The Greatest Showman #965 - Boom is Coming
On the stage, Javert, played by Ezra Miller, is bathed in a halo of light, resembling a divine revelation. His oath to the stars and fervent prayer to God resonate through the theater. Taking the stars as witnesses, he swears to pursue Jean Valjean to the ends of the earth, embodying unwavering faith and unyielding obsession. His performance exudes a holiness and righteousness that fills the stage in a dazzling "starlight."
The melody swells, and the singing voice blooms, gradually pushing the third act to a climax. The conviction in his heart bursts forth with an unimaginable force, pouring into the melody and aria. As the song reaches its abrupt finale, Qi Yu's brilliant, majestic, and overwhelming presence peaks!
Powerful. Passionate. Unstoppable. And then—
Silence.
The curtain falls. The lights dim. A moment later, the lights return, and the audience erupts into applause. Thunderous, deafening applause shakes the Almeida Theatre. The three-hour performance has concluded—the first half is over. After a two-and-a-half-hour intermission, the second half will resume.
The applause, lasting for a full two minutes, shows no sign of stopping. It roars with intensity, echoing the audience's admiration and enthusiasm. Though the story remains unfinished, and the long duration is exhausting, no one seems to mind. Instead, they express their reverence through their ovation.
The Almeida adaptation of Les Misérables is structured into three acts in the first half:
The first act closes with Jean Valjean's monologue, illustrating his emotional transformation and the social landscape.
The second act concludes with Valjean's confrontation with Javert, portraying Fantine's suffering and societal oppression, culminating in Valjean's identity revelation and his desperate flight.
The third act reaches its peak with Javert's monologue—Starlight—highlighting the deepening social divide, the suffering masses, and a city on the brink of upheaval. The Thénardiers dominate this act.
Three acts. Three hours. A grand, sweeping tableau that vividly brings to life 19th-century Paris. Not only do Jean Valjean, Fantine, and Javert take center stage, but supporting characters also receive substantial focus, enriching the narrative.
Notably, this third act, vastly different from the Queen's Theatre version, introduces new tracks and characters, shifting focus away from the protagonist and expanding the scope to depict society's stark reality.
The experience is akin to watching a masterpiece like The Lord of the Rings. The Almeida Theatre's rendition of Les Misérables captures the intricate, grandiose epic of Victor Hugo's world, evoking an indescribable emotional impact.
Three exhausting, exhilarating hours later, the entire audience rises. The applause persists for two minutes, an unmistakable signal: they are calling for an encore. They long for the actors to take the stage once more and receive their due adulation.
John Codd, leading the principal cast, steps forward to accept the audience's reverence.
The applause swells into a crescendo—a tsunami of sound. It crashes like thunder, rumbles like an earthquake, and roars like a tempest. The theater's acoustics magnify the effect, creating an overwhelming, almost surreal reverberation. Had John not intervened, thanking the audience and reminding them of the upcoming second half, the applause might have continued indefinitely.
His reminder is crucial: a two-and-a-half-hour intermission lies ahead. The audience must eat, rest, and prepare for another three-hour odyssey. This marathon is only halfway complete—the most exhilarating moments are yet to come.
As the applause fades and the audience disperses, the lingering echoes remain in their hearts.
The Critic's Perspective
As a seasoned theater critic and devoted enthusiast, Alistair Smith perceives the performance from a unique vantage point.
The Story: John Codd's adaptation and exploration of the original Les Misérables narrative deserve commendation. While Alistair admires Codd's audacity and execution, he reserves final judgment until the second half. As it stands, the first half is already a solid 80+ performance.
The Performances:
Reese Ridley's portrayal of Fantine, while commendable, reveals a certain immaturity. Her youth, while true to the novel's depiction of Fantine, presents challenges in emotional depth. This contrast is especially evident in her scenes with Renly. One can sense Renly deliberately restraining himself to maintain balance, yet his sheer naturalism still overshadows Reese. Her emotional delivery, character portrayal, and attention to detail highlight the gap between them.
Ezra Miller's Javert faces a similar predicament.
In scenes opposite Renly, Ezra's unease and shortness of breath are palpable. He struggles to hold his ground, especially in their Confrontation scene, where Javert should dominate, yet Renly's restrained intensity subtly tilts the dynamic. This, in turn, slightly affects the overall character development of Javert.
However, this is not a failure of Ezra and Reese—it is simply that Renly is too good. By any other standard, their performances would rank among the best of their generation, ensuring the overall production maintains a high caliber.
Reese's I Dreamed a Dream lacks explosive impact, but her emotional conveyance is sincere. Unlike the Queen's Theatre version, which often casts older actresses, Reese's youth adds an innocence and vulnerability truer to the novel's original vision. Her monologue at the end of the second act captures Fantine's tragic arc—her naive optimism, her cruel disillusionment, and her ultimate descent into despair.
Ezra's Starlight is forceful, yet it lacks nuance. His portrayal emphasizes Javert's relentless determination but falls short in conveying the character's inner turmoil. Nevertheless, the extensive first half compensates, allowing the plot and arias to fill in the gaps. By the time he delivers his monologue in the third act, his obsessive fervor injects a new interpretation into the role, drawing enthusiastic applause.
The length of the first half could be seen as a liability, exposing the inconsistencies of young actors. Yet, it also provides ample time for character development, allowing the story to deepen. John Codd's Les Misérables achieves the latter.
A Meeting of Minds
"Alistair."
"Nick."
A familiar figure approaches—Nick Morris, a veteran theater critic known for his sharp tongue. Many productions have met their demise under his unforgiving pen.
Yet, Nick has earned his place in London's West End through his expertise. He is unsparing when necessary, but never unfair. Even Alistair values their exchanges.
They exit the theater together.
"What's your take?" Alistair prompts.
Nick shrugs. "So far? Renly Hall."
"Only one?" Alistair arches an eyebrow playfully.
Nick nods without hesitation. "Yes. Everything else pales in comparison."
He pauses before adding, "Codd's adaptation? Only half-formed. The real test is the second half. But I'll admit—I wasn't expecting that from Renly. You know how it is with Hollywood actors…"
His words trail off with a familiar critical smirk.
In the London theater scene, Oscars hold little weight compared to European film festivals, the Tony Awards, or the Olivier Awards. West End actors, with their rigorous training, are often seen as a cut above Hollywood imports. Their self-assuredness—some would say arrogance—is well-earned.
"But his control is extraordinary," Nick concedes, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "I wonder—if Renly went all out from start to finish, how far could this performance go?"
Alistair grins. "It's certainly an exciting thought."