Just how good is “The Glums?”
In the dim recesses of my memory, quite possibly falsely, I seem to recollect watching an interview with the late and great actor Sir Laurence Olivier in which he made certain observations about playing the role of Macbeth. They were to the effect that this was not really something that was something which should not really be attempted by an actor before the age of 40, for the reason that before then one would not understand the unwanted vicissitudes and tragedies of life. I could not find the exact quote on the internet, but he is attributed with this one, which is in the same vein:
“When you’re a young man, Macbeth is a character part. When you’re older, it’s a straight part.”
From my quinquagenarian perspective I can attest that Sir Larry was one hundred percent correct.
When “Les Miserables”, also variously known as “Les Mis”, “Les Miz”, “Miserable Lesbians” or more simply “The Glums” came out in London in 1985 I did not go and see it. I was very earnest and hard working at the time (I was also a bit broke) and a bit of Music Hall frippery was not really on the agenda, even though the blooming posters seemed to be everywhere. However, when I finally went to see a touring production in the mid 1990’s I was very deeply moved.
As is well known, when the “musical” (I am not sure it is quite that) opened it received a considerable kicking from the critics. I caught a television appraisal of twenty five years of Les Mis re-shown a few weeks ago, and it featured a fabulous and now hilarious clip of snotty and toffee nosed critics on the Beeb’s arts programme, largely dressed in beige, rounding upon it as sentimental, badly written drivel. Whilst it is laden with sentiment, it is neither badly written nor drivel. I understand that some of Mozart’s more playful operettas received a much better reception in the bawdy music halls of Vienna than with the critics of the day; both are interesting illustrations that those who hold themselves out as the self appointed intelligentsia and guardians of cultural (and political?) taste are often not only out of touch, but inferior in acumen to the Common Man.
But I digress. Despite the critical mauling the popularity of Les Mis spread by word of mouth, and the rest, as they say, is history. It is the most successful “musical” in history.
What is the secret of Les Mis success? Leaving aside the fact that some of the songs are remarkably strong, it is the context in which the songs are set that changes their impact from mere emotional punch to emotional jack hammer blow.
It seems to me, on reflection, the world’s favourite musical has a great deal in common with what is often considered or voted the world’s favourite film, “The Shawshank Redemption”.
Neither was critically well received at first. “The Shawshank Redemption” did not even do well at the Box Office. Word spread slowly, and its fame was based on video sales. Both deal essentially with the theme of injustice: undeserved and unfair disasters heaped upon innocent albeit flawed people by “the system” which remorselessly persecutes over a lifetime. Both deal with the theme resistance to that oppression by the underdog, self sacrifice, grief, and facing death and loss. Both may invoke consideration of faith, although in different ways. Les Mis has the added factors of both young love and unrequited love and loss to boot. In both there is a sense of ultimate redemption, even in death, born of compassion and fortitude.
Of course, it is worthwhile noting that this may be an Anglo Saxon, or at least non–French perspective. As I understand it the story of “Les Mis” is woven deep into the psyche or the political DNA for the French. It is part of the national narrative in a way we might think of The Battle of Britain or so forth. Having discussed the film with a kind friend who is French and the mother of four children, her observation is that she finds amongst other matters the thought of young Frenchman killing young Frenchman unbearably tragic.
On a slightly less pompous note, I would also add that that both productions invoke the dramatic device of having the major protagonists crawling and scraping to freedom through a river of s**t. Note to budding authors! Always have your heroes crawl to redemption and freedom through a river of s**t! It obviously sells by the s**tload.
Anyway, the stage production has now received universal, world wide acclaim. So just how good is the film? Well it is getting rave reviews, but here is my two penn’th worth. I toddled down to my local multiplex last Saturday, purchased my ubiquitous packet of wine gums, and awaited being given an emotional going over, somewhat pensive.
How good is it? Well, put it this way: I have never before seen or heard a film get a spontaneous ripple of applause from the audience at the end.
