My initial exposure to the musical Les Miz was a live recording of "I Dreamed a Dream" sung by Aretha Franklin. Being 8 or 9 years old at the time, I was unaware that the recording was taken at an inaugral performance and naturally assumed it was recorded live during the actual show. As a result, I spent a year or so under the impression that Les Miz was all about the oppression of black slaves in the American south. It wasn't until I stumbled across a used copy of the 10th Anniversary Concert on VHS, watched a few minutes and thought: "Why are they all white?" that my misinterpretation was corrected. Now I realized why the title was in French, and settled in to watch the story of one man's journey through the years to earn redemption, and the uprising of the miserable ones along the way. I'm not even going to bother to give a more complete synopsis than that, it'd take too long.
Since that inauspicious start, my knowledge of Les Miz, its story and its many productions has become much more well informed. I now own not only the concert but the French concept album, the original London and Broadway recordings, the three hour Complete Symphonic Recording and a highlights album of the Duisberg production in German. When I learned the long-awaited film version was finally to be made, I braced myself. I knew I had to see it, yet my buring passion for the show had faded somewhat in the last several years. Would this film rekindle the flame or put it out for good? Suffice it to say, the film's highlights album now sits on my shelf next to the other recordings.
I'll be honest: Les Miz didn't hook me from the start. True, the opening underwater shot of the tattered French flag floating on the surface, then the dramatic rising of the camera to reveal a giant ship being pulled into drydock by Javert's prisoners was very impressive. But the overture sounded so timid, so scaled back. Where was the dymanic surround sound this film surely deserved? Why was all the music and singing so firmly anchored in front, reserving only sound effects for the back? And why wasn't it louder? Had the much-hyped "live" singing on the set prevented the orchestra from getting too big? I can only speculate for now, but despite Hugh Jackman looking his grittiest and Russell Crowe looking imposing, I wasn't won over yet.
A few minutes went by. I enjoyed seeing Colm Wilkinson, the original Jean Valjean in both London and New York, as the Bishop of Digne. But why were all the cameras so tight on the action? Where's the sense of space, the epic grandness these types of Hollywood films are afforded. Why is everything so cramped? Still not convinced...
Then we have a time lapse. Anne Hathaway is introduced as the destitute Fantine. Most reviews focus on Hathaway as delivering the film's defining moment while singing the aforementioned "I Dreamed a Dream." It was a tremendously moving performance, and I felt my cold heart slowly begin to melt at the sight of her tear drenched face, violins weeping in the background along with her. I could see what all the fuss was about; it was a tour de force of emotion and Hathaway fully deserves the Best Supporting Actress oscar for it.
Now things were getting interesting, the setting more stylized and gritty. My heart lit up even more at the sight of Frances Rufelle, the original Eponine in both London and New York, as one of the "Lovely Ladies" of the evening, and I began to tear up at the sight of Fantine dying while remembering her daughter's face.
Then we have a confrontation between Javert and Valjean, after skipping out on his parole all those years ago. Aha, things are picking up now. Then it's Valjean off to rescue Cosette from the hands of the horrible inkeepers, the Thernardiers. Now for some comedy relief. Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen gave delightfully restrained performances of the two most over-the-top roles the stage version produced, no doubt determined to make the parts their own. Then Valjean has the abused Cosette in his arms and has fled with her in a carriage, delivering the newly written "Suddenly", a beautiful little song that fits so seamlessly into the score it's as though it's always been there. I found myself starting to swoon at the emotion. The magic truly was back.
I won't ramble on much longer. Suffice it to say the next time lapse brought about my favourite section of the film by far: the building of the barricade and the revolution itself. By this point I was totally transfixed and mesmerized by everything on the screen. By this point, I understood why the sound was intimate, why the cameras so tight. The story is an epic one, yes, but it's so intrinsically human that Hooper made the wise decision not to let the scenery and settings engulf them. By keeping the camera focused tight on the action, we're in the story. We're fighting among them. On stage there will always be a sense of detachment as you watch people perform in front of you, often from quite a distance away. But in film it doesn't have to be that way, and I salute the filmmakers for making this as filmic an experience as possible.
Nor did we need over-produced music to engulf us and take us out of the story. Keep it quaint, keep it real. And it made it all the more powerful when the booming gunshots went off; so loud you'd swear you were in the line of fire yourself.
The performances were marvelous. Jackman was a terrific Jean Valjean, encompassing hurt, betrayal, anger, love, compassion...name the emotion, he covered it beautifully. Hathaway was to die for as Fantine. The divisive reaction to Russell Crowe left me feeling somewhat unsure about what to expect from him, but I was pleasantly surprised. No, his voice wasn't terribly commanding, but his more restrained, quiet Javert worked for the movie, and his presence was as imposing as ever. The brooding Aaron Tveit was an impressive Enjolras while Daniel Huttlestone was a great little scene stealer as Gavroche. Amanda Seyfried performed the underwritten role of Cosette without the overdose of saccharine many of her stage counterparts have imbibed the part with, and won my favour as a result, while Samantha Barks delivered a beautiful performance as Eponine. The real find for me, however, was Eddie Redmayne, who was absolutely fantastic as Marius Pontmercy, and managed to make his love for Cosette feel considerably less shallow than I've ever seen/heard before. With all due respect to Hathaway, Redmayne's gutwrenching performance of the tearjerker "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" was the film's defining emotional moment for me.
By the time the film's ending came about, I was trembling all over, my cheeks soaking wet, my body feeling numb. I won't give away more spoilers, but this movie has my vote for greatest ending of all time. I stayed in place until the credits had ended, being swept in by the gorgeous instrumental medley that accompanied them. As I stood to leave, the last one in the theatre, quietly sniffling, I knew I'd just had a once in a lifetime experience. I will, of course, buy the blu-ray when it comes out, but no subsequent viewing of the film will be quite the same for me. Never again will I have the opportunity to start the movie with a feeling of doubt, of disappointment, only to find myself being sucked in and won over until I've totally forgotten any other world exists apart from the one on the screen. To become so immersed in something very familiar yet very new at the same time is a rare feeling that's hard to put into words, but it's a tremendous feeling. I will cherish the memory of this viewing more than practically any other first-time movie experience. To see something you've loved for years given new life in such a beautiful way is beyond words. My thanks to all the cast and crew of Les Miz. You've done yourselves proud and created a true masterpiece. C'est Magnifique!
No comments:
Post a Comment