One amusing BBC journalist referred to Les Miserables as "schlock and awe", which almost made me want to go see it. I also never saw the musical, but I do have some vague knowledge of the Victor Hugo novel upon which all this was based (and no, I didn't read the 1900 page French novel either, so don't ask). I'm pretty sure I don't have the stomach to spend 2 hours and 38 minutes of my life watching French suffering, portrayed by Australian, American and English actors, no less read one of the longest books ever written on this or any other subject. And why should I? Apparently critics panned the book at the time it came out as much as they did the theatrical version which debuted in the 80's.
So why is this whole Les Mis franchise such a success? Because really, what better way is there to distract ourselves from our own misery than to focus on the misery of others? What's more therapeutic than watching miserable (but beautiful) people in another time, and another place, with a much more dramatic kind of misery; the kind which prompts you to sing publicly just to express your anguish, rather than doing so in the hopes of receiving Youtube hits or Facebook likes? And let's face it, for 5 years now the economy has been a real stinker, so It's comforting to think of people who are much more miserable than you.
Come to think of it, when the British musical first hit broadway in 1987 times weren't so great either, from what I remember. That was the year of the massive stock market crash. I think I'm onto something. Miserable times call for miserable musicals?
I also don't think I can see the movie because watching Wolverine sing is too weird. Continuing our Marvel theme from the last post, Hugh Jackman (for those of you who don't have a 7 yr old son obsessed with all things Marvel), is most well known in my home as Wolverine in the X-Men. If my son sees Wolverine singing a sappy ballad there will be misery in my house (probably mine).
And then there's my skepticism about being able to suspend my disbelief that these beautiful, really well known actors, are not just being paid millions to act miserable. Am I supposed to forget that pic of Anne Hathaway skiing in Switzerland with Valentino last week? Not sure I can do it.
So yes, watching a completely exaggerated caricature of human suffering is indeed cathartic, and thinking of other people suffering in a far away place and time removes you from identifying too personally. And being able to make fun of the wealthy actors playing these rolls is probably also therapeutic somehow (I'll have to ask my mom about that one --- she's a shrink).
It's depressing to see so many empty stores in Beverly Hills these days. Why are those business owners not out in the streets singing? What about their landlords? What about the homeowners who are hopelessly underwater with their mortgages or the folks who've been sold expensive insurance policies in a dubious scheme to pay for college? And are they really the miserable people of our day, or are the movie goers who just shelled out some obscene price for tickets and popcorn (not to mention parking and babysitting) to have to sit and watch beautiful rich people sing about their misery for two and a half hours? I want to sing a song for them.
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