The human voice rising to extremes

John Gotti has been acquitted of racketeering and Oliver North's lawsuits have been dismissed. Meanwhile Wayne Gretzky scored his 1,500th point in the National Hockey league and Brian Orser has won the figure skating title in Cincinnati. The best picture Oscar went to Platoon and Paul Newman won for The Color of Money. Finally, Les Misérables has opened on Broadway.

It's been a busy March.

Or it WAS a busy March. All those things happened in March, 1987.

Les Miz opened in March, 1987 -- and again yesterday.

The cynic in me thinks, "come on, do we REALLY need another production of this leviathan of a show?" It had only been gone for three years when it reopened on Broadway back in 2006. That production was pretty much reviled and slunk away in 2008. Now, six years later, it's back again. The producers clearly think every generation needs its Miz; I just wish they realized that a generation typically spans 20 years, give or take.

Don't get me wrong, I do not hate Les Misérables; quite the contrary, I love the show, I really do. I just love creativity more; reruns are a sure sign of UN-creativity and of greed. Neither of them appeal to me.

And what's really wrong with the return of this blockbuster is summed up in one sentence from Christopher Isherwood's review in the Times. Writing of Éponine's song On My Own, Isherwood says, "Though by the time this song arrives, one has becomes somewhat numb to the sound of the human voice rising to extremes in wrenching ballads."

Amen to that brother. Said it myself not so long ago: "I've never watched American Idol, or any of the other TV talent shows, but I've come to blame them for what I've named the “belting of Broadway.” Songs are no longer sung. They're belted." (Blog post of 27 June 2012). Clearly I was on to something almost two years ago, for Ishwerwood also said this near the top of his review:

Much like those televised competitions — “American Idol” and “The Voice” being the national brand leaders — “Les Misérables” presents audiences with a stage full of singers who, one by one, have a chance to step into the spotlight (in this case a very smoke-suffused one) and astonish us with the mighty heft and range of their voices.

(You can read all of Ishwerwood's review of Les Miz the Reboot here.)

Enough with the shouting say I! Just last week I saw a wonderful Broadway musical, A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder, and no one shouted or screamed. Well, there was screaming, but only by people about to be murdered, not by people about to sing.