John Michael Finley, Connor Zeidman, and Danny Rothman in Les Misérables
There's no point in burying the lede on this: The Timber Lake Playhouse's Les Misérables is the most visually powerful, thunderously well-performed area production I've seen since my first published stage review debuted in 2005, and even since I first arrived in the Quad Cities for college in 1986.
This statement is liable to get me in trouble with certain parties: those skeptical about the sweeping praise; those who consider it an insult to previous shows I've adored. (For anyone in that latter camp: Please don't feel slighted or offended. There are legitimate Broadway talents in Timber Lake's latest.) But it's rare, if it manages to happen at all, that a show leaves you less impressed than awed, and director Tommy Ranieri's presentation is awesome in its strictest dictionary definition. It's awesome in the more colloquial sense, too, and that's a large part of what makes this Les Miz so singular, and so explosively thrilling.
Before Friday's unforgettable three-plus hours commenced, Ranieri (who's also Timber Lake's artistic director) took the stage to deliver sincere, eventually teary acknowledgment of those who wouldn't be applauded during the opening-night curtain call: designers, staffers, volunteers. But what I'll most remember from Ranieri's charming, touching remarks was his escalating excitement as he instructed us to “Sit back, relax, and enjoy Les Misérables!” Surely he knew that simply sitting back and relaxing weren't going to be our instinctive responses – not when, from the production's first seconds, what we would see and hear was more reminiscent of an arena-rock spectacular than a venerated tearjerker in which more than a half-dozen significant figures die. From the start, Ranieri was encouraging us to have fun at his show, and the dirty little secret of Les Miz is that for all the trouble and tragedy that begins with Jean Valjean stealing that loaf of bread, it's insanely fun. You respond to “I Dreamed a Dream” and “On My Own” and other downbeat bangers exactly the way a studio audience would after topnotch interpretations on American Idol – and that's in no way the dig it might seem.
Having previously seen a 1988 production during the musical's original Broadway run (no Colm Wilkinson, but Tony winner Michael Maguire was still in it!), four nationally touring performances, three local ones, and the 2012 movie, novelist Victor Hugo's narrative no longer turns me into a blubbery mess. Fantine passes? I know – sad, right? Eponine is stuck in the Friend Zone? I feel ya, girl. All those idealistic student revolutionaries proving no match for the French army? Ugh! Bummer! Forgive the snark, but like many a Les Miz obsessive, I simply know this material too well by now to be properly moved by its story, even as artfully conceived – in their entirely sung-through musical – by composer/book writer Claude-Michel Schönberg, co-book writer Alain Boubil, and lyricist Herbert Kretzmer.
But here's what did lead to a pounding heart, copious tears, and the hairs of my arms standing up on Friday night. John Michael Finley, as Jean Valjean, expressing bottomless pain, rage, desperation, and internal conflict – and demonstrating what sounds like a four-octave range – on songs including “Who Am I?”, “Bring Him Home,” and Valjean's opening soliloquy. Another Broadway veteran, the steely and terrifying Danny Rothman, chilling your blood with his staggering baritone before delivering transcendent wonders on “Stars” and crushing your soul on Javert's Act II adieu. “Stars”' presentation as a whole, with designer John Burkland's extraordinary, practically tactile lighting effects somehow suggesting both reality and virtual reality. The romantic, cinematic rush as Timber Lake's turntable, which I've never seen employed so beautifully, rotated to the right while Cosette (ravishing soprano Allie DeMatteo) walked to the left to meet Marius on “A Heart Full of Love.” Marius again, his portrayer Joey Baciocco exuding aching regret in expression, bearing, and fearsome vocals, begging forgiveness from his “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” comrades who filled the playhouse aisles. Fantine and Eponine (respectively played by the equally enchanting Channing Weir and Jazmin Rhodes) offering benediction and grace not only to Valjean, but seemingly our entire audience.
What can I say? I was a wreck. As was, evidently, the woman in front of me who was full-body sobbing during Finley's “Bring Him Home.” As was my theatre-going companion who, as she'd readily attest, spent almost 200 consecutive minutes weeping. But just because Ranieri's is the sort of dehydrating production that requires a Squeegee to dry your face doesn't mean it's not a total blast. You don't leave this show drained; you leave elated, intoxicated. Because of the 75-minute drive, I didn't get home 'til 12:15 a.m., and was still too jazzed to fall asleep before 2:30. I presume that's what happened to Swifties upon returning from an Eras concert. And believe me when I say that this Les Miz emits amphitheater-concert energy to spare, evident in everything from the (I'm pretty sure) slightly sped-up tempo on “At the End of the Day” to the impassioned belting of Kaden Hawkins' Enjolras to the period-inappropriate yet weirdly right lip gloss on Rhodes' Eponine. For all the on-stage misère, this is a theatrical experience that puts showmanship first, and Ranieri, his impeccable cast, and his madly gifted creative team put on a helluva show.
To be sure, I wasn't blind to the opening-night gaffes, particularly in regard to the sound quality. Everything went swimmingly during the opening hour. But at some point soon after “A Heart Full of Love,” and for the rest of the night, the body mics (or their operators) became a little untrustworthy in group scenes. The first lines of numerous characters' lyrics were too-frequently missed, the mics hastily turned on afterward, and there were a handful of briefly jarring feedback issues that were disservices to both the performers and conductor/music director Matthew W. Surico's remarkable 14-piece orchestra. Also, despite the frankly astonishing collection of hundreds of costumes designed and gathered by the artist known simply as “DW,” a couple of the men's beards were obviously fake.
Good God, though, how could such minor irritants and quibbles possibly matter when confronted with the dazzling blend of finely detailed and brashly exuberant grandeur on display? Among the former, you've got the devastating vocal sweetness of Justin Autz at the start of “Drink with Me”; the heartbreaking, unmistakably wounded determination of Benjamin Staslek's Gavroche; and Ranieri's handling of the ensemble in the early scenes, their dehumanized, herky-jerky movements suggesting crude, anonymous puppets on strings. Among the latter, you've got the high-comic yet fiendishly scary Thenardiers (a perfectly matched James Schultz and Faye Beane) in choreographer Lauren Maurosek's “Master of the House” triumph; the Act I closer that freshens up well-known Les Miz touchstones; and the overwhelming battle sequences boasting potent sound design (by Evan J. Letterieri and Carlos Días), plus flashing lights that switch from white, when success is in sight, to red, when it definitely isn't. And housing all of the disparate miracles is scenic designer Michael Bennett Lewis' set, an imposing behemoth – essentially two imposing behemoths – as simply and gracefully functional as the ladders and chairs of Our Town.
I have more to say, but the entirety of the Internet doesn't have space enough for me to say it. So let's leave it at this: Sit forward, don't consider relaxing, and deeply enjoy Les Misérables.
Les Misérables runs at the Timber Lake Playhouse (8215 Black Oak Road, Mt. Carroll IL) through June 28, and more information and tickets are available by calling (815)244-2035 and visiting TimberLakePlayhouse.org.
