There is a particular weight to the air when the first chords of the “Les Misérables” overture swell within the historic walls of the Orpheum Theatre. It feels, in many ways, like a homecoming. In Minneapolis, a city that has weathered its own seasons of upheaval and collective longing, the call to the barricade feels less like a historical reenactment and more like a mirror. This touring production doesn’t just perform a classic; it understands what we have endured as a community, offering something that feels almost sacred in its delivery.
Photo by Matthew Murphy
Set against the turbulent backdrop of 19th-century France, Victor Hugo’s sprawling masterpiece explores the profound tension between the rigid letter of the law and the fluid spirit of grace. At its core is Jean Valjean, a man whose soul is “bought” for God by a transformative act of mercy from the Bishop of Digne. The musical’s religious architecture is built entirely on this theme of redemption, the radical, often inconvenient idea that no soul is beyond salvage.
Randy Jeter’s Valjean is a revelation of stamina and spirit. His journey spans the exhaustive spectrum from a desperate man on the run to a born-again zealot for the good. Jeter’s vocals capture those thunderous moments of “proclamation” with ease, yet it is his hushed, prayer-like delivery of “Bring Him Home” that lingers, hanging in the rafters like holy incense.
Opposing him is Hayden Tee, whose Javert is quite simply perfection. There is an undeniable fear and energy shift the moment Tee strides onto the stage; he possesses that rare gravity found only when an actor fully inhabits the skin of his character. His moral stance is matched by soaring, authoritative vocals. I had been anticipating his rendition of “Stars” for days, and it did not disappoint. In a performance of steeled conviction, his booming baritone never sacrifices nuance, capturing the haunting, cracks in a man whose rigid, Old Testament morality is finally, and tragically, beginning to splinter.
Photo by Matthew Murphy
While Javert represents the unbending law, Lindsay Heather Pearce gives us the very heartbeat of New Testament grace as Fantine. Her descent is rendered with such raw, visceral vulnerability that the sorrow seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. Pearce possesses a vocal clarity that carried her shattering plea for dignity straight to the furthest row of the balcony; it was her final breath that caused my first tear of the evening to fall.
Of course, the darkness requires light, and the Thénardiers (Kyle Adams and Victoria Huston-Elem) provide much-needed comic relief without ever veering into the purely cartoonish. They are the grit in the gears, popping up with a delightfully grotesque energy that reminds us of the world’s opportunism.
Visually, this production is a triumph of atmosphere. It eschews the garish for a muted, painterly aesthetic that gives every frame the depth of a 19th-century French oil painting. It is a show that looks as beautiful as it sounds—a cinematic, sweeping experience that proves to love another person is, truly, to see the face of God.
Whether Les Misérables is an old friend or a new discovery, this cast delivers the revolution with a stellar, heart-wrenching precision. Do not wait, grace is calling.
