Of the many reasons to be thankful that Les Misérables has returned to The Theatre at Solaire, the most meaningful one must be this: It has given us back Red Concepcion—and introduced his talents to an infinitely larger theater-going public.
For close to a decade now, Concepcion has performed mainly abroad: as The Engineer in the UK and US national tours of Miss Saigon, as one of the loinclothed wrestlers of Sumo at the Public Theater in New York, and—most notably—as the hapless Amos Hart in the long-running production of Chicago on Broadway.
Ardent followers of the Manila theater scene, however, would know him as the quintessential working actor, appearing with equal ease in both musicals and straight plays before embarking on his international career. In 2015, he was part of two vastly different, first-rate ensembles—The Necessary Theatre’s The Normal Heart at RCBC Plaza, and the superhero musical Kung Paano Ako Naging Leading Lady at PETA Theater Center—on top of winning a Gawad Buhay for his starring turn in Priscilla, Queen of the Desert at Newport World Resorts the previous year.
Les Misérables at Solaire is nothing short of the warmest and most triumphant homecoming for Concepcion.
Back after 10 years
Ten years after its Philippine premiere, Cameron Mackintosh’s blockbuster adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel is back in Manila in a concert-style staging that has been touring the world since 2024.
In this production, Concepcion tackles the secondary part of the innkeeper Thénardier. It’s a role whose one big song, Master of the House, is arguably eclipsed by the big songs of the other principal characters: nowhere near as popular as Eponine’s On My Own, Fantine’s I Dreamed a Dream, Jean Valjean’s Bring Him Home, Javert’s Stars, even Marius’ Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. Thénardier is pretty much the definition of a side character, existing solely as fuel to the musical’s overlapping narratives.
Yet, Concepcion has miraculously turned this innkeeper into the biggest star of Les Mis. Put simply, he is perfect in the role—and the best thing about this show: a comic genius who is always able to find the right texture and scale for his performance. Watching him throughout his 25 or so minutes onstage, one easily grasps the entire spectrum of sleaze and depravity that the pathetic man he’s portraying is capable of. And he completely sells the dark humor in that depravity—especially during Master of the House, which becomes a true-blue tavern sing-along in his hands. By the end of that song—the first of this production’s two standout numbers—the theater feels absolutely alive, the energy palpably electric.
For the generation of theater-goers who “came of age” during the COVID lockdowns, this is the first time they’re watching Concepcion on the Manila stage. And what they’re seeing is far and away the clearest and most focused presence in that show: It’s impossible to look away when he’s performing, and when he’s not, you end up looking for him. In fact, it’s because of Concepcion that one altogether forgets this is actually a concert production of Les Mis.
More than a concert
That last bit is crucial to appraising this production. Tracing its roots to the 2019 All-Star Staged Concert in London’s West End—itself the obvious progeny of the historic 10th anniversary Dream Cast in Concert and the subsequent 25th anniversary concert productions—this current Les Mis nevertheless constantly gestures towards being the fully staged thing; it clearly wants to be more than just a concert. There is all manner of outstanding staging and design infused into this production to support that idea.
The flaw, if one may nitpick, is in the hodgepodge of performance styles of the cast. Rachelle Ann Go is a very melodramatic, Star Cinema romantic lead as Fantine; Emily Bautista is a nonchalant Eponine; Lea Salonga is all shades of broad and busy as Madame Thenardier, with a Cockney accent to boot. And so on.
Individually, the actors generally do justice to the score; with a few exceptions, the singing in this nearly three-hour show is heaven-sent. Taken together, however, it’s like everyone’s performing in their own versions and registers of Les Mis.
This production also brings into focus the fact that the Les Mis of today is no longer the Les Mis of 30 years ago. Specifically, it’s evident that, in certain parts, the musical has been sped-up—supposedly to keep it running under three hours. The changes in musical direction are quite apparent in songs like In My Life, which now denies the listener the chance to fully bask in the sweep of its lush, romantic melody. On gala night, Lulu-Mae Pears as Cosette could barely keep up with the tempo of that big song of hers; elsewhere—and to a far lesser extent—so, too, could Geronimo Rauch as Valjean and Will Callan as Marius.
So it’s left to Concepcion and Jeremy Secomb’s Javert to sell the fantasy of this show being more than just a concert. As it happens, the two are giving the most unadorned performances here—and, in effect, the most effective.
Secomb is literally a cold, impermeable wall throughout the show—you fully understand how this man could spend decades hyperfixating over the parole-breaking ex-con Valjean. That is, until late in Act II, during Javert’s Suicide, which is unexpectedly the other musical highlight of this production. In Secomb’s hands, the song becomes a masterclass in depicting madness and the vicious collapse of the human psyche. By then, Javert has had his principles put to an unanticipated test, the world as he knows it turned upside down by Valjean’s earlier, simple gesture of forgiveness (the latter had spared the former’s life while in captivity during an insurrection).
Secomb’s rendition is the one instance that genuinely complicates the material and—over two hours into this musical—dares to upend the whole of Les Mis, with its ethos of goodness and righteous selfhood, and its allegiance to a particular moral compass.
All things considered, though, this production more or less earns its subtitle: This sold-out run can be quite the spectacular thing.
All about the songs
The staging only highlights how Les Mis works best as a concert: It’s all about the songs, and the big emotions and dramatic moments that come with them. Ensemble numbers like One Day More, At the End of the Day, even Valjean’s Death at the end, are a thrill to behold and listen to. The narrative fluff, more obvious in the fully staged versions, are here very easy to overlook.
More importantly, Manila audiences should be thankful that this Les Mis has chosen to return to Solaire, out of all the possible venues in the capital region, and that GMG Productions has recently renewed its partnership with that theater.
When this production started in Europe in 2024, it was subtitled The Arena Spectacular World Tour and, true to its name, was playing mainly stadiums and arenas like a Lady Gaga concert (for example, the AO Arena in Manchester, with a maximum capacity of 21,000; the Royal Arena in Copenhagen, maximum capacity: 16,000; the Spektrum in Oslo, maximum capacity: nearly 10,000).
Relative to those other houses, Solaire is diminutive. But it also has the best theater technology in Manila, including the best sound. And in Les Mis, now subtitled the World Tour Spectacular, those assets are magnified a thousand-fold, the production itself taking advantage of them to live up to its full title. Watching this Les Mis is like coming face to face with a wall of sound, in the best possible way. It’s the musical at literally its crispest and clearest, in terms of the singing and, more so, the orchestrations. You can only envy those who are hearing this gorgeous score for the first time through this production.
Best use of lights in Manila
This Les Mis also has the best use of lights Manila theater has seen of late. It’s not only that the lighting design is deathly precise and consistently attuned to the emotional currents of each scene: It also couldn’t be more inventive. Here, the lighting makes the space, expanding and shrinking the performance environment as necessary, and doing a lot of heavy lifting to summon the setting for each number. The lighting rigs are deployed in ways that help create physical spaces—one moment, the ceiling of a house; the next, an elevated walkway constructing the illusion of balconies or terraces.
And in lieu of sets, this production continues the 21st-century tradition of flashing painterly backdrops to signify location. Now, there are three giant screens projecting those backdrops, and deployed judiciously for close-ups of the singers’ faces during specific moments.
That’s Les Mis 2026 in a nutshell: topnotch production values, sensational singing all around, two unmissable performances, and one homegrown actor who deserves to be seen by more Filipino theater-goers. And it’s only February.
