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A Review: The 2012 "Les Miserables" Film
As a huge fan of musical theater, I think it goes without saying that I was extremely excited for the new "Les Miserables" movie. The closer the release date came, the more excited I got. Even if some of the reviews and production choices made me a bit wary, I was still hopeful that this movie would rock. So, did it?
"Les Miserables", based on the musical of the same name based on the Victor Hugo novel of the same name, follows Jean Valjean, a convict who reforms his ways to become a wealthy man and mayor of a town in France. He is followed by Inspector Javert, a policeman who believes that a criminal can never truly change their ways. The movie/musical/book follows their exploits, the people whose lives these two affect, and the growth (or lack thereof) that these men go through. This is all set against the backdrop of a student revolution occurring in France at the time.
One of the most eye-catching things about this movie is the huge cast made up almost completely of big name actors. Jean Valjean is played by Hugh Jackman. Valjean is a famously difficult role to play, both in terms of acting and singing. Jackman does fine in the film, but not quite as well as I was expecting. His singing is oddly annoying, though he does a good job of nailing the more difficult songs (I was impressed by his renditions of "Valjean's Soliloquy" and "Who Am I?"). His acting is very good, if a bit overwrought at times. He’ll probably get nominated for an Oscar (he does an obscene amount of crying in this role), but I don’t think he’ll win. He definitely wasn’t my favorite performance in this movie.
Anne Hathaway plays Fantine, the endlessly unlucky single mother of a girl that ends up being adopted by Valjean. She plays the part for all its worth, making the most of her rather meager screen time. Her rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" is simultaneously heartbreaking and well-acted. Her singing is also very good (well, as good as possible considering that she's sobbing her way through every song). This will probably go down as one of the defining performances in this role, and I predict that an Oscar will soon be in the hands of Ms. Hathaway.
Sasha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter play the Thenardiers, the opportunistic couple that takes in Fantine’s daughter. These two are delightful. They are a joy to watch whenever they are onscreen. Most of their despicable antics are played for laughs, and it almost always works. Some may take issue with the fact that the Thenardiers are portrayed as villainously as they sometimes are in other productions. I, on the other hand, think that “Les Miserables” can use any comic relief it can get, as long as it works as well as it does here. I welcome the Thenardiers both as villains and as clowns.
Eddie Redmayne plays Marius, a rich schoolboy who renounces his wealth to join the revolutionaries. Marius isn’t the most interesting characters, defined mostly (if not entirely) by his renouncement of his wealth, his position as a revolutionary, and his love for Cosette. Redmayne does well with what he is given, however. He gives Marius a kind of wide-eyed idealism and naivete that at least begins to get at a bit of a characterization. His performance of “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” is affecting and very well-performed. I was surprised by how well Redmayne sang. However, he does sometimes sound as though he’s trying to force an operatic voice that is only sometimes there. Other times, he ends up sounding a bit like Kermit the Frog. He also does this thing where he shakes his head when he vibratos. It’s probably just me, but it bugged me when he did that during songs like “Red and Black”. Overall, though, he takes a character that can very easily be flat and boring and makes him interesting and a pleasure to watch.
Amanda Seyfried plays Cosette. If Marius has a bland character, Cosette has no character at all. Serving as more of a symbol of love than a character, Cosette is defined almost completely by her love of Marius (and, to a much lesser extent, Valjean). Seyfriend does her best with the very little she is given to do. She acts the part fine, but she’s not onscreen for much longer than Hathaway, and she’s has much less to work with. She doesn’t quite have the voice for Cosette, either. This is one of the ultimate soprano roles in musical theater. Seyfried sounds fine, but she’s not powerful enough. She lightly chirps and trills her way through the score like a songbird, but she tends to get drowned out when other people are singing with her. It doesn’t sound bad, but it doesn’t sound great either. Seyfried does a fine job, but her limited screen time and character mean that she doesn’t really stand out.
