The New York cast of Les Misérables: The Arena Concert Spectacular takes their bows in what feels like a three-hour encore for the musical’s unprecedented success.
Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel Hinton
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There is probably someone at Radio City Music Hall who has seen Les Misérables more times than I have, but earlier this week, I couldn’t find them. This is, by my soft count, my seventh time seeing the show: I saw Les Mis four times in Chicago (ages 8, 14, 17, and 27), twice in London (ages 20 and 33), and once in New York City at Radio City Music Hall on the opening night for Les Misérables: The Arena Concert Spectacular (age REDACTED). While surveying the crowd, I talk to audience members who have mostly seen the show twice — usually one time Stateside and once on the West End. (One man named David has seen the show three times before but only on the West End.) By some accounts, this would make me some kind of superfan, which I guess is true, but only by the nature of the original Broadway cast recording being one of very few CDs everyone in my family could agree on listening to in the car. It was considered some feat when I was old enough to see the show and not fall asleep during it.
The Arena Concert Spectacular has been touring since 2024, with the Radio City stop serving as its epic conclusion. There is a modest mob of fans trying to get into Radio City at around 6:30 p.m., 30 minutes before the time that we were warned that the show would promptly start. I’m ushered into line behind none other than Bernadette Peters, looking dainty in a short black dress. She ought not be herded around with the civilians taking off their jackets and purses, but she approaches the situation with bemused aplomb. By the time we make it into the venue, the bars are already closing off their lines, and the merch line is relatively wane. They are selling shirts with “24601” and “Miz Rocks!” and not one but three different types of costumed teddy bears, including one wearing Javert’s uniform. Why someone would want a plush Javert, even in bear form, boggles the mind. Inside, I spot Death Becomes Her’s Christopher Sieber a few rows ahead, wearing a very fun pair of pants, waving to friends an aisle over. Two rows behind me, I spot a pair of kids — two tween boys. Their mother says they’ve never seen it. “I think they’ll like the battle,” she muses.
The lights dim, though before the menace of the musical’s opening chord commences, we’re treated to a video montage of Les Misérables across time and space, starting from the West End premiere of Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg’s show into its current worldwide success. There are clips from Family Guy and South Park. A pretaped Hugh Jackman, who played Jean Valjean in Tom Hooper’s 2012 film adaptation, says he wishes he could be there but that he loves being part of the Les Miz family. When the booming brass of “Look Down” kicks in, the cheers are deafening. A woman a few rows ahead of us puts both her arms in the air like she’s on a roller coaster.
What The Arena Concert Spectacular lacks in rotating stage, it more than makes up for in sheer energy, moving with passionate urgency through the show. Samantha Barks, a onetime Eponine of note, returns this time as Fantine, lending the first-act tragic heroine a righteous anger in “I Dreamed a Dream.” Matt Lucas and Marina Prior’s Thénardiers are boisterous and charming — more amiable sleazes than menacing scumbags, if that tracks. If there is a discovery to be had in this particular cast, it’s Bradley Jaden’s take on Javert. Whereas many Javerts opt for “tortured rule-follower” or “confused company man,” Jaden plays him like a charming psychopath, eyes wide and frightening. During intermission, I heard not one but three different parties discussing Jaden’s performance, put most succinctly as “Javert is eating.” Whereas Killian Donnelly’s Jean Valjean is a portrait of honor, Jaden’s Javert descends into full-blown madness when confronted with a moral code. His take on “Javert’s Suicide” positions the cop as ranting and raving, spit cascading from his mouth. The applause after that particular song was the most raucous and rowdy of the night.
Clockwise from top left: Producer Mackintosh welcomed Patti LuPone, the West End’s original Fantine. Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel HintonLook at these barricade boys. How could you dream of shooting down their hopes and dreams? Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel HintonChristian Mark Gibbs’s Enjolras was undoubtedly an audience favorite. Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel HintonFour Jean Valjeans and one Aaron Tveit, who may yet don “24601” himself. Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel Hinton
Clockwise from top left: Producer Mackintosh welcomed Patti LuPone, the West End’s original Fantine. Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel HintonLook at th… more
Clockwise from top left: Producer Mackintosh welcomed Patti LuPone, the West End’s original Fantine. Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel HintonLook at these barricade boys. How could you dream of shooting down their hopes and dreams? Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel HintonChristian Mark Gibbs’s Enjolras was undoubtedly an audience favorite. Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel HintonFour Jean Valjeans and one Aaron Tveit, who may yet don “24601” himself. Photo: Jenny Anderson and Laurel Hinton
The end of Les Misérables was not the end of the Arena Concert Spectacular, as was forecasted by an oddly score-less set of final bows from the cast. Producer Cameron Mackintosh jogged out onto the stage, thanking those onstage for being a part of the musical’s generational legacy. “Gavroches become Enjolras become Javerts. Eponines become Fantines,” he said, beaming, which is to say, this is a musical you grow with.
To prove his point, Mackintosh pointed to a doorway onstage, and out walked Patti LuPone, the West End’s first-ever Fantine, for a rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream” alongside Debbie Gibson, Samantha Barks, Katie Hall, Shan Ako, and Emily Bautista. Mackintosh also then introduced a man he met as a young strapping Australian many years ago — panicked whispers throughout the crowd wondered if this would be Hugh Jackman, actually here — before Philip Quast, a legendary Javert, joined Jeremy Secomb and Jaden. There was a gaggle of Eponines doing “On My Own” followed by a group of Jean Valjeans, and most curiously, Aaron Tveit — a onetime Enjolras who may yet be Jean Valjean in years to come.
For a grand finale, all the generations of Frenchmen and Frenchwomen, innkeepers and students, and cops and robbers joined hands for one final “One Day More.” It was overwhelming and thrilling — maybe Les Miz should always have 60 people onstage. Behind me, as we filed out, the younger of the two tween boys was half-asleep, slowly bringing himself up to standing. “You did good,” his mom told him, but I’m sure he’ll do better next time.
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