[there's a grief that can't be spoken...]

...therefore it must be sung.

Les Miserables 
Directed by Tom Hooper
Screenplay by William Nicholson
Screenplay/Music Production by Alan Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg
Screenplay/Lyrics by Herbert Kretzmer
Starring: Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Anne Hathaway, Samantha Barks, Eddie Redmayne, Amanda Seyfried, Aaron Tveit, Sacha Baron Cohen, Helena Bonham Carter, and an enchanting and talented ensemble.

I'm about to review this cinematic marvel.  Get on this musical train.

I have been criticized in the past for my inability to be hateful and critical, especially when it comes to theatre and music.  I have been told that I cry too easily, that I love characters too much, that I mourn fictional loss as if it were true.  I know the difference between fiction and reality.  But when a story is beautiful, when it is captivating, when it reaches deep into your soul and pulls at your very senses, you must feel.  Reception on a deep level is connecting the story to your own life; however, reception on an even deeper level is letting the characters live in you, allowing their struggles and successes to seep into your skin, and empathizing with the people who share their stories.  I am not ashamed to feel too much.  The richness and appreciation it adds to my life gives me fuel.

I have been in love with Les Miserables since I was four years old.  My parents went to New York to see the show and brought the soundtrack home with them.  Some of my first solid memories are of listening to that musical over and over again, trying to understand the story, asking my parents questions.  This musical taught me about some very adult subjects, like prostitution, thievery, uprisings, and suicide - I found myself empathizing very much with the character of Javert.  My mom helped me understand that Javert was a man who believed so much in his morals and convictions, that his hatred for Jean Valjean blinded him to seeing any other path in life; and when he was faced with forgiveness and redemption from the man he hated, in spite of the years he spent in obvious determination to destroy this man, he absolutely cannot live in his world any longer.  Every story grabs and twists my heartstrings, and Javert's tragic tale has always held equal standing to those of Eponine, Fantine, Enjolras, Gavroche, the students, the beggars, the poor, the deluded.  I held a particular fondness for Eponine (what girl hasn't, really), and I remember imagining her in a pink bedroom when she sang "On My Own," as the rain poured outside.  I wanted Marius to forget about Cosette and love her; I wanted Fantine to be able to keep her hair and rescue her daughter; I wanted Valjean and Javert to be friends; and I was in love with Enjolras so I wanted him for myself.  I grieved for these people, I adored them, I wept for them.  And when I was nine years old, I went to see the show myself.  I bet my mom $5.00 that I wouldn't cry, and when I emerged from the theatre with tears streaked across my face, she told me to keep the $5.00.  She told me that it was okay to cry, that I should have cried, that when I see and hear a beautiful story and beautiful music, I need to allow myself to be affected.  I knew then that I should never be ashamed of giving into my emotions, and I knew in my deepest heart of hearts that I wanted to be a storyteller, that I wanted to be on stage and bury myself in a character and give the audience the ability to go on a journey with me.

So - the film!  I saw it last night.  I have been ridiculously excited about this film adaptation since I first heard of its conception.  I heard some critiques early on, and I also heard a lot of praise.  Obviously I just needed to decide for myself.  I had good feelings.  I walked into this experience with my heart open, ready to fall in love, ready to be swept away and enchanted.  And I was - I was completely and happily entranced in the film, every moment.  Of course there are imperfections, but that is always unavoidable.  I am ecstatic that people came together to bring this story to a wider audience.  While doing justice to the story, characters, theme, and music, the film also explored realms of the story that only a film can do - the scenery, panoramic views, costumes, make-up (and lack of make-up), montages, the close ups and ability for quieter, darker moments.  These aspects added a richness to the story and performances.  I also enjoyed the close-ups during the soliloquy/solo/ballad numbers, I think that the raw and unmasked emotions these actors selflessly bared for us was a brave and respectful way to give the characters life.  It isn't something one can always get from a stage performance in the nosebleed section (although any actor doing his or her job should be giving that much if not more), and I am glad that this adaptation took advantage of its resources.  Everything was appropriately magical and revolting, hilarious and tragic.  Some things were taken in a bit of a different order, and most of these changes I could accept.  I am happy with the casting.  While I know that a lot of these people were given the roles because of their names (and what Broadway show isn't doing that these days?), I feel like most of them made sense.  And if they didn't make sense right away, they earned my respect in the process.  There is never one perfect person for any role - I am sure hundreds of people well-known and unknown could have done beautiful jobs with these roles, but this is the cast so I will only comment on that.  I have always been a Hugh Jackman fan, and I thought he gave an honest, heartfelt portrayal.  I felt the same about Anne Hathaway, whom I adore, and I found her performance to be brave and thoughtful.  I was unsure about Russell Crowe, yet he surprised me.  While he does not have the beautiful voice that I long for in Javert, his stoic and honest nature interested me, and as he smashed into the Seine, I wept with as just as much sorrow.  Samantha Barks was endearing and tragic, although I didn't fall in love with her as much as I had hoped.  I very much liked Eddie Redmayne, despite the slight splash of femininity he added, and his rendition of "Empty Chairs and Empty Tables" was almost ugly in its honesty - I didn't think the pretty boy had it in him.  Aaron Tveit has the vocal chords of an angel and I am unabashedly enamored with him, so mixing that with the beloved Enjolras had me smitten.  And the horrifically gorgeous stage picture of his death was perfectly captured in the film, from what I could see through the blur of tears :)  Amanda Seyfried is a darling, although her soprano was a little Snow White-ish for me, but I can accept her in the role.  Cosette is easily cast aside as the "boring girl soprano part" and I wish that more people would enrich her spirit a bit, but I liked many of Seyfried's choices nonetheless.  I sometimes think audiences' disaffection for Cosette stems from annoyance that she gets what she wants in the end, but she is not without her trials.  Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen - what a duo.  I always love the laughter and disgust that the Thenardiers bring to the table, and these two added even more of their own spices and quirks.  Young Cosette and Gavroche were perfect.  And the ensemble was outstanding.  I especially loved "At the End of the Day."  The dirt and grime and bad teeth and tears seemed to make the smell of poverty and misery leap out of the screen.  Les Miserables was a surreal, beautiful, sublime experience that reminded me why I have always loved this story, loved these characters, loved this music.