Samantha Barks plays Eponine, the daughter of the Thenardiers who is hopelessly (and one-sidedly) in love with Marius. As one of the lesser known stars in the film, Barks was picked because she had played this role numerous times before. It shows. She has this role down. She perfectly portrays Eponine’s coy friendship with Marius and her hopeless and unrequited devotion to him. Her singing is pretty, and her acting is superb. She probably understands her character the most out of anyone in the film, and turns in great, layered work because of it. It may not be the showiest role in the film, but I personally enjoyed this performance the most.
Aaron Tveit plays Enjolras, the leader of the revolutionaries. In the right hands and in the right production, Enjolras can be a real scene stealer (for proof, see the 25th anniversary concert). However, he isn’t given a lot of screentime in this production. With more things to do, I think that Tveit could have been great in this role (I know he’s capable of great things), but this movie somewhat shortchanges Enjolras. He does fine with what he has, but he’s generally unmemorable. I understand that things had to be cut for time’s sake (especially with a story as long and packed as “Les Miserables”), but it’s still a shame.
Russell Crowe plays Javert. This was almost definitely the most divisive casting choice of them all. In the end, I didn’t hate him in the role. He’s definitely the weakest singer, always sounding as though his mouth is full of cotton balls. His acting is fine, I guess, but I’ve seen Javerts that imbue him with so much more emotion, presence, and power (once again, see the 25th anniversary concert) that I was disappointed. Personally, I didn’t think that he ruined the movie or anything, but I do think that there were better casting choices that could have been made. Honestly, I liked him more than I thought I would. It does bear mentioning, though, that his renditions of Javert’s two big solos (“Stars” and “Javert’s Suicide”) are quite weak, especially when compared to the other major solos in the movie.
This movie is great to look at. The film’s main aesthetic goal was obviously to combine grand and grimy. The film succeeds in its pursuit of planned ugliness, making its cast decidedly unappealing, as they sing covered in layers of filth, blood, tears, and, at one point, literal crap. It’s an effective device to hammer home the destitution, poverty, and hopelessness of these people. These aesthetic choices also extend to the singing, in which acting and emotion is valued over sounding pretty. Almost everyone sings while crying, so pitch and lyrics are sometimes sacrificed in favor of dramatic line readings and sobs. It doesn’t sound bad, and some of the actors still manage to sound fine, but it does make listening to the music without the visual of the person acting a bit awkward. I still think that that was the right choice to make, though, considering the needs of a film versus the needs of a stage musical.
Another thing that has been quite divisive was the direction of Tom Hooper. For this film, he seemed to have two shots in his repertoire: extremely long close-ups and extremely shorts and scattered shots. The long close-ups are reserved for major solos (“I Dreamed a Dream” and most of “Valjean’s Soliloquy” are done in one continuous shot), while the short and scattered shots are meant for crowd scenes (Hooper’s goal during “At the End of the Day” seemed to be to give each citizen of France their own two millisecond close-up). It’s not terrible, but it can be, at different times, both boring and distracting. The longer shots sometimes go on too long, and the staging for them can be awkward. The shorter shots tend to be all over the place, to the point that I was sometimes confused as to what was supposed to be going on in the 27 shots that occupied the last two seconds of screen time. Some shots are great (my personal favorite is the slow motion shot of furniture falling out of windows to form the barricade), but too many are redundant or distracting. I wish that we had just gotten a bit more room in some of the shots (the aerial and panoramic shots that we do get are great, particularly when it comes to the finale) and a bit more time to breathe (Fantine dies, and, a second later, Javert has teleported into the room to kill Valjean). I understand that, with this material, there’s a lot of ground to cover in not a lot of time, but I think a few more establishing shots and couple more seconds for emotional beats would’ve done this movie some good. Once again, the direction isn’t terrible, but it is very flawed. Good direction should inform and add to what happening onscreen, not distract from it.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this movie. It’s not a perfect adaptation (I don’t know if that’s possible with this material), but I think it’s worthy of the “Les Miserables” name and legacy. There are many flaws and perplexing choices, but the good very much outweighs the bad. It is almost guaranteed to be a big player at the Oscars this year and rightfully so. This movie is worth seeing if only for the great cast and outstanding performances. I say go see it, and don’t wait one day more. (Yay! Forced musical theater humor!)
