It would be a mistake to approach Notre Dame de Paris—a French import now landing briefly in New York after a 24-year wait as it circled the globe—expecting a “musical” in the traditional, Broadway sense. Creators Luc Plamondon,a rock lyricist, and Richard Cocciante, a pop composer, label their rendering of Victor Hugo’s 1831 epic novel a “musical spectacle.” It’s what we might call a pageant. It has music, to be sure; indeed, it’s all music, sung through like an opera. Counter to the operatic tradition, however, the performers’ voices are electronically enhanced to such a glutinous consistency that you may find your ears yearning to discern a trace of authentic emotion or individual expressivity.
The one exception is Daniel Lavoie, who here resumes the role he originated, that of archdeacon Frollo, who suffers from the unfortunate condition “être prêtre et aimer une femme” (to be a priest and love a woman). The “opera-musical”—another favored term for this team—is sung entirely in French; screens flanking the big stage at Lincoln Center’s David H. Koch Theater show surtitles translated, not always felicitously, into English.
The object of Frollo’s obsession? The presumably irresistible Esmeralda (Hiba Tawaji), who sways prettily enough, as if caught up in a trance, but otherwise projects no sense of “come hither” carnality. It’s a mystery why Esmeralda captivates not only the priest (the song “Tu vas me détruire,” in which Frollo blames his target for his own lust, is a knockout) but also the idealistic, apparently low-libido poet Gringoire (Gian Marco Schiaretti, competent and occasionally compelling), the handsome soldier Phoebus (a workaday Yvan Pedneault), and of course poor Quasimodo (Angelo Del Vecchio, skewing young—as Victor Hugo intended—but milking this Pagliacci opp for all it’s worth).
For those of us who grew up on Charles Laughton’s indelible, middle-aged Quasimodo from the 1939 film, it’s a bit of a shock to learn—or rather relearn—that there is no final “sanctuary” in the original text; nor do we get a happy ending in this by-the-book rendering. (Neither do we get a Djali, Esmeralda’s pet goat.) We do get a cadre of 20-odd extraordinary dancer/acrobats, whom choreographer Martino Müller deploys brilliantly against a rampart that doubles as a climbing wall. (The impressive set is by Christian Rätz, effectively lit by Alain Lortie.) This first glimpse, of simian outcasts scurrying vertically, is worth the price of admission. Just be sure, though, to opt for a premium ticket in the front half of the vast auditorium: observed from a distance, the company’s feats appear as mere scribbles.
Director Gilles Maheu oversees the many moving parts adroitly, and Plamandon deserves credit for planting helpful historical markers: for example, the notion that revolutionary new influencers (Gutenberg, Martin Luther) might presage an end to what the populace itself, being stuck in the thick of it, couldn’t possibly pinpoint as the “Middle Ages.”
Rätz uses modern crowd control barriers to contemporize the plight of asylum seekers, the refugees and the homeless who continually barrage the cathedral wall. Though the device initially seems a bit heavy-handed, the implicit “plus ça change” message could not be timelier. But left up in the air—along with Quasimodo’s beloved bells—is whether this lavish production can serve as an effective medium.
Notre Dame de Paris opened July 13, 2022, at the David H. Koch Theater and runs through July 24. Tickets and information: davidkochtheater.com
