Return to the Original
A wry smile appeared on John's face. "Yeah, finding a foundation willing to invest in new projects isn't easy. But there are still some art lovers willing to fund such ventures." He let out a small sigh. "The only thing I hope is that they respect art and don't interfere in the creative process."
A professional is a professional—whether a layman or an experienced enthusiast, neither are true experts. Any form of interference could lead to disaster. It's like football; fanatic fans often dictate how a club should operate, yet their suggestions rarely translate into real-world success. The same principle applies to artistic creation.
After a brief pause, John raised his head and looked at Renly. "Andre Hamilton—have you heard of him? He's willing to sponsor projects in his own name, which is quite rare."
The answer was unexpected yet reasonable. John Codd was well known in London's West End, and Andre knew that Renly was his protégé. However, Renly's own background was not widely known, and his connection with Andre was even more obscure.
Renly's smile momentarily faltered before curving upward again. "You can talk to him. See if he's sponsoring for the sake of art or for financial gain." He neither confirmed nor denied anything but smoothly shifted the focus. "If it's the former, he should give you complete creative freedom. If it's the latter, investing in a reimagined Les Misérables isn't exactly a sound financial move."
With just those two sentences, John's eyes lit up. He put down his teacup, clapped his hands excitedly, and his expression brightened. "This is good—let's go with this!" He adjusted his posture, enthusiasm radiating from him. "This time, Les Misérables, I want to make some adaptations."
Renly nodded with a knowing smile, unsurprised by the decision.
"Not to stray from the original—but to return to it." John's words made Renly raise an eyebrow in interest. "The current West End version was trimmed down for commercial reasons. The adaptation focused primarily on Jean Valjean, using his personal journey to reflect the era's background. Cameron Mackintosh's version was undeniably successful, and the iconic musical numbers have cemented their place in history. As a result, many now believe Les Misérables is solely Jean Valjean's story."
Renly nodded in agreement.
John, immersed in his thoughts, continued with renewed vigor—his passion as a teacher often exceeding that of his students. "But we know that the original novel is about an entire era. It's a grand tapestry, and I want to present the full story on stage."
"Wow." The exclamation slipped from Renly's lips. He pondered for a moment, surprise flashing in his eyes before it was replaced by growing excitement.
As John had said, Victor Hugo's original novel was an expansive masterpiece, depicting an entire period of history. Divided into five parts—Fantine, Cosette, Marius, The Idyll in the Rue Plumet and the Epic in the Rue Saint-Denis, and Jean Valjean—each segment played a crucial role in shaping the overarching narrative.
Jean Valjean was the thread that wove the story together, but he was not its sole protagonist. The soul of the novel was the era itself. Hugo meticulously painted a portrait of society, capturing the brutality of the times and the inevitability of change.
The musical adaptation by Cameron Mackintosh successfully distilled the story, centering it around Valjean's journey and the melancholic inevitability of fate. It was an artistic and commercial triumph—blending literature, entertainment, and accessibility for the audience.
Even so, Mackintosh's Les Misérables ran for three hours. When Tom Hooper adapted it into a film, the need for further condensing arose. The cinematic adaptation, constrained by runtime, stripped away much of the novel's grandeur, losing both the stage version's depth and the original text's vast historical scope.
Now, John was suggesting restoring that lost scale? It was audacious—almost mad.
"Five parts?" Renly asked, his voice tinged with intrigue.
Catching the spark in Renly's eyes, John nodded with satisfaction. "Five parts, adapted into five chapters. The script is written. We've secured adaptation rights for Mackintosh's version, and we plan to supplement it with original music to complete all the arias. The final production will run for six hours."
Six hours. A theatrical marathon—an unprecedented challenge for both the West End and Broadway.
"Of course, that includes intermissions," John added with a chuckle. "Six hours is daunting. We're exploring different formats. One idea is a single-day performance split into two parts—three hours in the afternoon, followed by a dinner break before continuing in the evening. The other option is splitting it over two consecutive nights."
"That's a serious challenge for both the audience and the actors." Renly was already marveling at the logistics.
If performed across two nights, it would ease the actors' workload but demand immense commitment from the audience. Sitting through three-hour performances on consecutive nights was a big ask, even for the most devoted fans.
If staged in a single day, the cast would face a grueling endurance test—six hours of sustained performance. Even with alternating schedules, maintaining that level of energy would be exhausting. How frequently could such performances be scheduled? How long could the production run? The scale was monumental.
John, sensing Renly's amazement, leaned back with a grin. "That's precisely why it's worth doing." He straightened, the fire in his eyes undiminished. "Our vision is to present the full essence of the era—religion, society, culture, economy, war, human nature, philosophy, justice, and, above all: revolution. We want to portray nineteenth-century France as Victor Hugo saw it and bring that epic to life."
"Jean Valjean remains the core," John continued. "While the supporting characters' roles will expand significantly, Jean Valjean still carries the weight of the narrative. His journey will anchor the audience's philosophical and existential reflections."
Renly could feel John's passion—it was infectious. Even as a mere listener, he could see the vision taking shape, and it sent a thrill down his spine. "So, it begins with Jean Valjean and ends with Jean Valjean—just like the novel."
"Exactly!" John's enthusiasm reached its peak. "But to realize this vision, we need to consider several factors. First, the cast—every role, no matter how small, must be meticulously portrayed. Second, endurance—actors must have the stamina to sustain a six-hour performance. We're considering four sets of rotating casts to account for fatigue and contingencies. But…"
John trailed off, his earlier excitement tempered by reality. He picked up his teacup and sighed. His expression spoke volumes.
Funding. In the current climate, the theater industry was struggling. Budgets had been slashed, often to less than two-thirds of their peak levels. Typically, productions had three sets of casts: two for rotation and one as backup. Expanding to four would be a massive financial strain.
Beyond actor salaries, rehearsal costs posed another challenge. A six-hour production required extensive rehearsal time—longer than standard plays—and full-scale run-throughs for every cast. The logistical and financial burden was staggering.
It was an uphill battle. But for John, the challenge only made the endeavor more worthwhile.