The singing is done live, not dubbed; the actors sang with an earpiece linked to piano to carry the tune, and the 70 piece orchestral score is then added on afterwards. This gives the actors immediacy and real connection with what they are about on screen.
The film is beautifully shot; some of what I believe is called cinematography is superb. So are some of the costumes. I would love to dress as a 19th Century French police inspector – so totally cool! Who designed THAT! I am not qualified to comment on the finer arts of directing, but director Tom Hooper knows what he is doing. But, as ever, it is the cast that makes it. All theatrical drama involves a conceit that we know this is not real, that we are watching “make believe”, and the success of the production will depend on the ability to which we are willing to put that simple fact to one side and believe, or at least suspend disbelief. This becomes an acute issue in the case of a “musical”, because rarely do people conduct their social intercourse through sung verse, with the aid of an orchestra. However, from the moment that this film quite literally cascades from the screen, you can go with it and embrace it.
There is an often justified tendency these days to deride “luvvies” and “celebs” as fatuous and famous only for their pursuit of fame. On the whole, I would encourage this. But it is wrong to confuse all actors with “luvvies” and sometimes there is a good reason why some actors are famous, and that reason is that they are very talented and bloomin’ good at what they do.
I mainly know Hugh Jackman (or “Huge Action” as he is colloquially known to some) as a hairy and hunky man called Wolverine in the “X Men” films. But I also know that he is a very talented singer (and dancer, I believe) with a number of successful stage musicals under his belt, including an acclaimed Oklahoma! in the West End.
In the lead role of Valjean he is colossal. Russell Crowe has got some stick for his singing, which is not the strongest, but I think he brings real screen presence to the role of the martinet Inspector Javert, in one of his best performances. Sacha Baron Cohen, sometimes better known as Ali G, or Borat, has a good go at stealing the show as the villainous innkeeper; apart from the comedic touches there are a few snaps of real nastiness and menace to the performance. The usual joke amongst cinema aficionados is that Helena Bonham Carter just plays herself in every movie; as the innkeeper’s slightly Goth-punk, over the top eccentric other half she does so again, but with great aplomb.
I had a slight problem with one member of the cast being miscast, because I could not imagine a pig in heat, let alone the gorgeous, porcelain skinned Amanda Seyfried, falling in love at first sight with the bloke who plays Marius, but perhaps that is just me.
But if it is Jackman who carries the weight of the movie, quite literally in some scenes, special mention should be made of Anne Hathaway. She comes across as quite a normal and funny woman in interviews I have heard and seen, and she made an appealing, stylish, sexy and feisty turn as Catwoman in the latest “Dark Knight” Batman vehicle (which goes on, and on and on….).
But what to make of Hathaway as the Fantine, girl with an illegitimate daughter who is left broken, penniless and cast out, selling her hair and teeth to provide for her child, and forced into prostitution before dying of neglect and grief?
Hathaway’s performance as Fantine is, frankly, not very good.
It is really, really good. She may not have the power of a West End or Broadway pro, but she has a good voice, and she can act. Her version of the iconic and heart breaking “I dreamed a dream” is her do or die moment in the film. It is filmed up close and personal, and Hathaway does not so much as pull at the heart strings as tear them mercilessly though the rib cage and proceed to fling them all over the cinema with the aid of a baseball bat. I understand that she nearly starved herself to attain the look for the part, and it shows. There is more than a touch of the escapee from a concentration camp about her as she variously whispers, talks and lets rip with the words, venting all the despair and anger of betrayed love, and a blighted, cruelly ruined existence. If she doesn’t get an Oscar for best supporting waif or some such, I am Barry Norman. Did I cry? Of course I bloody cried! I cried in the cinema! I cried when by chance it came on the radio on the drive back home! I cried at the blooming trailer for goodness sakes! This is the best version I can find on the indefatigable youtube:
I did a lot of crying, in fact, through a lot of the film. It sort of does that to you. Quietly, and discreetly mind, in an English way. There were quite a few “I am cleaning my glasses now” and “I have lost things on the floor” moments.
