LES MIS

I really thought that after the Oscar buzz died down a little, so would the obsession over that pig-slop of a movie Les Mis, but I suppose I was wrong. Currently being sold in HMV for a bargain deal of £15.99 is the opportunity to get the most boring three hours of your life over and done with.

The main problem with Les Miserables, contemptuously dubbed 'The Glums' by critics when it first opened in the theatre, is the lack of an engaging plot, any decent music, or remotely believable acting. Russell Crowe plods after Hugh Jackman looking more and more like an obnoxious potato, whilst ‘Éponine’ is an ever-present third wheel in Eddie Redmayne and Amanda Seyfried’s romance. The actors perform with an embarrassing intensity that quickly spirals into absurdity.

The exception to the unbearably self-conscious melodrama is Anne Hathaway’s performance as the ill-fated Fantine, whose brief half-hour on screen is truly heart-breaking. However, this moment is short-lived: as the film meanders drearily on, we are offered bursts of relief in the form of Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen as a pair of lovable con artists who were given all the best lines. Gazing at Eddie Redmayne’s face can occupy you for a while, but after an hour or two even this grows tiresome. There’s no doubt that each actor had something very profound and passionate to express. It just isn't clear what. As Russell Crowe leapt off a bridge, landing with a satisfying crunch below, I almost jumped out of my seat cheering. Perhaps that's the real problem: the overwhelming well of emotion present in every trembling note makes you unable to form any connection with the characters. 

 Although it is unlikely that you haven't watched it yet, I would STRONGLY advise you NOT TO SEE THIS FILM. I am a musical aficionado: I can recite any Chicago number on the spot, and have the Cole Porter collection stashed away under my bed like porn. But what I WILL NOT STAND FOR are musicals that pretend to be insightful and thoughtful, brimming with messages of unity and righteousness, when in fact they are stories of self-pitying caricatures of people, with unrealistic objectives and negative attitudes. Give me Singin’ In The Rain over Les Mis any day. I don’t need my silliness handed to me with a straight face.