P.S. My favorite numbers were the finale reprise of "Do You Hear the People Sing" and "At the End of the Day" (I really liked the group numbers in this movie).
P.P.S. I know that more casts exist than just the 25th anniversary concert cast, but I really liked their Enjolras and Javert. Also, it's easily used as a reference point because the entire thing is on YouTube. Their Valjean is amazing, too.
P.P.P.S. I wasn't crazy about the new song. In a movie that already felt like it had a lot to get through, the new song felt unnecessary and obviously put there to give the movie a shot at the Best Original Song Oscar.
And Stuff. And Ken. You Don't Say...
Took me a minute, but Ryan Gosling's character, Holland March, (from The Nice Guys) telling his daughter,Holly, "and don't say and stuff" and him going on to play 'and Ken' in the Barbie movie is career serendipity at its peak.
If you haven't seen Gosling and Russell Crowe in The Nice Guys, it's worth a look. (Note: adult language, etc)
GLADIATOR (2000) dir. Ridley Scott
Boy Erased
Boy Erased looks like such an incredible heart breaking film.
It's good to see Joel Edgerton directing again after doing such a good job with The Gift. I'm excited to see how he has progressed as a director and how he will handle such a different project.
I'm so happy Lucas Hedges is getting leading roles that show off his acting range. The cast is amazing and will most likely all do a stellar job also having Troye Sivan is always a plus.
The trailer made me cry but also made me wish i could see the movie right now.
P.S. - I think this is gonna be a great awards contender
Russell Crowe, Rami Malek y Michael Shannon se preparan para el drama histórico de James Vanderbilt 'Nuremberg'...
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'Wildest Moments' by Jesse Ware; posted on Twitter by Russell Crowe of Gladiator and Les Misérables fame.
Reblogging this so I can read it again and again🔥🔥
Nightmare
Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader
Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff)
Word Count: 2.3k
Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted
Author’s Note: Up until now I've never posted any Maximus fanfiction because it's always just sort of been something I did for my own enjoyment, but this is one that I don't mind sharing :) @streets-in-paradise inspired me by sharing some Maximus love with me, so this is dedicated to her (and all you other wonderful people who have made Tumblr a place where I can share my passion for this wonderful man)! There's a lot of love poured into this fic, so I hope y'all enjoy it :)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
You are not surprised to learn that Maximus has nightmares. The details of his past are something you can only guess at, though he has alluded to the terrible battles and bloody escapades that haunt his memories. You also know that his refuge in your home is the first peace he has known since he was a child.
But you are not prepared for the sheer forcefulness of his first nightmare. He’s asleep next to you in bed, pale blue moonlight filtering through the window of your room, but you are awakened by his movements in the middle of the night. He’s jerking back and forth, his face twisted in a look of concentration, agony, and terror. You can’t help the fear that rises in your throat at the sight.
He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, one hand gripping the sheets tightly enough that his knuckles turn white. Blinking yourself into consciousness, your heart tightens at the sight. Even all these miles and months away from battle, still his past pursues him in dreams.
His next convulsion shakes the bed, and you instinctively reach out to him, hoping to wake him from the nightmare. It proves to be a mistake the second your hand presses onto his shoulder to shake him awake.
His eyes fly open at your touch, but it’s abundantly obvious that he is not awake, still seeing visions of whatever memory he was in a few moments ago. The look in his eyes is one of pure survival instinct, of a desperation that breaks your heart.
A split second later, you’re flat on your back, and the full weight of his body is pinning you down against the bed. You barely have time to register the shock of his swift movement before you realize that you did not wake him up. Blinded by memory, all he can see is his opponent, and the thought drives you to panic and try to wriggle out from under him.
Grinding his teeth, he grips both your wrists in his left hand and restrains them above your head effortlessly, despite your struggling. You call out his name softly, then more loudly, but still he is lost in the nightmare.
You thought you had tasted his strength before, when he’s made love to you and demonstrated how easily he can hold you in whatever position he chooses, but this situation gives you an entirely new perspective of his strength. A second after flipping you over, his right hand is around your throat, his thumb pressing into your jugular with enough force to crush it.