But why did I cry? Was it sentimentality? Maybe so. I would prefer to say that it is because at more than fifty years of age I have come to realise that for some strange metaphysical reason that I ponder in the lonely dark hours, Life comes to test the best of us the most sorely. Because I have loved and suffered loss. Because I have suffered unfair vicissitudes that I never invited or deserved. Because I will not give up, at least not yet. This is what makes both The Shawshank Redemption and Les Mis great art. They contain a profound truth, which is that the injustices and cruelties of the world exist, but can be overcome. It is something that the poncey art critics could never have understood, because they would never have been tested by these things in the first place. Life never tested them.
Anyway, I do prattle on….
How good is it? Bloody good. Oscar for Hathaway, I think. And Russell – where hell can I get one of those coats?!
Gildas the Monk
January 30, 2013 at 00:34
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Gildas
Did you see it in Plymouth, as the reaction at the end was the same as you
encountered?
January 27, 2013 at 19:38
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It’s probably worse in French, tell him. So I won’t be watching it in that
either.
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January 27, 2013 at 17:24
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Nope, I won’t be watching it. I just know I will never recover.
January 27, 2013 at 18:02
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That is a very reasonable view, poor Gildas was in a state I can tell
you…
January 27, 2013 at 14:53
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Another thing, what’s with “Amature dramatics”? Luckily my kids had never
got the urge to tread the boards at school.
The girls did take up the
violin, and had to endure the racket that passed for the “School concert”
every now and then. Yes I know it’s different when its your own kids and you
have to give in to the emotional blackmail, but an “Am Dram” perfomance by
strangers, I’d rather have lighted bamboo splinters shoved under my nails…
January 27, 2013 at 14:46
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Thank you Gildas for your view and link, as we are in a remote area, no
theatre, no cinema, I have been undecided about Les Mis, but no longer! Now I
just have to wait for the DVD to come out and will be able to see it all. It
looks impressive from the clips.
Jean LD
January 27, 2013 at 12:55
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Just had to turn off Les Mis on R4EX at the point where Fantine is about to
enter the toothpuller’s even though I’ve heard it before.
Not sure I could
take stage or cinema version, even with music.
OK I’m a wimp.
January 27, 2013 at 12:40
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It’s not for me but the Olivier anecdote provided a solid foundation to a
good critique, Gildas.
- January 27, 2013 at 12:10
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Call me a Philistine, but as someone who has never been to west end show
(Yeah I know, *GASP*) but I have a very low threshold for “Luvies” and
“Pretentious twattery”. I put it down to being dragged to the panto every year
by my Nan, and Shakespeare plays by the school.
I remember the posters too,
and still refer to them as “Lez Mizrables” to this day. Alas I’m still waiting
for Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice to collaborate on their rendition of “Reservoir
dogs the musical” and actually live in hope…
The last “Live stage” performance I went to was an “End of the pier farce”
starring Lionel Blair and one of the birds from “Allo allo”, and only then
because my mate had been given some free tickets. Yes it was every bit as dire
as I’d imagined it would be, with the “Whoops, there go my trousers” I mean
that just never gets old does it?
January 27, 2013 at 14:25
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Some years ago I took Smuddlette to see Chitty Chitty Bang Bang … after
only 15 minutes I was desperate for it to be over.
I have also vowed to go to my grave without ever having seen Mama
Mia.
January 27, 2013 at 11:27
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What a rip off, Susan Boyle wasn’t even in it!
January 27, 2013 at 11:15
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The link above does not seem to be up and running. I hope this works.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6YwuqWFTbc&list=HL1359285078
I have changed my mind about Hathaway’s voice by the way; I think it is
better than I gave it credit for.
January 27, 2013 at 09:57
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Tangential information- Olivier & Macbeth -Guardian, last
week.
