Singers in the Dark: Les Misérables
Despite practically growing up on musicals, a) I never got to see Les Misérables live and b) the televised/filmed productions of the seminal musical have never really struck me as deeply as, say, The Phantom of the Opera, Sweeney Todd, Company, Chicago, Cabaret, etc. Les Misérables is great, I am certainly not denying that, but it never cracked my list of “favorites”. That said, I am truly a sucker for some of the music, “On My Own” probably being my favorite. The 10th Anniversary “Dream Cast” Concert is quite lovely to behold, and thus, hearing of an actual film adaptation of the musical intrigued me. The original story, based on the novel by Victor Hugo, had been adapted to the screen a handful of times (including one with Liam Neeson), but Tom Hooper’s period spectacle would mark the first time the musical would make it to the big screen. And, because I love musicals, I was excited. Instead of getting in line for the tickets, I should have gotten in line for the guillotines.
Les Misérables tells the sad, sad tale of a bunch of people prior and during the French Student Rebellion (June 1832), and not the French Revolution (1789-1799). Included in this group of the afflicted is Jean Valjean (Hugh Jackman), a man who spent over a decade in prison for stealing bread to feed his family; Javert (Russell Crowe), the dutiful officer; and Fantine (Anne Hathaway), the poor single mother who goes to certain extremes in order to allocate money to send to the couple taking care of her daughter, Cosette (later played by Amanda Seyfried). As Jean Valjean moves up in the world under a pseudonym, the presiding officer holds a grudge and the animosity between the two ends up involving pretty much everyone else somehow or another.
The implications of a theatrical adaptation of a stage show, whether it is an actual play (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Rabbit Hole, etc.) or a musical (Cabaret, Chicago, Sweeney Todd) is to not merely paste the songs in a film like setting, but to fill in some of the holes by utilizing everything that film as a medium has to offer. Expand on character relationships, elaborate on character goals and motivations; effectively explain plot holes or context. With a musical (and its source material) that is so often incorrectly assumed to be about the French Revolution, you would think that the film adaptation would give the perfect opportunity to give more context to the time and setting of the darn thing. Alas, no. Tom Hooper, who can do period detail very well (see: Elizabeth I and John Adams from HBO), instead seems to concentrate on just seemingly cutting and pasting the singing of the stage show to a well-dressed back lot. Without that context or background, the stakes are not nearly as high and the audience, including myself, has less of a reason to care about a) the characters involved and b) the situations they are stuck in. There is no primer as to the Student Rebellion and the most we are offered are a couple lyrics sung by a dirty, if cherubic blond kid in a thick Manchester accent. He sings about the lack of change and the remaining bourgeoisie reign, but so what? That alone isn’t enough to make me care. Give me higher stakes and give me more reason. A couple lines from “ABC Café” are hardly reason enough to make us care about a Student Rebellion (who, by the way, seem too well dressed to really seem like they care about the upper class).
Part of the problem is the streamlining of the material. On stage, you have more time because you have an intermission, and those going to a musical have, generally, educated themselves enough to get the gist of things. If not, then the book or the lyrics do some of the heavy work for you. There is not as much an issue in terms of time and linearity because of the sparseness of sets and locations, but in a film, you must deal with time as a concept. Which means that as Valjean contemplates his existential identity crisis in “Who Am I?/The Trial”, in the space of three cuts, he goes from his little house to riding on horseback to the courthouse. Those three cuts take less than three seconds altogether. There is no actual travel, unless you count the split second, blink and you miss it ride on horseback. This is not limited to that one scene, but several scenes. The love story in the second half of the film looks entirely moronic because there isn’t enough time to develop Cosette and Marius’ attraction to one another. Star crossed love is romantic when the characters are allowed to revel in what they have just experienced, however brief it may be; but when it is reduced to literally ten seconds and no less than ten reverse, point of view shots, the rest of the stakes for love are dwarfed and just look stupid. In an attempt to quicken things up and make an already deathly long and poorly paced film seem shorter, some plot points are either dropped or obscured by and buried under the “let’s get through all the songs first”.
