Les Misérables: The Arena Spectacular review – stars bring the spectacle

When the news came through that a new version of Les Misérables was coming to Glasgow, some of my fellow Scottish critics who write for other publications expressed some cynicism, even dread at the prospect of being, in their words, subjected to it.

Not this critic! I probably don’t qualify as a Les Mis superfan, but I fell under its spell 25 years ago while I was a student at university, I’ve seen it lots of times since, and I played my CD soundtrack on repeat until my housemates had to hide it from me. So did I approach this one with an upbeat sense of excitement? Let’s just say you had me at “arena spectacular.”

I’ve never witnessed Les Mis in anything like a setting such as this, though. The cavernous space of Glasgow’s OVO Hydro arena would swallow up anything except the most extravagant entertainment, and you’re a long way from a cosy West End theatre. This version of the show is unavoidably vast, and that means that for all but the lucky ones you’ll be a long way from the stage and it’ll feel like you’re miles away from the singers, so there’s a risk that newcomers to the show might find it either incomprehensible or silly, a danger enhanced by the paucity of sets.

Some of the distance is mitigated by huge screens behind the stage which zoom in on the singers’ faces and give those in the cheap seats a better idea of the emotions they’re conveying, though that gives the audience the perennial problem of wondering where they should be focusing. It also means that the singers have to stand rooted to the spot in order for the cameras to pick them up, which reduces a lot of stage intimacy and can make them look stuck.

So there are problems; perhaps insurmountable ones in a production like this. But, my goodness, the old magic is all still there! It’s impossible not to feel moved afresh by Victor Hugo’s story of the everyman seeking redemption through bringing good to the world, and Boublil and Schönberg’s indestructible songs still shine through. Stephen Metcalfe’s orchestration sounds as though it has been expanded from the regular theatre proportions though, to be honest, it’s hard to tell because it has been so massively amplified. Everything is clear in the sound design, however, and every word is intelligible.

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And then there’s the cast, headed at most performances by Alfie Boe and Michael Ball (Killian Donnelly and Bradley Jaden handle all other UK dates), who have a history with this show that goes back a long way. Ball was Marius in the original production. Here he graduates to Javert, and he sings the role with incisive power, spitting out every consonant in a way that adds grandeur to the part, and he’s genuinely moving during the character’s great crisis of confidence in act two. Boe’s Valjean is powerful yet also deeply vulnerable, expressed in a hangdog expression that Boe wears for most of the show (and which he could be encouraged to vary). He sings brilliantly, though. He isn’t afraid to belt out his lines at the emotional climaxes, and indeed he isn’t above bellowing his part from time to time. The production seems to embrace that, though, with a rush of lighting and colour every time he does so. No fewer than six spotlights fix on him at the end of “Who am I?” (Not to be outdone, Ball gets dozens at the end of “Stars”).

Bonnie Langford has a whale of a time as Madame Thénardier, and even does the splits in the wedding scene for no other reason than to prove that she can. Gavin Lee is both comical and repulsive as her husband. Channah Hewitt is a vulnerable, wounded Fantine, and Emily Bautista a poignant Éponine; both contrast well with the bright, clean soprano of Beatrice Penny-Touré’s Cosette.

So, yes: I’d still rather see Les Mis in the theatre if I had the choice; but if you already love the show then you’ll love the arena spectacular too. While it’s huge, it’s also deeply moving, and the adrenaline rush is as strong as ever – meaning that I cried, multiple times. And I don’t care which other Scottish critics know it.