Master of Backstage at the Les Miserables House

As I waited outside the stage door for Jonathan Levine, who is both an orchestra member and my contact at Les Misérables, I tried my best not to look too out of place among the musicians, stage crew, and actors hanging out.

They had their inside jokes. “So who are you today?” one man said, while everyone around him laughed.

I smiled uncomfortably then shifted away, feeling very much like the uncool kid on the playground. The mystique and talent surrounding them seemed impenetrable. I couldn’t begin to guess at the secrets of their clique—but couldn’t wait to find them out.

Ever since my mom used to force me to listen to “I Dreamed a Dream” in her car over and over again when I was about five years old, I’ve been a Les Miz addict. I live and breathe the carnival-like beat of “Master of the House.” Who doesn’t, after all?

“I could tell you what I’m sick of playing—‘Master of the House,’” Levine jokes.
Fine. It’s easy to see that playing the clarinet, bass clarinet, and tenor recorder parts to it six days a week would cause even this classic to grow old.

But, excited as I was, I felt a certain amount of trepidation about seeing the inner workings of the show. Would it ruin the magic? Would it be like seeing Jean Valjean taking a smoke in Times Square? Or like hearing once and for all that Santa Claus doesn’t exist?

I soon had my answer. Seeing the trapdoors, hundreds of period-piece costumes, and bloody, stuffed French revolutionaries hanging from the ceiling only increased my awe of a show that’s older than I am. Speaking to Levine and Matt Clemens, a male swing and dance captain, only increased that admiration. I finally realized how much effort goes into their daily performances.

Despite the fact that Clemens has been working with Les Miz for nine years, he still seeks perfection in his dancing and is constantly revising his roles.

“You have to. People come to see a Broadway show,” he said. “Fortunately, the show allows for that kind of leeway. There’s a lot of freedom.”

Levine agrees that it is the same sort of situation for the musicians, and he spoke about a performer’s responsibility to run the show to its full potential. “It’s difficult to keep it fresh, and it requires a lot of discipline to always play at your best.”

But the production that’s currently running, as a revival, has also taken steps to keep up with modern audiences. It runs under three hours, whereas the original ran about three hours and twenty minutes, and—much to the disappointment of some hardcore ’80s rock fans—most of the synthesizer parts have been cut.

“This version is less reliant on synthesizer and more emphasis is put on acoustic instruments, so it has less of an electronic sound,” Levine explained. “There was a time when one of the synthesizers inexplicably started playing this disco beat in the middle of a rehearsal.”

The more time I spent backstage and in the pit, the more relaxed I felt. It was easy to get wrapped up in what was going on around me because the company was so inclusive. Their enthusiasm for their work and their mellow but sociable attitudes were infectious.

“Easygoing. Friendly. Everyone’s having a good time,” Clemens said of the backstage atmosphere right before a performance. “Everyone’s enjoying each other’s company. It gets our energy up to do the show.”

For Levine, the same sort of chemistry is equally important. “It’s rare that there are problems in the pit,” he said. “When there are social problems, it shows in the music. When orchestras are hired, a musician’s ability to ‘play well with others’ is as important as their ability to play their instrument well.”

The cast and crew have an ideal sort of easy closeness that’s visible even from a cursory walk around the theater. This somewhat cramped space, despite its rodent problems, is theirs. In the pit, even the stands have personality. Each musician has personalized his area with mementos like teddy bears, family photos, key chains, dried roses and even a plastic hand. As for Levine, he completes the New York Times crossword between songs.

Clearly, it’s not all seriousness behind the curtain. When you put such highly creative, energetic people together, interesting things are bound to happen. “There are certain traditions ... if you listen carefully, you can hear everyone cheering because everyone plays hacky-sack before the show,” Clemens said.

By the time I was deposited outside the stage door, the queue of a new batch of audience members was down the block. They might not see the dummies being pulled off stage right or spot the keepsakes of the musicians. They might not see the fabulous friendships and personalities that exist outside of the show itself. But they will most certainly notice what such comradeship can do on stage.