“Laurence Olivier’s Macbeth film project rises from the dead 50 years
on English lecturer stumbles across ‘nonexistent’ screenplay in British
Library for film scuppered by financial problems”
http://www.guardian.co.uk/stage/2013/jan/25/laurence-olivier-macbeth-film-project
January 27, 2013 at 09:48
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What a delight to read a film review that’s not just sponsored,
pretentious, brown-nosing twaddle. I’m almost tempted back to the cinema –
well I may be once they abolish the smoking ban.
January 27, 2013 at 09:42
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I have seen the stage show four times and perhaps the intimacy of theatre
made me miss what was obvious in the slightly more detached medium of a
cinema, that is, the powerful Christian message that it contains. I don’t just
mean the forgiving Bishop character, I mean the whole theme of sin, suffering,
faith and final redemption that flows through the story. I should add that I
write that as a man who is a fundamentalist agnostic!
I read one interesting item in all the reports of how the film was made and
that was the long discussions that went on as to whether or not they should
ditch the sing-through nature of the film and introduce dialogue to make it
more realistic. Russell Crowe clinched the argument against by saying that
singing the songs was like delivering a series of soliloquies – and how right
he was.
As to your opening remarks concerning the right age to play different roles
I can only say that the older I get the more and more sympathetic I feel
towards that mad, old man, Lear!
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January 27, 2013 at 11:10
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David
What a very insightful observation; for some reason the
cinematic version does highlight what is clearly a Christian/redemptive
motif in the story, although it is not necessary to accept it to be moved by
the story.
As you say, the songs are really a series of soliloquies –
which is really why I dont think it is a “musical” at all, it is more like
an opera, or perhaps just its own thing.
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January 27, 2013 at 09:23
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I haven’t seen the film but I did see the original stage production in 1985
and I loved everything about it, from the haunting songs – beautifully sung –
to the inventive and innovative scene-changes. I’ve been in two minds about
going to see the film but I think I will now, on your recommendation
Gildas.
* BTW, I wonder: did you take the hard-hearted, gun-totin’ Sister E-L to
the ‘flicks’ with you and, if so, was she moved to tears?
- January 27, 2013 at 11:25
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No Gloria, he didnt take me. But I was glad to get him out of the house!
In fact I had already seen the film on a night out with a few of the boys
from the Royal Marines’ Mountain and Arctic Warfare Cadre.
As it happens,
even better than that, I had a small part in the film as an extra; in the
storming the barricades scene I was third gunner from the left with the
second cannon. I got a bit told off for trying to use an actual live cannon
ball, but I explained that I was just getting in the swing of things with a
touch of “method acting”.
-
January 27, 2013 at 14:27
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I’ll make sure to watch out for you! Might I be able to identify you by
your signature wimple?
January 27, 2013 at 22:09
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Probably not:- Sister E-L will probably be running up a hillside
singing “The hills are alive…”
January 27, 2013 at 09:18
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Well said! It’s nice to find that there are those of you out there who
agree with me. I’ve read so many carping comments on the film that I concluded
that the “critics” must have seen a different version. The quality of the
singing is their favourite scab to pick but in my view perfect singing would
have spoiled things completely by detracting from the “crawling through sh*t”
atmosphere of much of the film.
Let’s just hope nobody decides to do “Le Miserables II – Return of Javert”,
“Les Miserables III – Gavroche vs The Terminator” etc etc.
January 27, 2013 at 09:05
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I’ve not seen the film but wow, this is a great review. Maybe you should
replace those art critics in beige. I understand and will make sure that I see
the film.
Thanks.
- January 27, 2013 at 22:07
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It has long been my contention that the majority of ‘professional’
critics are so far up their own backsides that they provide little more than
an exercise in intellectual masturbation.**
**Gives a warm glow of satisfaction to the perpetrator, is somewhat
distasteful to any observer, and is of absolutely no use to any other person
at all.
January 27, 2013 at 07:32
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Got it in one!! Summed up my feelings on seeing the film admirably.
January 27,
2013 at 07:02
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Another cracking post…errr, film review!
“…I would also add that that both productions invoke the dramatic device
of having the major protagonists crawling and scraping to freedom through a
river of s**t. “
A metaphor for rebirth?
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