Not so miserable at all

Showbiz Queenstown’s production of Les Misérables at Queenstown Memorial Hall has sold out and has been receiving rave reviews and standing ovations. People are saying it’s better than Broadway, which proves to me that people either have very selective memories, or they’ve never seen a show on Broadway. This is not to say that it’s not very good, because it is, but I’ve seen the show in London and Manchester, and this version is very different from that of the professionals.

Firstly, let’s discuss Simon Green as Valjean. He is excellent. I have just realised I am a bit of a Simon Green groupie having seen him all around the country from Auckland (Evita) to Invercargill (Les Mis again, this time as Enjolras) via Christchurch (Rush!), and this is his best performance. His singing is as perfect as I have come to expect, but he actually acts as well. I felt his torment and, as he ages, his physicality alters convincingly as well as his voice and mannerisms so that I totally believe in him.

Usually with this musical I’m not interested in Valjean’s personal battle with Javert, or the love story with Marius and Cosette, paying more attention to the Thénardiers and the battle scenes led by Enjolras. This time the stags locking antlers was entirely intriguing.

Marty McLay in the role of Javert overcomes an unfortunate but necessary piece of miscasting. I believe he was originally cast as Thénardier but the original Javert pulled out, causing an exigent reshuffle of the remaining males. He may struggle with some of the lower notes, but what he lacks in vocal depth he more than makes up for with physical presence and is strong and imposing in his bearing.

I’m still not interested in the love-story, but that’s a plot issue. It’s ridiculous and implausible that two people can fall so passionately and devotedly in love with a single glance. Cosette (Emily Burns) hits the high notes prettily, looks good in a frock (plaudits to wardrobe manager Jan Maxwell), and her duets with Marius, particularly ‘A Heart Full of Love’, are charming. Marcus Figueroa is a fantastic find and plays embodies the part of the impressionable Marius beautifully. His ‘Empty Chairs at Empty Tables’ is truly moving.

The Thénardiers often threaten to steal the show and they nearly do so here as Marty Newell and Kathleen Brentwood work brilliantly together. They bring an edge to their characters elevating them above the merely comic, which is an easy trap to fall into. Although there are plenty of scenes in which they play for laughs (Kathleen dancing by herself is especially memorable), they retain a sense of despicable greed and sly self-interest, demonstrating their commitment to Victor Hugo’s original message about the dark side to what John Key euphemistically calls the underclass.

Rachael Gerard as Fantine is as striking as ever, and her voice has a depth and richness to counterpoint Simon’s in ‘Come to Me’. She sings both this and the incredible ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ while seated, which is a challenge she meets with aplomb and, at the risk of sounding like a Pop Idol judge, she makes them her own.

Rachael has sensitivity and strength in spades, but ironically, this very strength is problematic. I don’t for one second believe she is vulnerable and when the factory girls turn on her, I fear more for their safety than hers – she looks as though she could take them all on with one hand tied behind her back and knock them all into the foreman’s cocked hat. Incidentally, every woman does a running-from-side-to-side movement until pushed by a male character to collapse in a kerfuffle of skirts and petticoats. This may have visual impact the first time but soon grows tedious.

So too does Eponine’s (Alice Fraser) folded arms. It’s a gesture I hate to see on stage. Once or twice indicates defiance or resistance – used constantly it implies the actor doesn’t know what to do with their hands. Alice sings like an angel (albeit with an off-putting American accent) and she has pathos and angst to (literally) die for. She is at her best in ‘A Little Fall of Rain’ – while she is lying cradled in Marius’ arms we can concentrate on her beatific voice and not be distracted by her awkward gestures.

And so to the singing children. I must admit I’m not a fan in any production – ever. I have no maternal instincts whatsoever (except for cats and certain Liverpool players) and so it is a huge compliment to say that little Cosette (I’m not sure which one I saw) is not too annoying and her ‘Castle on a Clouds’ melts away without any lingering cringe. Angus Reid (who plays Gavoche) will have a bright future in theatre once he learns that shouting isn’t projecting and that nineteenth-century Parisian urchins probably didn’t krump. His confidence and stage manner are highly impressive for an eleven-year old and with discipline he could reveal great promise.

The lighting (Glen ‘Scooter’ Reid) is sombre and frequently shadowy with a heavy reliance on spot-lights. This is stunningly effective when the menacing shadows encroach on the audience during ‘At the End of the Day’ – one of my favourite songs of the show – as the chorus spit out their words with plenty of intent and purpose. It also adds to Thénardier’s ‘Dog Eat Dog’ and the backlit barricades.

Some of the big chorus numbers (such as ‘Do You Hear the People Sing?’, ‘Red and Black’ and ‘One Day More!’) lacked the impact I was expecting. As the chorus were more than competent, and formidably led by Doug Kamo both on and off stage (as Enjolras and director), I can only assume this is down to staging. Having worked in the Memorial Hall many times I am aware of its limitations as a theatrical venue. The fact that a show of this scale was produced here at all is a triumph of which the entire production and technical crew should be proud.

It’s hard to wave a giant flag from atop a barricade when you’re afraid of crashing into the lights suspended inches above your head. No matter how hard they tried, this had to detract from the grandeur of the moment. Doug Kamo has a massive job to direct this masterpiece, but he orchestrates the elements and rises admirably to the challenges. I can but imagine the hurdles he had to overcome and the technical aspects of the production are well-served.

The orchestra, which is not even in the same room (how can you do a show without it? How can the powers that be when deciding that Queenstown doesn’t need a purpose-built theatre consider this acceptable?), does a phenomenal job. The sound mixing is generally excellent (Tom Lynch) and, if the singing is occasionally half a beat behind the music, it is a credit to all involved that it doesn’t happen more often.

This socio-political understanding is lacking from some of the group numbers, (‘Red and Black’ and ‘Master of the House’ risk appearing messy) and some dynamism is missing from the characterisation among the company. The women at the factory or the men at the barricades for example, often look more concerned with standing in position and singing in tune than they do in fighting for their lives. The much-touted revolve proves more distracting than anything with cast stepping on and off like toddlers on an escalator.

However, I heard a great, if somewhat obscure, compliment from an audience member behind me: when Enjolras dies on the barricades and they revolve to reveal his prone form, she whispered, ‘You can see him breathing’. I should hope so too. For one moment there it seemed as though she had forgotten she was watching a show in a provincial town hall and thought she was transported to post-revolutionary France. As an actor and/or director, who could ask for anything more?

This Les Misérables is different to other versions I have seen and I took different things from it. It allowed me to focus more on the principals and individuals rather than the madding crowd. Doug Kamo has used the privations to his advantage and created a unique interpretation of an adored show. Highly commendable and highly recommended.