Les Miserables (Review)

[Credit]

Greetings one, greetings all!

Tom Hooper's Les Miserables was the film that I had most eagerly anticipated this Christmas, and I am sorry to say that this epic melodrama is a disappointment. Some may even call it a major disappointment, but I shall not for fear of overstating. 

This film is good, but with the director's track record, including the marvelously grand yet intimately passionate The King's Speech, and a supposedly stellar cast - the film is expected to be nothing short of Great. If you are to create a hype of hysteric proportions, then you are to live up to such hype - falling short is feeble. As such, this film becomes one that is either loved or hated. For me, there are many elements that I cherish, but the big picture, whilst picturesque, is neither compelling nor involving.

 [Credit]

Anne Hathaway is the film's shining star; her raw, gritty and pain-ridden rendition of I dreamed a dream is most simply perfect. Her portrayal of Fantine is superbly nuanced; she is entirely believable as a woman pushed into a dire and desperate corner of life. Her circumstances are hopeless, and she is hateful, but the vulnerability in her eyes hint a subtle sweetness that has been so forcefully robbed. Unlike many of her fellow cast-mates, Hathaway is able to draw the audience's empathy - keeping us emotionally involved and interested. This is a passionate performance deserving of an Oscar nod.

[Credit]

Samantha Barks is another undeniably bright spot; she has portrayed Eponine on Broadway, and here she does it again with gusto and perfect pitch. When she sings On My Own in the pouring rain, we see a stubborn and somewhat naive young girl hopelessly in love; such sentiment can be sickening, however, we  empathise with the despair shown in her eyes and mourn for her unrequited passion; she can only ever love him on her own. A great scene in the rain is never tired - the pathetic fallacy is only pathetic when the tears are unnecessary.

[Credit]

Eddie Redmayne, who was wonderfully convincing and likable as Marilyn's love-struck beau in My Week With Marilyn, brings yet another respectable performance. His deep, strong voice and twinkling eyes do him credit; his solo near the film's denouement is both captivating and heart-wrenching. This number captures the noble spirit of sacrifice and bravery of the men and women whose blood dyed the streets of Paris during the inhumane French Revolution. Unfortunately, the overly condensed plot does not allow this character to become three-dimensional; what we adore are but shades of a great character.

[Credit]

Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen are magnificently realised as the tricksters; the film's comic relief gives true insight to the harshness of life in the Parisian slums; they dress up and they dress down, because being themselves provides absolutely nothing. Carter and Cohen know that as they nail the slapstick into our heads, their message -although delivered in stylishly hilarious fashion- is painted with greater clarity. It truly is a dog eat dog world out there, which is why we must escape to the theatre now and again!

[Credit]

Apart from touching performances from a few child stars, the delivery of the other cast members fell short so I shan't utilise much more of your time.  

Hugh Jackman is interesting when he is off-pitch as a thief in the night, a dog on the run, but after his soul is redeemed and he morphs into a saintly mayor, the intrigue slowly wafts and eventually vanishes. Russell Crowe *sigh* has a character who is entirely convicted to his cause, I say convicted because his life is chained to it. Yet his eyes are unable to draw any empathy from me, and that is a sign of an unfulfilled delivery.

[Credit]

The love story between Marius (Redmayne) and Cosette (Amanda Seyfried), not pronounced corset - her mother, Fantine, was not a prostitute by choice - is rushed, thinly scripted and unbelievable. It also distracts us from the emotional aftermath of the barricade massacre; I assure you, neither Seyfried's smile nor her voice could awaken a man from deep, dark depression. This love story is supposed to be the life-blood of the film - the stream that delivers us to a serene and satisfying ending. However, if the audience is emotionally detached and oblivious to this union, then the sole of the film has crumpled and all we have are fragments of greatness.

[Credit]

 Tom Hooper gives the actors, especially Hugh Jackman, effective close-ups, and is able to capture the grandness of the French Revolution and the brutality of the consequential blood-shed. Even so, he is unable to accentuate and connect the human tragedies that are the seams and soul of this story. Dissimilar to great musical films such as Moulin Rouge! and Chicago!, Les Miserables lacks pizzazz, flair, and a warm, beating heart. I commend Hooper for his effort in constructing a dark, grim and gritty musical, but it seems that execution has fallen short of his ambition. His heightened sense of realism, reflected in the authentically marvelous cinematography and set-design, has somehow acted as a veil - barring the audience from peering into this intricate abyss.

P.S. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

I dedicate this to Amy, because she inspired the corset and pathetic fallacy jabs, and the person who went to see the film with me; with them, hopefully, I shall not become one of Les Miserables.