This, I suppose, is in itself a mixed bag. You have seen the ad more time than Sascha Baren Cohen’s ratty Thenardier has stolen gold pieces, and it has been something the Les Misérables have been pushing really hard: the live singing. Marketed as “the first time it’s ever been done before” is not actually true. The 1995 television adaptation of Gypsy (starring Bette Midler) featured live singing; Susan Stroman’s ill-fated screen adaptation of the Mel Brooks’ musical The Producers had live singing; and Julie Taymor’s experimental Beatles musical Across the Universe had “live singing 80% of the time” (this according to the director’s commentary on the DVD). Les Misérables only stands apart from the first two in that the live singing isn’t so much singing (not in the performing way that most musicals employ) as it is giving life to the songs. When it’s done well in the film, it can be truly visceral and moving (Anne Hathaway and Samantha Barks, for instance, nail you in the soul). When it does not work, it just seems sort of sad. While it is no surprise that Hathaway stuns with her rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream”, the songs that seemed to work best were those that featured most of the company. “At the End of the Day”, “Lovely Ladies”, “One More Day”, and “Red and Black” all had verve and life to them, which several of the other solo/character focused songs did not.
Which brings me to this – Newsflash, I don’t like Hugh Jackman’s voice. I never have. He is a lovely actor, and his voice is technically fine. But, that’s what I don’t like about it. Jackman, as much soul as he tries to put into “Valjean’s Soliloquy” and “Who Am I?” seems to be so focused on technique and placed in a situation where he has to move and where the vocals will come out imperfect, he loses the essence of the tune. It sounds professional, sure, but the wealth of vibrato works against him in a way. Russell Crowe, for all of his unpolished singing abilities, in a way, surpasses Jackman vocally because you can hear the tune. The gravelly, maybe somewhat nasally quality gives more life to the character than Crowe actually provides when he is acting. (Much like Gerard Butler in Phantom, but worse.) It probably was not the best idea to hire Crowe, due to the complexity of the music and the range it requires.
With that laborious focus on singing and period detail by Hooper (whom I still, probably unfairly, resent for winning Best Director of The King’s Speech), the story, as I said, gets left behind. Which makes it feel like the intentions were to just see the famous people performing the songs one after the other. There are maybe 10 lines of dialogue total in the film, which, for most mainstream audiences, is not anywhere near enough. Again, with the medium of film, you have the opportunity to a) make a musical more accessible to other audiences and b) expound on story, characters, etc. There was zero attempt to do this; just song after song after song. It’s not this cycle that is inherently the problem; it’s the missed opportunity to make the story more enjoyable.
Aside from singing and famous people, some very strange focus (hah) was put on the film’s cinematography. Mostly, my time was spent scoffing in the theater, writing furiously on my notepad. If you’ve heard anyone complain about the camerawork, listen to them: it is pretty much the most abhorrent work I’ve seen this year. (As random as Killing Them Softly was, at least it was nice to look at and properly framed.) There should be a meme that says “FRAME A DAMN SCENE RIGHT, HOOPER!” I’m pretty sure his logic went as follows: “Okay, you go over there and act and I’m going to have my camera right up in your face. And then I’m going to turn it on a 135-degree angle.” While I’m sure the logic behind this was to provide an intimacy in the performance that the stage inherently cannot give, it does not explain why so many of his frames were off balance. That just looks like some of the half-assed pictures some of the slackers in my photography class take, except more expensive. Also, one can certainly utilize more than one camera angle to achieve intimacy. A musical, shot in all close-ups! There’s a reason why Fred Astaire was never shot in close up: so you could still get the essence of his performance.