You’ve never been afraid of him once, but in this moment, without a single hint of recognition in his eyes and all his power focused on choking you, you are so terrified you can barely react. You can’t even use your hands to try to push him away.
Knowing that you may only have a few seconds to react, you gasp out his name as loudly as you can, the word immediately drowned out by the pressure on your throat. Your vision is fading to black a moment later, all the feeling in your hands gone from his vise-like grip.
But your strangled cry reaches past the fog of his nightmare somehow. The pressure on your throat releases, and his eyes widen suddenly, letting you know that he’s finally awake and realizing what he has been doing.
You can never forget the look in his eyes at that moment. All the terrifying forcefulness, the single-minded fierceness, the brute strength that made him such a force of nature on the battlefield — it all vanishes in a split second, dissolving into a gaze of such horror and regret that it shatters your heart instantly. You know that from this moment forward, he may never truly trust himself with you again, a thought that devastates you for him.
You can’t move for a moment, still struggling to catch your breath, and the look of horror in his eyes only increases as he pushes himself off you. He seems torn between the need to gather you in his arms and the fear of hurting you as he just did. His lips move, but no sound comes out.
You draw a ragged breath, reaching out one hand toward him desperately. “I’m all right,” is all you can manage. “I’m all right.”
You try to push yourself to a sitting position, but you find that you simply cannot, still so shaken from thinking you were about to be choked to death by the man you love, who you know would rather die than cause you any harm. His hands are trembling wildly when he reaches out to steady you.
“I didn’t know it was you,” he says, his own breathing so erratic that you wonder if he can feel your pain. “I couldn’t see you. I didn’t know it was you.”
He’s repeating himself in absolute shock, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, your neck, your arms to see what damage he’s done to you. His shaking only worsens, but he doesn’t lay a hand on you during his frantic checking over you for injuries, just lets them hover as if he’s afraid to touch you again.
You manage to sit up this time, steadying yourself with a calming breath and trying to give him a relaxed smile. “I know, I know,” you murmur, reaching out to brush your hand over his ruffled hair. He almost recoils at your touch.
“I could have killed you,” he whispers, involuntarily shifting himself to the edge of the bed away from you.
You keep running your hand lightly through his hair, determined to reassure him. “Of course not,” you promise. “You were only dreaming. It was just a dream.”
“It was just a dream,” he echoes, but not in agreement. “A dream of a battle in which I almost died. In which I killed so many men I could never count them.”
You don’t betray a single hint of fear, just scooting forward to close the distance between you. You use both hands now, framing the sides of his face as his eyes search your face desperately.
“I’m perfectly all right,” you assure him with a smile. “See? No harm done at all.”
“You don’t understand,” he insists vehemently, his voice breaking. “I could have killed you. I didn’t know it was you. I only saw my enemy and thought of killing him.”
Seeing how shaken he is, you push forward and clasp your arms around his neck to steady him. He still doesn’t touch you, doesn’t return your embrace. You can feel his whole body quaking in your arms.
“You don’t understand,” he repeats. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“I don’t need to know,” you whisper in his ear, stroking his hair rhythmically in the way he always responds to.
He actually pushes you away this time, his hands gentle on your forearms as he puts space between you again. His eyes are blazing, his face as white as your sheets. “You don’t know,” he murmurs again, dropping his hands. “I could snap your neck with one twitch of my wrist. I could break your wrists, your ribs, your spine as easily as I can hold you down.” He holds his hands up in front of you, eyes wide and haunted. “You have no idea what these hands have done.”
“I don’t care what they’ve done,” you argue, seizing his hands with yours before he can pull them away. This time, though, he doesn’t make a move to pull away, freezing in place while he watches you carefully. Slowly, intentionally, you kiss the backs of both his hands, his knuckles, his fingers, to demonstrate your words. “I know you, and I love you, no matter what you’ve done.”
He shakes his head, though his eyes drift closed at the touch of your lips on the base of his palms. “No,” he half-whispers, “no, no.” Your heart tightens seeing him so tortured, knowing that all this anguish lurks beneath his stoic exterior every day, hiding so you can’t see it. “I should never have risked you like this.”
“You’ve never risked me,” you insist. “You’ve never done anything but protect me.”
