Les Misérables
(2012)
I’ve noted a few times that I’m not the
greatest fan of musicals (every time I see one, actually), but I’m always
willing to give any genre a chance (well, maybe not torture porn; I know going
in I’m not the most receptive audience). I love the film version of How to Succeed In Business Without Really
Trying. I could probably even (vaguely) sing along to it. Les Mis, though. I’ve never seen it
performed, never read Victor Hugo’s novel. I didn’t really have any
expectations for it either way, except that there’s a danger of being spoiled
by hype when something is acclaimed as the best ever of its kind. Fortunately
(well, not for those who wanted a definitive movie version), this concern had
been thoroughly dampened down by the generally negative word on director Tom
Hooper’s choices regarding how to film the adaptation.
The Hooper thing is probably easiest to
discuss first, since his choice to shoot 90% of the movie in close-up is indeed
baffling. In close-up, using wide-angle lenses and mostly handheld. Oh, and
plenty of swooping camera movements cut in at random moments. And… Dutch
angles. I can kind of see some of the thinking behind some of these choices. He
wants to create something raw and immediate, the equivalent with the camera to
the dictate that the cast sing live. But the results are anti-intuitive for the
most part.
It can work to an extent for a solo,
isolated performer singing to themselves, but with any interaction the cast are
cut off from each other; an island of their own head and shoulders, usually at
one side of an empty frame. There are rarely clear establishing shots, and any
sense of geography is by luck rather than design. Worse, the effect of handheld
camera is as if someone has been on set making an amateur documentary; it is jarringly eat odds with artifice of the musical form. This is supposed to be an epic tale, but you wouldn’t know
it the way Hooper films it. There is no sense of scale, and the extravagant sets
more often than not go to waste. Occasionally, the weirdness of his choices
seems some how appropriate; the tavern grotesquerie of Master of the House sort-of works, but in general the preponderance
of low angle, wide lens shooting yields is distorting and tonally inappropriate. Given how visually illiterate Les Mis, I wouldn't let Tom Hooper mow your lawn if I were you.
That said, despite Hooper’s best (or worst)
efforts, the tale remains an involving one The songs are mostly strong, with a
clear sense of narrative and purpose. This is Hugh Jackman’s show, and he gives
a phenomenal performance as Jean Valjean, binding the disparate elements
together and showing both heart and a belting pair of lungs. He’s so good that,
when the young love/revolution plotline arrives during the second half, the
film is off-balanced. Maybe this is a problem with the stage version too, but
the proceedings only pick up again whenever Jackman’s on screen. I don’t think
this is particularly the fault of Eddie Redmayne and Amanda Seyfried in that
I’m not sure any performers could make what is a fairly sudden an insipid
declaration of love gripping. The revolutionary speechifying and warbling are similarly
laboured.
I don’t have much comment about the vocal
performances; to my tin ear everyone sounded fine, although poor Russell Crowe is
clearly not as proficient as his co-stars. Javert seems like a thankless sort
of part anyway; enough screen time that he shouldn’t be a mere cypher, but
insufficient depth to allow him to rise above being a real stinker. His eventual fate rather reminded me of how
Captain Kirk will sometimes confuses a alien or robot into self-destruction by
introducing it to human concepts such as “love” or “emotion”.
I shouldn’t have dipped into the DVD
extras, as now I can find little positive to say about gushing diva Anne
Hathaway. Yeah, she cut her hair. She’s amazingly brave, blah blah. Whatever.
It’s not like she’s stricken with alopecia. I found myself curiously unmoved by
the plight of Fantine once she was ejected from the workhouse. Her subsequent mistreatment
felt overly schematic, almost as if it was there just to lead into I Dreamed a Dream. Which, despite being
one of the few sequences where Hooper just lets his performer get on with it,
left me stone-hearted.
Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham
Carter’s comic relief didn’t really work for me either; perhaps they are more
effective on stage, where the emotional stakes are higher and so the humorous
release they provided is more necessary.
Nevertheless, I was caught up in Valjean’s journey through the decades. Jackman
does all the heavy lifting, essentially carrying the piece while his director
repeatedly fails the production. Even though Hooper’s film is a failure, enough
of the musical’s essence survives to convince me that, done right, Les Misérables has a claim on its reputation.
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