When Hooper is not placing cameras six inches away from his actors’ faces, he is editing like he stepped into the editing room while on cocaine. I seriously wondered while I was sitting in the film if the people from Glee were editing the film. What few nice moments and nice frames there are on screen are snatched from us with a splice. This, again, affects linearity, but the constant CUT, CUT, CUT is so uninspired and useless. It works as an antithesis to the artistic desire to achieve more intimacy in the performances. The camera work itself does not work. Shakier than some of my own camera work on my short films, there seems to be no evidence of any SteadiCam used. Just tripods and someone seemingly drunk walking around with a camera. This is not supposed to be a poor man’s Dogme 95 inspired musical! You are no Anthony Dod Mantle! The action scenes don’t work either. If there isn’t a random Dutch angle (which, as far as I can tell, has absolutely no reason to be in there), there’s a fly, swoop, and a lot of cutting involved. I guess Michael Bay would be proud.
The film’s two saving graces are Anne Hathaway and Samantha Barks. I would like to think that Hathaway ignored Hooper’s direction altogether and that her transcendent portrayal of Fantine, however short it is (not a spoiler because of the source material), was pure instinct. She gives power, emotion, and passion to a film where there is none. Her heart shattering performance of “I Dreamed a Dream” is the film’s highlight. It’s close enough to get every look of Fantine’s but far away enough so that there is distance. It’s not the camera that should destroy the distance between audience member and character; it’s the character themselves and their power. And Hathaway succeeds in spades (a little reminiscent, it has been said, of Renee Falconetti in Carl Theodore Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc). Samantha Barks, a newbie to the film world, has portrayed the gloomy, heartbroken Eponine before on stage and in the 25th Anniversary Concert of Les Misérables. Despite that, she still brings something entirely new and fresh to the film, her performance of “On My Own” absolutely splendid. I suppose, if you’re going to spend your money on the film, do it for these two girls, one of whom I wouldn’t be too mad should she win the Academy Award. Eddie Redmayne, whom I didn’t know could sing, is actually quite good as well, but the film’s inability to really dig deeper into his character and his motivations leave a lot to be desired and mar the experience.
Les Misérables is a trifle; a film that could have easily avoided its problems by reeling back its eagerness and giving the story a chance. The singing might be cool, but what’s a song without a story behind it? Les Misérables is also probably the first film whose cinematography made me actively angry in the theater. Anne Hathaway and Samantha Barks are the film’s saviors. So, while you sit in the theater for what was, for me, a nearly unbearable two and a half hours, I’m going to sing these words:
“I had a dream this film would be,
So different from this Hell I’m watching,
So different now from what it seemed.
Now Hooper’s killed the dream I dreamed.”
Far, Far Away: Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace in 3D
For someone who was so incredibly, so vehemently, so passionately dead against 3D technology, it may come as a disappointment to some of you that I’m starting to see the validity in 3D technology in film. Yes, I am slowly becoming a convert, or a hypocrite. (Insert religious joke here.) As more serious directors and auteurs try to utilize the technology to really explore depth, detail, and environment with 3D, it is becoming more and more valid. I may not love this fact, but it looks like something we will all have to accept in time. With Martin Scorsese’s Hugo, Scorsese used 3D tech to walk the fine line of gimmick and actual storytelling, having certain things pop out (probably for the kids in the audience), but also having a fully realized depth to the train station his protagonist inhabits. In Werner Herzog’s Cave of Forgotten Dreams, the German auteur used 3D to show the beauty and wonder of cave paintings in France, the 3D showing facets of the wall that are only comparable in person. With Wim Wenders’ new film Pina, the acclaimed director of Wings of Desire takes the choreography of avant-garde dance choreographer Pina Bausch and uses 3D to accentuate the sinewy details of each dancer’s body. And who could forget James Cameron’s Avatar, a film I’m sorry to say I missed in theaters. He is acknowledged to have jump started this trend, and those who saw the film in theaters know why. With all of these films, and even in the rerelease of Titanic, 3D was used to immerse and amaze, to suck you into the world of that film without strangling your vision to the point of nausea. George Lucas wants to join the likes of Cameron, Scorsese, Herzog, and Wenders, by rereleasing his iconic film saga, the Star Wars films, first off with Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace.
