I attended the North American Tour of Les Misérables at the Kennedy Center Opera House in July 2025. For the first two performances, I sat in limited-view seats on the far right and left sides, and for the final show, I moved to the middle of the fifth row.

As the venue is an opera house, the orchestra pit was large and spacious. From my vantage point, I could tell that many of the brass parts were played via keyboard — a standard practice in touring versions of West End productions using the so-called “New Orchestration,” which had also been applied in the Korean licensed production. However, when seated front-right, I clearly heard brass coming from underneath the stage, as at least five real instruments were played live.

The Kennedy Center is an impressive venue. Red-covered arch speakers flanked both sides of the proscenium, with two additional arch speakers hidden behind the wood-paneled columns. Even the smallest speakers were covered in burlap — a nice touch of attention to detail.

When the prologue began, it became clear how far the stage was from the audience. The pit, though partly covered, was not used as a performance area, and the wide proscenium (approximately 18 meters) kept the upper-stage levels — such as balconies or second-story sets — visually contained within the stage space. As a result, the atmosphere felt more distanced than immersive.

During the ensemble number “Look Down,” the volume was modest, but the individual singers’ voices were distinct and well-articulated. I was especially impressed by the actor playing Javert — his voice reminded me of Michael Ball’s, with excellent projection and enunciation.

Because I was in limited-view seating, I missed much of the stage action, but that didn’t diminish my overall experience. Having seen multiple concert versions, a Broadway show and Korean licensed productions in past years, I was already very familiar with the show.

I especially appreciated both Fantines I saw. For the first two shows, the understudy performed with a deep mezzo-soprano — almost alto — singing with great dignity. Her “I Dreamed a Dream” was one of the finest renditions I’ve heard. On the final day, the principal actress brought a more resonant, dramatic tone and conveyed the pain of exploitation and despair with raw power.

Jean Valjean was the heart of the production. His head voice was beautiful, and his low notes filled the auditorium with stability and control. I was also struck by this production’s take on Thénardier. He was not portrayed as a buffoon but rather as a survivor — someone who believed his actions were justified. There was no grotesque caricature. Madame Thénardier, similarly, was matter-of-fact and grounded. Their naturalistic acting and strong vocal performances gave the characters new depth.

Gavroche was played by two different young actors. One was very young, with slightly babyish diction, while the other — slightly older — became the unexpected star of the show. Both were effective in their roles. Little Cosette had the “typical Cosette” timbre, and the adult Cosette carried the same tone — clear mid-range with wide vibrato and some nasality. This felt typecast, reminiscent of the Korean double casts I’ve seen.

The student ensemble was strong, and Grantaire stood out due to his drunken antics and interactions with Gavroche. The actor waving the red flag during the barricade scenes matched the rhythm perfectly — perhaps thanks to a slightly smaller and more manageable flag — a first in my experience.

My favorite parts of this production were the ABC Café and barricade scenes. Enjolras had a grounded, baritone voice and sang his high notes without flinching — a rare treat. I believe this was the first time I heard an Enjolras use chest voice so confidently, and it made my heart race. On the second day, a different actor took on the role with a slightly lighter, more head-voice-driven approach, but he was just as powerful and projected superbly. Both had rich mid and low ranges, and I applaud the casting director for such excellent choices.

Marius was tall, handsome, and had a classic “Marius voice”: clean and lean, befitting a refined young man ready to sing serenades. As soon as he appeared, I found myself worrying about Valjean’s back — Marius is no featherweight, and Valjean must carry him through the sewers later in the show! Thankfully, the actor playing Valjean did the job effortlessly.

I was particularly looking forward to the “Confrontation” scene. On the first day, I mostly heard Javert; on the second, mostly Valjean. On the final day, the acoustics didn’t carry well, and the chain sound effects overpowered the vocals. Perhaps the opera house was not acoustically optimized for amplified musical theater. On Broadway, the sound balance is usually impeccable, so I was a bit disappointed by the uneven mix in this venue. This contrast reminded me how venue acoustics can shape perception as much as performance.

One standout moment was Javert’s soliloquy. In this production, Javert visibly aged alongside Valjean — something often overlooked. In the Korean productions I’ve seen, only Valjean showed the passage of time, but here, Javert's physical and emotional transformation was equally evident. His soliloquy revealed a more profound inner struggle than I’ve previously seen. It was not simply a suicide — it was a mortal crisis of a man who had lived righteously by a strict moral code. The day Valjean spared his life was, in his mind, the day he died. That act of mercy destroyed his certainty, and his world unraveled.

As he prepared to jump, I could hear a low hum enhancing the reverb, adding a surreal atmosphere to the moment. His final phrase resonated beautifully through the auditorium — clear, controlled, yet filled with fear, remorse, confusion, and helplessness. In that instant, I felt I was witnessing a man who could no longer act, only fall. It was one of the most emotionally honest depictions of Javert’s end I’ve experienced.

Eponine had a dramatic voice with expressive flourishes, though her lines were sometimes hard to make out due to the reverb. Her final scene, sung softly, came through more clearly and made a strong impact.

It was a privilege to attend this North American Tour. On my first night, I sat beside a couple who were following the tour from city to city. They had already seen it in five cities and nine performances, and they shared some behind-the-scenes stories with me.

In terms of staging, most elements mirrored the Korean licensed production, with only minor variations. The bridge set in this version descended from above, while in Korea, it entered from the sides. Another small difference: here, Valjean left his bag at the entrance to the Thénardiers’ inn, while in Korea, it became a prop for an attempted theft by Thénardier. “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” was staged identically, except that Marius handed the candle to Cosette in this version, while in Korea he placed it beside the bench. These subtle contrasts aside, the overall production and blocking were the same.

It was deeply satisfying to see the show again after 20 or 30 years — this time in English. Many of the actors used American accents, except for Javert, who occasionally slipped into a British one. And of course, all were playing French characters.

The weather was scorching, and the air conditioning inside the theater was set to frigid. As a result, I treated myself to a Les Misérables zip-up hoodie — the perfect excuse for a souvenir. Wearing it on my way home, I realized this show had warmed me in more ways than one.

Having seen the licensed Korean production just the year before, I found it especially rewarding to revisit Les Misérables in its original language and staging. This time, I chose to focus on vocal and acting nuances rather than narrative or production details — because after all these years, it’s the human voices that continue to move me most.