Les Misérables (12A)

You see, the conversation went something  like this:

"You know what would make Les Mis even better?"
 
"Better? Better than what?"

"Better than it is already."

"But it's already a smash-hit stage show. It's so big it's name gets abbreviated. Like J Lo. Les Mis is the J Lo of stage shows."

"Yeah - but imagine if it was on the big screen! Imagine the stage show on film!"

"But we can do that anytime we want. Cinemas show all sorts of shows and events live on the big screen now - all we'd have to do is set the cameras up, pick a date, and bam. Les Mis on the big screen. Done."

"Not the same. We need to do a proper film version of the stage show."

"So, a film dramatisation of the stage show of the book?"

"No, that would be stupid! We take the stage show, and film it. As a film. Songs, costumes, everything. It'll be amazing!"

There was only one problem with the plan. As Blackadder would say, it was bollocks.

You see, on stage, the tale of struggle, redemption, love, loss, revolution and marriage works. The millions of bums on seats over the years proves that.

But on film, what you get is the tale of France's only cop, Javert (Russell Crowe), who gets flummoxed by Valjean (Hugh Jackman), a man who simply has a shave and changes his hat.
While singing.

And it's the singing that's the problem.

It's not that it's bad - it isn't. Anne Hathaway manages to crush any memory of Susan Boyle, Russell Crowe and Hugh Jackman both acquit themselves well, it's all good.

It just seems that everyone got so hung up on the fact they wanted the cast to sing live (and, rumour has it, they do. Keep an ear out. It may come up in interviews) that they forgot the bit about actually making a cohesive movie.

We leap across the years with nothing more to show us the changes than on-screen captions and a slightly greyer Jean Valjean  and the gradual promotion of Javert. Scenes such as the fight on the barricades are a mess, with no clear focal point on the action as the camera sweeps about and the editor gets randomly busy with his scissors. It makes the opening sequence of Quantum Of Solace look focused and slow-paced.

And the pacing is another issue. This film drags to such an extent it makes The Hobbit feel like an episode of Family Guy (plus side to stage version - you get an intermission).

All that said, there are some positives.

Jackman holds the show brilliantly, conveying the necessary angst and suffering of a bread thief made good. The Oscar-nominated Hathaway proves her versatility, Crowe's accent manages to stay in one place, Amanda Seyfried and Eddie Redmayne convince as a couple who fall in love after the briefest of duets (hey, we've all been there) - but somehow the whole thing doesn't quite hang together.

There are brief song-and-dance moments that seem to have been flung in just 'cos that's what you would do on stage. And while Sacha Baron Cohen and Helen Bonham-Carter certainly lighten the mood when on-screen, you're left wondering why the cast of Sweeney Todd have chosen revolutionary France for their holidays.

The problem, for me, is I'm not sure Tom Hooper knew what sort of film he was going for.

There are artily-framed shots straight from his last venture, The King's Speech, running alongside close-up camera work that would be more at home in a Danny Boyle movie (SBC and HBC getting the boot at the wedding particularly springs to mind), neither of which seem to gel with the more sweeping vistas of the early scenes. And doesn't he love a pointless close-up.

Like those suffering in the ghettos, the end came as a welcome relief. After what seemed like days, I sat there watching Jackman wade through the shit and waste of Paris thinking 'I know how you feel mate'.

One for the fans.