I took my mum to see Les
Misérables today for her birthday, because I’m a model son.
We watched it together for the first time around twenty-five years ago, with me going again with my dad on a school trip, then again with my friend Chris a few years later. It’s a musical I know my way around more than most; you don’t get a Diploma in Acting & Musical Theatre (albeit from an unaccredited drama school) without being familiar with the score. It took every ounce of my energy not to launch to my feet and do the famous ‘two steps forward, two steps back’ Les Mis walk in aisle, though I wouldn’t have got very far if I did.
Despite the familiarity, there’s no escaping how effective, good and moving the show is; it's run for thirty years for a reason. It hasn’t grown tired, or lost its impact since moving from the Palace Theatre to the smaller Queen’s Theatre down the road. It’s amazing how well Boublil & Schönberg’s book translates from French to English. I’ve never been a musical theatre fan, but then Les Mis is more of an opera than a musical; Summer Holiday, it’s not.
To top the day off, my friend Adrian (who’s Head of Sound on the show) was good enough to give us a tour of the theatre afterwards, which was really very lovely of him. My mum was quite excited to set foot on the stage. Even I got a kick out of walking past the trucks that make up the barricade and onto the revolve, though I stopped short of rolling about on it like a dying Javert. That would have sullied the atmosphere.
We watched it together for the first time around twenty-five years ago, with me going again with my dad on a school trip, then again with my friend Chris a few years later. It’s a musical I know my way around more than most; you don’t get a Diploma in Acting & Musical Theatre (albeit from an unaccredited drama school) without being familiar with the score. It took every ounce of my energy not to launch to my feet and do the famous ‘two steps forward, two steps back’ Les Mis walk in aisle, though I wouldn’t have got very far if I did.
Despite the familiarity, there’s no escaping how effective, good and moving the show is; it's run for thirty years for a reason. It hasn’t grown tired, or lost its impact since moving from the Palace Theatre to the smaller Queen’s Theatre down the road. It’s amazing how well Boublil & Schönberg’s book translates from French to English. I’ve never been a musical theatre fan, but then Les Mis is more of an opera than a musical; Summer Holiday, it’s not.
To top the day off, my friend Adrian (who’s Head of Sound on the show) was good enough to give us a tour of the theatre afterwards, which was really very lovely of him. My mum was quite excited to set foot on the stage. Even I got a kick out of walking past the trucks that make up the barricade and onto the revolve, though I stopped short of rolling about on it like a dying Javert. That would have sullied the atmosphere.