There’s plenty of reason to see why Lucas would do this, even without the “he’s a raging money sucker” argument so many fan boys have taken to. The Star Wars saga is amongst the most epic of all films, each film made with such a grand and extravagant scale. It’s films with these kinds of scales, that take you to other worlds and enthrall you with details and nuances, that should be, if at all, made in 3D or converted to 3D. And Lucas’ intentions are (somewhat) honorable. His intention is to, again, completely immerse you in the world of Jedi, sith, and everything in between. How does it pay off? Well.
Everyone says that The Phantom Menace is the weakest and the worst of the series, but I disagree. It has always been my personal favorite, and it was the first film I had ever seen in theaters. While its stodgy dialogue, its wooden acting, and its uneven pace are nothing to celebrate, I don’t think it’s really anything compared to the overly sappy, even more poorly acted Attack of the Clones. Anyways, the short version of the plot is that the sith reveal themselves and the Jedi (Liam Neeson and Ewan McGregor) pick up a kid on the desert planet of Tatooine. That kid, Anakin Skywalker, will turn into, spoiler alert, Darth Vader by the end of the prequel trilogy. The film, again, is not perfect, but it’s a spectacle and something fun to see on the screen. It’s notably darker than anything in the original trilogy, with a tone of melancholy, as if anyone who sees it already knows that this chapter of the saga (chapter being prequel trilogy) will not end well. But, it’s so pretty to look at. Amongst the epic films that would call out for a 3D conversion (Lawrence of Arabia, Apocalypse Now, The Lord of the Rings) Star Wars is definitely one of them. It’s easy to see why. From Tatooine to the Romanesque Theed City of Naboo, to the metropolitan Coruscant and the marshy forests of Naboo, it’s splendid to see. The clothing, the costumes, the cinematography, the CGI; everything looks great. Jar Jar Binks, no matter how annoying, was always impressive for the sheer fact that he, not Gollum, was the first full CGI character. Oh, you think I’m talking about seeing this in 3D? No, this is all in two dimensions. Flat and wonderful.
With all those reasons of depth and detail for a 3D conversion, you would think that the film would look mind blowing when actually seen on the big screen and in 3D. You would be, well, wrong. Not completely wrong, but not correct enough to warrant $10. There is so much that could have gone better here that it is a huge disappointment that I have to write what I am writing. The 3D, which looked meticulously done, was subtle. It was so subtle, it was barely even noticeable. Not to the extent where Alice in Wonderland was literally not noticeable, but it barely made a difference. Certain scenes did seem more interesting in 3D, but these were medium shots of characters, their fabric having more depth and their face with more detail. The landscape scenes, such as the overhead shots of Theed City, should have looked incredible. It’s one of the settings that should have been taken full advantage of. Instead, it looked fairly flat. No sense of place or depth anywhere discernible. Not even in the fun and exciting podrace scene was there enough 3D to make it interesting. Even though it is, arguably, one of the most fun race scenes ever caught on film, it didn’t look any better in 3D.
It feels strange to say this, but the lack of any discernible depth was a distraction in another way. Plot holes and poor acting seemed more apparent. This is perhaps because since the 3D was not distracting enough, one’s mind had to wander somewhere else. One’s mind would end up focusing on minute details that, essentially, did not matter.
I was hesitant on seeing the film when the plan to rerelease the saga in 3D was announced, because, at the time, I was a vehement anti-3D person. But, I can understand the reasons for its use, and this is from no help of having seen Star Wars. Since I am a little bit of a fan boy at heart, I was going to see it anyways. And it was a fun experience, seeing a Star Wars film on the big screen. But the 3D didn’t matter enough and was not present enough to make any sort of good impression. It was not done lazily, by any means, but it just was not done enough. Hopefully, if Lucas still plans on releasing the rest of the films, he will have enough time to tinker with them to get the 3D right. Until then, I’m sorry to say that, regardless of the 3D, I was not anymore sucked into that galaxy far, far away than I would have been just watching it on DVD.