Scaled down and modernized, DTC’s ‘Les Miserables’ hits the high notes
MASTER OF THE HOUSE | Nehal Joshi, right, as Jean Valjean, is a fireplug of intensity and compassion, and Elizabeth Judd, left, gives Eponine tomboyish charm. (Photo courtesy Karen Almond)
ARNOLD WAYNE JONES | Executive Editor
The first image you see in the Dallas Theater Center’s new production of Les Miserables is of orange jumpsuited men being manhandled by black-leather-clad stormtroopers. Is this an Oz-inspired BDSM fantasy or the musical adaptation of a 19th century novel?
Updating the settings of plays is nothing new — Shakespeare has been reimagined more times than Cher’s career. But the decision of director Liesl Tommy (a South African native) to move this tale of French radicals in 1830s Paris to the cellphoned, hipster-infested streets of the modern era becomes a truly inspired bit of invention, taking the well-worn musical — bombastic and sweeping — and breathing a fresh, intimate energy in it. Students in corsets barricaded in the slums of Europe is one thing; but Occupy Wall Streeters clashing against right wing one-percenters brings the story home more powerfully. It’s a reminder of why the title Les Miserables is shortened but never changed — peoples of all ages and cultures are oppressed, and eventually they take to it the streets.
If the style seems heavy-handed, get over it. Despite some shocking, decidedly non-family-friendly moments (the “Lovely Ladies” number has always been a racy song about prostitutes, but the simulated sex — men-on-women and men-on-men — is raw), this version of Les Miz is as expertly crafted as any I’ve seen. When before has Madame Thenardier (Christia Mantzke) stood out as one of the great comic roles in musical theater? She’d steal the show if she didn’t share all her scenes with Steven Michael Walters as her rapacious husband. His hair twisted in a sloppy dreadlocks nest, wearing too-small clothes but strutting like a peacock, Walters is the resident magician, pulling magic moments from hats along with wallets from his victim’s pockets. Even the sound screw-ups on opening night, which left him unmiked during key solo moments, didn’t interfere with the comic timing.
But then, Les Miz isn’t known primarily for its humor, but for its humanity — the tale of a fugitive, Jean Valjean (Nehal Joshi) relentlessly pursued by a jackbooted thug hiding behind his badge, the religious zealot Inspector Javert (Edward Watts). In his leather duster and angular face, Javert looks like a brigand from a John Wayne western, though he lacks the vocal shadings to set the role apart.
Joshi, though, makes for a powerful fireplug as Valjean, with breathtaking songs (his “Bring Him Home” aria is arrestingly good) and doleful eyes that, even from across the stage, engender compassion.
Even his singing, though, is outshone by Allison Blackwell’s Fantine, whose rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream” should be used to force Ann Hathaway to give back her Oscar.
The entire ensemble — especially the charmingly tomboyish Elizabeth Judd as Eponine and dashing Justin Keyes as the romantic Marius — never falter.
John Coyne’s massively raked set gives depth and scope to the show that, in the industrial box that is the Wyly’s performance hall, feels as personal as a love letter. And props to the props department, whose signing during the early scenes of unrest (“still waiting on the VA — please help”) remind us that even divided by centuries, the message of Les Miz still packs a punch.
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition July 11, 2014.
