I didn't really want to be that guy who writes a blog post about the first time they watched Les Misérables (2012) but here I am. It keeps hovering in the back of my mind like few films/plays have.
My thoughts:
-This production was well done. I see why it's such a juggernaut in the realm of Theatre. I get why it's in the canon; I greatly respect the composers/contributors.
-It's so refreshing to hear un-doctored singing.
-The depictions of patriotism are staggering. The fight for justice, the struggle to not be trampled, it is shown in raw form and all of me was rooting for the Trampled.
-There were things about the plot that I didn't like which I don't think I'll mention because that is a different critique.
-The cinematography, the casting, the costumes, the musical arrangements, it was all riveting. It is incredibly rare for me to be unable to do anything else while watching a film. I usually go out of my way to make sure I've got something else to work on. With Les Misérables, I couldn't even EAT while watching.
-Russel Crowe deserves props. I don't know why haters be hatin.
-Fantine's story made me angry beyond words.
-The perfect synchronisation of content and form in virtually every song was simply brilliant. Rousing battle cries sounded like rousing battle cries. Laments sounded like laments. Slimy brothel calls sounded like slimy brothel calls. Monologues felt like monologues. Hope was hopeful. Love was love. It's well done and that kind of writing is not easy. Many don't know that kind of writing exists.
-Sacha Baron Cohen impressed me and I think he played well opposite Helena Bonham Carter. Cohen is a gifted actor and singer. I wish his work wasn't so often lewd.
-If I'm getting the term right, I think this production of Les Misérables succeeded in a cathartic depiction of prostitution, poverty and war violence (among other things). I think their depiction was so accurate that the audience didn't think those things were being celebrated. I think the presentation was so accurate that we wanted to turn away, not to keep watching the smooth choreography or listening to the qualitatively excellent music.
-It was Eponine's solo in the rain, I think around Minute 90, when the title finally clicked for me. Watching her sing her heart out in anguish, I noted the trend of people expressing deep sorrow through song and then beginning to cry. I thought, "everyone's SAD in this movie!" And then I had my duh moment.
-The character Gavroche?? A gem. And perfectly cast.
-I was about eight minutes into the film (I glanced at the DVD player to be sure I wasn't exaggerating) when I started to cry. And, as far as I can remember, I have never cried at a movie. I have been choked up a couple dozen times but I have never so spontaneously broken into tears and then begun sobbing.
Let me tell you why.
Our first protagonist, M. Jean Valjean, has been given papers that mean his status of criminal will follow him the rest of his life. The papers don't show the details of the "crime" and they leave no room for grace. Upon his release from nineteen years enslaved/imprisoned we see Valjean has no success finding work or a place to rest his head. I guess this is what the government (the crown?) intended -- if he can't work or sleep, they have sent him to death.
It makes a difference that we know Valjean was branded a criminal because he stole bread to feed a dying nephew. It makes a difference that we think he was disproportionately punished and that being on parole for life, being treated like scum for life, is largely unjust. He is forced to let the papers be his credibility, his character sketch, his trustworthiness and implicitly his value. The justice lover in me is steadily growing more and more incensed.
Scene: Valjean is huddled in a dark corner of a stable, trying to find sleep on the ground.
Someone opens the door and spots him. Valjean jumps up, ready to flee for his life but the man tells him to come in and partake of wine, food, heat and a bed. [cue tears]
The tears flow faster as I realise the man didn't even ask for papers so effectively, he didn't care whether he was welcoming a violent murderer. He wasn't asking for a label so he could size up a man in a moment.
And then, processing what I'm feeling, I start thinking, that's the Church. I felt so proud to be a part of it. I felt so glad that the Church, at various points in history, has been the one that shows up when the world wants you dead or goes out of its way to make you feel worthless.
I felt like I was pointing, shouting and leaning out of my seat like the parent whose child just nailed a dismount or hit a homerun. "That's MY Church!!"
That's the Church that Jesus built and is still building. (It's not really "mine" at all.) I'm so glad to be a part of it. I'm so glad to be a part of the Body that's doing what's right. Here: have some food, have some shelter, have some clothes, get warm. You are valuable.
When the Church gets it right, it's profoundly beautiful. It's profoundly beautiful.
I'm looking at the gorgeous abbey or convent or whatever it would have been called in early nineteenth-century France and thinking, these people get nothing out of extending themselves like this to strangers! They know exactly Who it is that they serve. They know well that what the Church does usually doesn't make sense to the world. And it makes Jesus look so much better. He's the guy that makes [read: compels, enables] us do right--and we love it. We delight in serving those Jesus has given us to stand in His place, those He has given us to serve as if we are serving Him. It's a beautiful thing and it's a joy.
"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
"The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'"
If this movie had no other effect on my life than causing me to worship Jesus, to see the Church better, to love it more and to want to engage more, it would be more than alright.
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