Monday, January 21, 2013
Les Misérables the stage musical (which I shall henceforth refer to with its gangsta abbrev "Les Miz").
Les Miz is my jam. I grew up listening to the soundtrack nonstop. I relish the (repetitive?) melodic themes, the moments when the rhymes don't quite work ("I am warning you Javert / I'm a stronger man by far!" --oh, Valjean). I can sing the final soprano note of "One Day More" so piercingly that all within earshot dash to their stoves to see if they've left a kettle on. I've seen the live show ten or some-odd times -- on Broadway, on tour, when my little sister played Eponine in her summer camp's epic production -- the last of which froze me in a downturned-lipped ugly-cry face for at least two weeks thereafter.
In other words: I'm a fan. Oh, I'm a fan.
So I went to the movie theater today (alone -- I'm not ashamed!) wanting to like the movie. I was prepared to weep openly. I was prepared to hum along to certain songs when the speakers were loud enough to mask it, lest someone throw me out onto the street. I was prepared to move seats several times to avoid the people who kept taking out their blindingly bright cell phones every five minutes, which was impossible, because everybody does this now?
In short, I was prepared to like it. And -- for the most part -- I did! I liked it!!!
I really did! It was not a walk in the park, but it was worth seeing!!
If you care to hear what I thought, please read on! If you don't, well, poop on you!