One of the magical things about the theatre, in any medium, is that there are so many ways to depict a tale.  This was one version by one group of people.  It stayed true to the original, and bravely strayed and experimented with new and raw material.  Every production of anything should strive to find something new.  My life was enriched by this particular production, and I am excited that it is in a medium I can experience again and again.

There it is, people.  I'd love to hear your comments.

[amanda]

"Empty Chairs and Empty Tables" - Les Miserables  

[i guess you must be somewhere breathing]

I have not lived in New York City for almost seven months now.  Crazy, right?  Well, maybe not to you, as seven months have brought many life events of your own, but for me, it seems crazy.  And while I do feel like my life is constantly in a transition phase, there is a bit of me that feels...a little...wow I am even afraid to type the word...settled/settling?  I don't know if that even makes sense.  I don't know if I can ever actually feel that way, my heart is in too many places.  But I do feel like I made a good decision; however, with the amount of worrying I do about making decisions, I have not allowed myself to feel comfortable just yet.  Perhaps that is a good thing.  Perhaps one should never feel comfortable, then we wouldn't keep striving for more.  Yet I do think that there should be a combination of comfort and aspiration.  I think in some ways I am often wavering between those, and until now I thought of that as a negative thing.  But I have, once again, proven myself incorrect.

I have felt homesick so many times.  The homesickness I feel for New York City is emotionally overwhelming when it washes over me.  My reasons for leaving stand strong, and the positive outcomes from the move thus far have been lovely.  Theatre, time with family, good friends old and new, less stress about my job, less stress about finances, happier about my living location, and many opportunities on the horizon.  Even though my family has relocated (seriously - I mean it when I talk about our nomadic way of life), the time I had with them while we were living in the same city was perfect.  And I am looking forward to visiting them in their new location, which gives me the ability to keep my connection to the East Coast.  That connection to the East Coast is definitely important to me.  No place is perfect, and while some people may think of NYC as the Mecca for many, it is not lacking in its imperfections.  I think I talked about that a lot.  But my love for that city, though altered, never faded.  I miss so many places, so many people, so many regular day things that are only regular in New York.  I feel so happy, so fortunate, to have called that place my home for four years.  The difficulty lies in merging all of my lives, all of my places, all of the changes I have gone through, into the life I am living now.  I think many people go through this, to some degree, I just wish I didn't think about it so much, didn't worry about it so much.

I have been thinking a lot lately about early childhood behaviors and how they speak to our behaviors as adults.  I have always been afraid of new things.  Going somewhere for the first time, doing something dangerous - I avoid these types of things.  When I was learning how to drive, I avoided getting behind the wheel for as long as I possibly could, and when I did, I would freak out, even though I only practiced in this little residential area for a long time before going out into the real streets.  And even after finishing the class, I waited more than six months to take the test.  And I am still a little afraid when I drive.  Slightly because of the four years of no driving due to complete dependence on public transportation, but I am also too aware of the potential dangers of the road.  Driving can stand in for other things I fear - putting myself out there for love and success.  Moving and changing can help to overcome certain fears; however, some of those fears are ingrained within us and we really have to work to get away from them.  I will never stop being cautious.  Ever.  That's who I am.  I just hope that I can continue to blaze through some of my cautiousness to attain some of the beauty missing from my life.

I am really out of practice with this blog writing thing.

But I have missed it.

So here I go, pushing fear aside, and I'll be back soon.

[amanda]

- The National - "Patterns of Fairytales" -