Les Miserables Review

My name is Clayton Walter, and I am a movie crier.  This becomes especially clear this time of year, when I pop It's a Wonderful Life and devolve into an ugly, sputtering pile of holiday cheer by the time the film reaches its impossibly happy end.  It's one of the reasons I love watching movies: I go into a theater or pop in a DVD at home completely ready and excited to surrender to the story about to unfold, hoping to find that weird connection that leaves one wondering, "What happened next?"  Of course, nothing happens next, but it's the power of cinema to transport the viewer so completely into another world for a while, that for that two hour period, the characters onscreen are more real than the room in which one is watching them.

From the release of the first trailer for Les Miserables, I knew I was going to be in trouble when I got to see the movie in all its grandeur on the big screen.  Not only am I a movie crier; I'm also a sucker for musicals.  No genre consistently satisfies me so completely, dating back to the animated Disney fare of my childhood and my exposure to The Sound of Music in the first grade, which led to my first celebrity crush (Julie Andrews, a crush I still pine for to this day).  My familiarity with Les Miserables was passing at best going into the movie, having been given the soundtrack by an ex-girlfriend (who proudly claims responsibility for my excitement for the film adaptation), which I listened to thoroughly, but without context.

Thus, while some of the film's beats were well-known to me, I came into the film pretty inexperienced, a semi-novice.  There's been some debate about what sector of the movie-going audience is most likely to enjoy the movie: the superfans or the uninitiated.  The way I see it, if you're willing to give yourself over to Tom Hooper's unique take on the play, your experience with the show hardly matters.

Like seeing The Hobbit in 48 fps, seeing Les Miserables has something of a learning curve.  Musicals have a certain visual vocabulary, an aesthetic expectation that, generally, relies on the actor's use of his entire body.  This is obviously true when one goes to an actual theater, squinting from the balcony and reading more emotion in the actors' movements and posture than in the nuances of their facial expressions.  Even in film musicals, there's usually an emphasis on movement, especially in the big show-stopping dance numbers.  Busby Berkely musicals aren't revered for the great performances, but the visual splendor of their kaleidoscopic musical numbers.

Tom Hooper tackles his material with a different visual emphasis, which makes his version of Les Miserables the version that you could never see on stage.  Hooper brings the audience in close with his actors, to varying degrees of effectiveness.  It's strange, sometimes off-putting, sometimes thrilling to watch a musical almost completely in close-up, watching the actors work their asses off not by gallivanting around the stage but by connecting with the material much more viscerally than one is used to seeing.  This is largely (maybe completely?) because Hooper had his cast perform their songs live, rather than lip-synching to pre-recorded tracks.  This allows his impressive cast to achieve a raw emotionality that is often heart-breaking.  These aren't finely polished, autotuned performances; these are actors belting in all sorts of horrific conditions (often drenched), connecting with their material as they would on the stage.  And instead of holding up their binoculars from the back of the house, every member of the audience gets a closer-than-front-row seat.

While it's a unique approach to filming a musical, the cinematography is also the film's most infuriating element.  Certain numbers deserve, perhaps even demand, the extended close-ups Hooper so often employs.  Anne Hathaway's devastating "I Dreamed a Dream" unfolds in a single take, displaying a young actress at the peak of her talent; similarly, the wonderful Samantha Barks gets to sing through "On My Own" without an edit.  These scenes are two of the film's best, though when similar technical tactics are brandished elsewhere, the results vary.  Focusing too much on the actors' faces sometimes detracts from how beautiful the film is.  The production design, make-up, and costuming are all exquisite, but sometimes the extreme camera angles had me wishing I could peer around Hugh Jackman's gorgeous face to get a better look at the world around him.  More infuriating is Hooper's trademark far-left/far-right framing of characters, which he used in The King's Speech and now in Les Miserables to suggest characters at odds with each other; it's an obvious, clumsy, ugly technique.

The editing is problematic at times, too, with come strangely frenetic cutting interrupting what is otherwise a smoothly edited film.  The jarring cuts usually pop up during big group numbers, such as "One Day More," when there are many characters singing in multiple locations, and Tom Hooper wants to make sure you see every single one of them every single moment.  It's especially disappointing in that number, because it's so well-performed.

While the cinematography and editing are irksome at times, and downright distracting at others, they are largely compensated for by the incredible performances by the cast.  Hugh Jackman is beloved on Broadway, a Tony winner, but he's never gotten that sort of widespread love and respect in Hollywood, despite having such range and delivering some stellar performances over the year (the best of which remains his work in Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain).  Jackman finally gets the part that gives his virtuosic talent the platform it deserves; he's heart-breaking as former convict Jean Valjean, a man who gets a second chance at life after betraying the first person to show him kindness.  Jackman has a lovely voice, and he throws himself completely into the role.  He embodies Valjean completely, in face and voice, movement and posture, giving the most fully realized turn in the film.

Anne Hathaway has been considered a front-runner for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar since the trailer first appeared, and it seems likely even now that she's destined for a win.  Hathaway has very limited screentime, but she does such heart-breaking work it's impossible to ignore her.  Her "I Dreamed a Dream" is a true show-stopper, making me wish I had been in one of those theaters where people burst into applause during a movie, which is rarely a state of affairs I hope to find myself in.

Les Miserables' MVPs are Eddie Redmayne and Aaron Tveit as Marius and Enjorlas, respectively, the student leaders of the revolution.  Tveit, a Broadway veteran (I was fortunate enough to see him in Rent a few years ago), has the best voice in the cast, and makes "Red and Black" the film's most rousing number (it's also the number that is perhaps filmed in the most "normal" style).  Redmayne gets to pull double duty as the film's romantic hero, and the young actor shines in every scene.  He brims with torn enthusiasm, devoted both to the girl he wants to live for and the cause he is willing to die for, and when Redmayne takes on "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables," there's a hopelessness, a sense of being left behind, a power to Redmayne's performance that gave me chills.  It's a star performance that will hopefully net the actor much more work in the years to come.

Every chain must have its weak link, and Russell Crowe gets that dubious honor here.  Crowe's singing ranges from ugly grunting to serviceable; he rarely stoops to Pierce Brosnan's level in Mamma Mia!, but he doesn't have the range or control of his co-stars.  The bigger problem is Crowe's utter lack of facial expression, which is a big problem in a movie brimming with close-ups.  Perhaps he had to concentrate more on the music than his costars, but whatever the reason, it's inexcusable.  Notably, Crowe's scenes seemed to have the greatest shot variety, perhaps because in the editing room, his lack of acting became glaringly obvious.

Like any musical, Les Miserables is bound to be divisive, and this one even more so, with its daring live singing and unique stylistic approach.  For me, it's hard to imagine the film being better.  Even its missteps add to the overall texture of the film; being shot in a more generic musical style would be a disservice; a show as big and beloved as Les Miserables deserves something special in its transition to the screen, for better or for worse.  Luckily, in the case of Tom Hooper's Les Miserables, it's mostly for the better.