I attended Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812 many times — perhaps too many — during its 2024 run in Korea. The Korean licensed production had premiered earlier during the COVID-19 era, but due to distancing rules and limited cast interaction, the immersive element that defines the show was missing. That version closed prematurely. This time, the full immersive setup was restored. The corridors and aisles overflowed with ensemble members, and actors conversed with the audience long before the overture began. There were even pre-show performances on the second-floor landings. I spoke several times with the actor playing Marya Dmitriyevna, and even asked my son to say hello to her during the prelude — such a joyfully surreal experience.

Although I never saw the Broadway production in person, I absorbed the atmosphere from cast recordings and YouTube videos. That helped a great deal, especially since the staging in Korea was impressively faithful. My first seat was on the "comet" side behind the stage — a sunken center space designed as Pierre’s study. On another visit, I sat front and center in the fourth row, with the main actors frequently stopping right in front of me. From there, I could clearly see the nuance in the performances, though sightlines to the study area were occasionally blocked. Among the many viewings, I also found that mid-orchestra seats offered the best sound balance, while the middle of the second balcony gave a special thrill — especially when Pierre’s gaze swept upward during the comet’s passage.

I attended performances with Julian Kim and K.Will as Pierre. As a long-time admirer of Julian Kim, I was familiar with his vocal range, and after listening to Josh Groban’s recordings, I began to imagine how Julian might interpret the numbers. Meanwhile, K.Will, known for his powerful high notes and captivatingly raspy soaring tone, promised a very different color for Pierre.

My expectations were not wrong. Julian Kim’s Pierre felt like a younger person, close to Paul Dano’s portrayal — awkward yet engaging, smiling, and making efforts to connect with people. His baritone voice filled the auditorium in major solos like "Dust and Ashes" and "The Great Comet of 1812," but what I admired most were the segments without a definitive melody. Julian seamlessly shifted his operatic vocal techniques to deliver the meanings of the songs almost like narrative storytelling. His interpretation was quite different from Dave Malloy’s, Josh Groban’s, or other Korean Pierres. At first, I felt a bit uncertain, but later realized it was an artistic choice to portray Pierre closer to the character in Tolstoy’s original novel. After all, Pierre Bezukhov was under 30 — a man despairing from a failed marriage, yet brave (or reckless) enough to throw a policeman and a bear into a river. Understanding that choice, many moments clicked for me in retrospect: the joyous Pierre falling into self-doubt after shooting Dolokhov, the naive Pierre blessing Anatole’s supposed elopement, raging once he realized Natasha was involved, and ultimately, Pierre’s inner growth through comforting Natasha.

This Korean staging emphasized Pierre’s centrality even more than I expected. After “Dust and Ashes,” he descended from the stage to close Act I, a directorial decision that strengthened his narrative arc. Watching him play accordion, tambourine, drums, and resonator bells added to the immersive energy of the show. For Julian, this must have been like an accelerated masterclass in musical theater. Unlike proscenium musicals, The Great Comet allowed him to observe the conductor up close, interact with the entire cast in real time, and absorb the rhythm of the production from within. With his quick adaptability, what takes others years to internalize, he seemed to gather in one intense season.

K.Will’s Pierre was a complete contrast. He portrayed a sad man, but one not confused about himself — an observer of life, engaging only when drawn into it. He seemed like a man who passively allowed himself to be used by his wife and brother-in-law without much emotional reaction. K.Will’s portrayal reminded me of Dave Malloy’s own Pierre — worn down and detached. His "Dust and Ashes" was soaring, with slightly raised notes that gave me chills. "The Great Comet of 1812," starting from a low, narrative-like tone, beautifully blossomed toward the latter half thanks to his rich timbre. Perfect pitch always rewards, and K.Will’s interpretation was no exception.

I did not attend Dokwon Ha’s performance in person, but I later found a video online. Among the three, his voice was the deepest and richest. I heard that his portrayal was highly nuanced, perhaps influenced by his extensive experience as a TV drama and movie actor. In interviews, he humbly stated that this role was a challenge because he had to sing while playing piano and accordion, but reviews praised his layered depiction of Pierre’s inner turmoil alongside his strong vocal performance.

Yu Yeonjung from the Korean girl group WJSN (우주소녀), now an established musical actor, played Natasha and was consistently excellent. Her singing was solid — a bright tone — but her acting surprised me more. She portrayed Natasha not as someone who wants to be liked, but as someone who feels deeply and reacts from the heart. Her expressions in "No One Else," or the flicker of regret after asking Anatole about Moscow, were subtle but compelling. In "Charming," she danced and changed costumes with such grace it felt cinematic. However, I must note that while Yeonjung’s diction seemed generally good and perhaps a little nasal, her voice did not always survive the theater’s natural reverb, which sometimes muddied her quicker, wordier passages.

Soobin from WJSN portrayed the youngest and most naive Natasha. She sang with a light, clean vocal and often carried a sad or anxious expression throughout the performance. Lee Jisoo offered the most stable singing with clear diction. Her Natasha was not naive; she actively and willingly pursued Anatole and often belted during the songs, using gestures that gave her a vibe closer to a mid-20th-century style. However, in her final performance, she fully embraced the Natasha of 1812 in Act II, showing true despair after Anatole’s flight.

Among the Anatoles, Jung Taekwoon (Leo from the boy group VIXX)’s portrayal became my clear favorite. He masterfully walked the line between sleazy and magnetic, improving with each performance. Early on, he leaned on charm, but later added insecurity and absurdity, especially when interacting with Dolokhov and Hélène. He flirted not just with characters but with the entire audience — tossing kisses and exaggerating poses. It was shameless, hilarious, and perfect. Ko Eun-sung delivered a vocally strong Anatole, brimming with the self-confidence of a man convinced of his own attractiveness. Initially cocky, he gradually revealed Anatole’s more vulnerable, even pathetic, nature as the story progressed. Shownu brought his own interpretation, focusing more on audience interaction than onstage character relationships. His performances gained vocal strength by his final show. In a promotional YouTube video featuring all three Anatoles, Shownu joked that he couldn’t fully follow Taekwoon’s detailed discussions of acting and singing nuances during a dinner together — a humorous moment that highlighted the different artistic approaches the actors brought to the role.

The actor who played Andrei had a vibrato that sometimes wavered, but at other times his voice sounded unexpectedly rich and textured. I even found myself using his tone as a reference point for how the theater’s acoustics treated different vocal qualities.

By the time I saw the show for the third or fourth time, the production had found its rhythm. The ad-libs were flowing, transitions were seamless, and character interpretations deepened. Even scenes like the duel had evolved — Pierre’s body check after not getting shot had become a running gag. Most importantly, I stopped trying to understand the show. I started living inside it. I danced, clapped, did high-fives. I watched from the front row, from behind the stage, from the sides. The lighting, especially when the comet passed, created moments that photographers would dream of. And through all of it, I was constantly surprised by how emotionally satisfying it remained.

At first, I thought The Great Comet of 1812 was simply a show where you “play, listen to Pierre, play again, and listen to Pierre again.” But the more I listened, the more I grew to savor every syllable he sang. By the later performances, I was enjoying not just the music, but the way every element of the show came together.

After one performance, I went straight to see Dear Evan Hansen with my son. He was exhausted. I, on the other hand, felt like I could go right back to The Comet for another round. Maybe the actors wouldn’t be there. But the echo of the music, the lights, and the comet would still be waiting.