“Until tonight,” he counters sharply, his eyes flashing open and fixing on yours with his typical intensity magnified. “It only takes one time. I should never have taken the risk.”
You can read the meaning behind his words — that he thinks he can’t trust himself to sleep next to you. The thought of giving him up, especially for this reason, is utterly unacceptable to you.
“I am not afraid of you,” you tell him firmly. Your words seem to affect him, because the tension in his shoulders lessens fractionally. You kiss his hands again and again, then rest your cheek against the roughened skin that you love so much.
“You should be,” he replies softly, the severity in his voice already decreasing. You can see the waves of exhaustion and sorrow washing over him, and you reach out your arms to enfold him again. This time, he accepts your embrace, folding his arms around your waist gently and resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. His skin is burning hot against yours, his arms still trembling.
“I could never be afraid of you,” you whisper. “I could never be afraid of the man who has protected me and cherished me. You have treated me so gently, so tenderly all these months. Never once has it crossed my mind to be frightened of your strength.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, then the side of his neck. “I take pride in having the heart of a man so strong, so capable. I know you would never hurt me.”
He shifts you in his arms, lifting you slightly to align more easily against his body. You can feel the deep, shuddering breath he draws while he thinks about your words. “I would never mean to hurt you,” he replies, “but in a dream, I cannot tell the difference between memory and reality.”
“I believe you would be able to keep yourself from truly hurting me,” you reassure him, threading your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. He reacts to your touch with a hand sliding up your back to cradle you closer to his chest.
“And if I could not?” he whispers in response, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. “If I should wake and find you dead by my hand?”
You shake your head, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Any fear you felt in the moment while he was holding you down is completely gone, lost in the tender embrace he holds you in now. “I do not believe the gods would allow such a thing to happen. Not to you. Not to us.”
He releases a shaky breath, one that glides across the exposed skin of your neck. He ducks his head to press a kiss to your collarbone, letting his lips linger there in a way that makes you shiver in his arms. “I am honored by your trust.”
You smile in response, dragging your fingertips lightly down his sides, over the deep scar that slices down his ribs. “I could never trust another man on earth as I do you,” you reply. “My only fear is that I may drown in the love I see in your eyes every day.”
He kisses your collarbone again in response, then moves upward slowly, pressing his lips to the soft hollow of your throat, then the underside of your jaw at your pulse point. Lifting you up effortlessly with his hands hooked under your arms, he repositions you so that you’re straddling him.
He then rests his fingertips, feather-light this time, against the sides of your neck. He strokes his fingers over each mark they left, then presses the softest of kisses against each one. Goosebumps break over your skin at the intimacy of his actions, of the wordless apology in every touch.
He lowers his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he breathes you in. “I do not know what blind fortune allowed me to find you,” he murmurs, touching his lips softly against the corner of your mouth, “but I thank them every moment for the gift of holding you like this.”
At your affectionate smile, he finally gives you the ghost of one in return, though his eyes are still haunted. You suspect that he will retain that haunted look for some time, no matter how many reassurances you offer.
As the intensity of the last while calms, he shifts you in his arms again, cradling you gently and laying you back against the pillows. He leans up on one arm, facing you, and you reach up a hand to stroke the side of his face. His expression softens again, giving you a look of utter fondness and devotion that makes your heart melt.
He leans forward slowly, as if asking your permission, and you gladly grant it. His lips touch yours with a gentle brush, then a bit more pressure. His tongue slides across yours in the way that always sends shivers up your spine, and one of his hands reaches up to stroke your hair, the other resting lightly on your waist. He kisses you once, twice, three times, each one more tender than the last, then lets his lips linger against yours for a moment more.
“I love you,” he says softly that you barely hear it, but rather feel it against your mouth.
“I love you,” you return, “more than I can say.”
One last kiss, and he finally lays down beside you, his face mere inches from yours and his arm folded across your waist. He takes his time in going back to sleep, choosing instead to gaze at your profile in the soft moonlight, but sleep finally takes him. And when you finally close your eyes, content to sleep peacefully beside him again, it’s to the sound of his even breathing and the warmth of his protective embrace.