Matt Kinley's set is a gorgeously moody collection of drops and projections inspired by the paintings of Victor Hugo; with Paule Constable's lighting and Adreane Neofitou's costumes they add up to a total design that greatly enhances the storytelling.

Photos by Deen van Meer: Top: Lawrence Clayton and Andrew Varela; Bottom: Jeremy Hays and Company.

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For a second there I thought they'd brought Xanadu back to the Helen Hayes Theatre, what with designer David Gallo providing another Greek amphitheatre setting. But while Xanadu warned of a decades-long artistic lull that would begin in the 80s, the theatre's new tenant, Colin Quinn's Long Story Short, predicts a complete decline of the American Empire. At least that's what director Jerry Seinfeld says.

Personally, I think he's overstating it a bit. What we have here is a travelogue through time of history's great cultures, with sharply edged zingers to tear apart each one of them, as well as draw parallels between their flaws and our own contemporary foibles. It's a brisk and funny 75-minute set that's perhaps a little subtler and a little smarter than what the comedian might be able to do in the land of tiny stages and noisy cocktail glasses.

Hand him a newspaper and Colin Quinn would pass for an outer boroughs Mort Saul. Just like when he gained national exposure during his stint as the Weekend Update anchor on Saturday Night Live, his style is to translate the intellectually and culturally elite into basic, regular guy common sense.

Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection simply means that the annoying people who would cut in line and only think of themselves were the ones who survived; "We are the descendants of the pricks."

"Greek children watched about 40 hours of plays a week," he tells us, but what they saw wasn't all that different from today's entertainment: "Antigone on her knees, crying over the loss of her dead brother" equals "Snooki on her knees, crying over the loss of her cell phone."

With a relaxed, genial delivery, Quinn balances high-minded topics like colonization of Africa, the Monroe Doctrine and the history of French and British relations with references to Martha Stewart and Mrs. Doubtfire; and it just pleases me to no end that somebody finally figured out a new line about the Holy Roman Empire.

Photo of Colin Quinn by Carol Rosegg.

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