LES MIS: NOT OSCAR MATERIAL

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Tom Hooper’s “Les Miserables” is not a perfect film. I’m not sure it is a great film. I think a movie such as “Lincoln” is far more deserving of honors come the Oscars next month. But “Les Mis” is a wonderful movie musical, easily the most ambitious and beautifully filmed that I have seen.

As a piece of art, the movie should not be measured by its faithfulness to Victor Hugo’s famous novel, because it is not an adaptation of a book, but of Boublil and Schönberg’s 1985 rock opera. As such, it does a marvelous job of converting the emotion and energy of a live performance onto the screen. Hooper’s massive set pieces and sweeping cameras provide the kind of spectacle that stage directors struggle to portray, and his close-ups, attention to detail, and focus on the actor’s expressions make for a new level of intimacy between the performers and the audience. Hooper has been criticized for this brazen theatricality: Anthony Lane of the New Yorker wrote that  “you can’t help wondering if this shift into grandeur has confused [Hooper’s] sense of scale. The camera soars on high, the orchestra bellows, and then, whenever somebody feels a song coming on, we are hustled in close, forsaking our bird’s-eye view for that of a consultant rhinologist.” In other circumstances, he has a point. Most critics prize subtlety and clean, spare storytelling — compare Hugh Jackman’s operatic suffering with Daniel Day Lewis’ quietly brilliant (and critically acclaimed) performance as Abraham Lincoln. But since when has musical theater prized itself on subtlety? A musical works when it is entertaining and emotionally moving, and falls flat the moment that thread of energy breaks. Cue the big dance number followed by the love-lorn power ballad to win back your audience. If you find this kind of crass emotional manipulation distasteful (i.e., if you hate musicals), you will probably hate Hooper’s “Les Mis.” Just remember that a couple of other artists used swelling orchestras and tortured anthems (sorry, arias) in their storytelling, guys like Mozart and Wagner.

“Les Mis” certainly has some flaws. Russell Crowe as Javert is foremost among them. The producers must have thought that Anne Hathaway and Hugh Jackman weren’t big enough names to market the movie successfully. Why else cast someone without a voice to sing a musically difficult but beautifully written role? I think I would have been more understanding of the choice had Crowe justified it with great acting. Instead, he spends most of the movie looking like he’s tensing himself for his next high note. Hugh Jackman, although pretty solid vocally for most of the film, was also a bit rough at times, particularly in “Bring Him Home,” one of Jean Valjean’s most beautiful songs. It was a little too raw, a little too unpolished. While that does make it unlikely that I’ll ever buy the soundtrack, there are worse problems to have. Compare the general grittiness here to Joel Schumacher’s 2004 adaptation of “The Phantom of the Opera,” where everything has the slick sensuality of a music video, foregoing an emotional connection with its audience in favor of a shiny surface.

Hooper’s “Les Mis” has that emotional connection in spades. I laughed at the Thenardiers. I pitied little Cosette and Gavroche. I got goosebumps when Enjrolas died. It’s probably too rough to win, or deserve, an Oscar. But it sure is a show.

 

                         

                                                            ptimmis@hillsdale.edu