The classic staging of “One Day More” is a true wok of art. It imagery is iconic, it never fails to be an epic moment, and it’s beautifully layered, with different nuances to notice with every viewing.
First there’s the juxtaposition of Jean Valjean and Cosette at stage left with their traveling trunk, Marius and Éponine at stage right. In this alone I think we have potential layers to unpack. Did Nunn and Caird mean to draw a parallel between these two duos, and if so, was Valjean/Marius and Cosette/Éponine their intended analogy, or Valjean/Éponine and Marius/Cosette? The initial arrangement has Valjean and Marius downstage with Cosette and Éponine behind them, and the two men are the two who sing first, which would seem to parallel Valjean/Marius and Éponine/Cosette: the two men each find themselves at a distressing new turning point in their lives, while the two girls both quietly suffer, with the men too absorbed in their own anxiety to notice. But in some performances, Cosette kneels down in front of the crate while Valjean stays further back, which would seem to juxtapose Cosette with Marius and Valjean with Éponine, as does the fact that soon afterward, in all performances, Marius and Cosette run to center stage to sing together, leaving Éponine and Valjean alone. Those parallels fit too: we have the two lovers, both in despair at being parted, and each is also loved by another person (Valjean platonically, Éponine romantically) who needs to selflessly let them go. In Act II, Valjean’s interjections in “Every Day’ that echo Éponine’s in “A Heart Full of Love” certainly emphasize that parallel further.
Other small, easily-overlooked details worth appreciating are the belongings Valjean and Cosette pack in their trunk. Besides a generic blanket, they’re all items that mean something: the Bishop’s candlesticks of course, a wooden cross and a Bible emphasizing Valjean’s religious faith, Cosette’s clothes from when she was a little girl (a nice reference to Valjean’s secretly keeping them in the novel), and of course the doll he gave her. All ideal items for Valjean to pause over and ponder as he packs them away, reflecting on his journey so far as he faces an unknown future.
Then there’s Enjolras’s grand entrance at center stage. Marius and Cosette draw apart as if dragged by forces beyond their control, and where they were standing, as if to symbolize the revolution coming between them, Enjolras appears, clad in his signature red vest for the first time and brandishing a rifle above his head. All around him and behind him the Amis, Gavroche and the women all gather, hugging and pantomime-cheering, flushed with revolutionary fervor, yet amid the excitement Enjolras stands motionlessly majestic, the eye of the hurricane, belting out his call to arms. The imagery perfectly captures the feeling of the eve of rebellion and makes the audience eager to follow the revolutionaries to the barricades.
Meanwhile, the turntable makes a subtle but effective contribution, taking Valjean and Cosette to the side of the stage while bringing Marius and Éponine to the center, in front of Enjolras and co., as Marius debates whether to join them or follow Cosette.
While I know it’s not done in every performance, I also like the standard detail of Éponine taking Marius’s hand and leading him offstage at the end of his lines. It provides a nice shout-out to the novel by implying that it’s Éponine who convinces Marius to join his friends. While I doubt in the musical her motive is to lead him to die with her, it still makes sense that she should do this rather than let him go across the sea.
Then, after a brief moment of slow-mo, the revolutionaries shift into the iconic triangle formation, Enjolras at its head in all his red-vested, rifle-wielding glory, and they march back and forth in time to the music. Without a doubt this image is second only to the barricade as the production’s most famous visual and rightfully so. No other choreography could have so perfectly captured the heroic determination of the revolutionaries or or the pulsing thrill as their fight for a new world draws near. While the earlier staging of “Do You Hear the People Sing?” with its ragtag rallying atmosphere was stirring in its own right, this stylized formation and marching brings the revolutionaries a new dignity, making them come across not just as hot-blooded young rebels, but as true soldiers of freedom and righteousness.
Meanwhile, we have Javert at stage right, dressed in civilian clothes and donning his tricolor sash, then kneeling down to pray for success in his mission. A valuable reminder that faith and staunch values are what drive him, not malice, even as he sings of our heroes wetting themselves with blood.
Then the Thénardiers pop up from the sewer grate to sing their lines – an image that perfectly suits the loathsome creatures they are and nicely foreshadows Valjean’s encounter with Thénardier down there in Act II. The 25th Anniversary production’s just having them appear at a window can’t compare.
Meanwhile, we have a beautiful moment between Valjean and Cosette as they pack their trunk. I’ve written about it before, but I’ll write about it again. Valjean picks up Cosette’s old doll and shows it to her; she cradles it for a moment, then either packs it away herself or gives it back to Valjean to pack; and then they hug. This is my favorite of all the production’s minor details. The fact that Cosette puts the doll away, or gives it back to Valjean, reinforces that, no, she’s no longer a child. But the fact that she takes the time to cradle it first shows that she still treasures the memories of her childhood with Valjean – and still treasures him too, as emphasized by their hug. Valjean and Cosette have so little time onstage to show the depth and warmth of their father/daughter love, and I think it’s a shame that more recent variants on this scene have highlighted the growing distance between them instead (e.g. their pantomime argument in the Connor/Powell staging, or their staring out of opposite carriage windows in the movie). As far as I’m concerned, their semi-argument in “In My Life” and her lying to him in “Attack on Rue Plumet” do that well enough already. Let this moment reinforce their bond!
Then Marius and Éponine reenter through the triangle and Marius emphasizes his pledge to fight with his friends by taking his place at Enjolras’s side while Éponine foreshadows her own fateful choice by marching at Marius’s side in the same way.
Then comes the final iconic march as the various soloists sing their counterpoint. A student (Courfeyrac, I think) lifts Gavroche up onto his shoulders, giving him a prominent place in the tableau as well. Valjean kneels behind the seated Cosette with his hands on her shoulders as both gaze outward toward their uncertain future. At the back of the formation, another student waves the enormous red flag of the revolution. After Javert finishes his solo, he finally joins the formation too, while the Thénardiers pop back down into the sewers, not taking part in the song’s idealistic final chords. Smoke, used so atmospherically throughout the production, wafts through the air and brings a sense of mystical, mythic grandeur to the revolution’s eve. Then the turntable spins Valjean and Cosette to the front of the stage, placing them in front of the triangle of marchers for the final grand notes, with the massive flag of freedom waving above everyone.
At the very end, the stage abruptly goes dark with a final blast of white light. With multiple viewings, knowing that white light is used to signify death throughout the production, it’s hard not to read this moment as foreshadowing that the next day will bring tragedy, not triumph. But for first-time audiences, it ends Act I on an exhilarating cliffhanger, leaving them very, very eager to see what will happen next.
I’m sorry for writing a novel almost as long as the Brick, but there’s so much to explore in the classic staging of this scene. So many new things to appreciate every time you see it.
