Les Misérables

Look out at the Toulon dock on the right day in 1815 and you shall see a magnificent sight: a monster sailing ship being dragged to dry land by ropes exhaustively heaved by a raggedy chain gang who are thrashed by waves as they sing a song of slavery. This is the big opening to Tom Hooper’s epic musical “Les Misérables,” and it’s as perfect an introduction as one could possibly concoct: staggering in its weight and colossal in scale, the vast war vessel is like the film itself, if a little less melodious, while the prisoners’ grumbled rendition of “Look Down” is, like most of the upcoming numbers, less merry than it is appropriately miserable.

And in a curiously rhythmic discussion between pitiless prison guard Javert (Russell Crowe, “The Man with the Iron Fists”) and prisoner 24601, aka Jean Valjean (Hugh Jackman, “Real Steel”), we are given a succulent sampling of the uniquely authentic musical stylings that are in store: as Javert explains the terms of Valjean’s release after 19 years of hard labour (for the minor offense of stealing a loaf of bread to feed his starving niece) and Valjean pleads in vain to be treated like a fellow human being, the two sing their conversation, belting out each syllable with operatic, vein-popping force, a trait carried on for the entirety of this sprawling musical juggernaut.

Based on Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg’s enduring stage musical, which was itself taken from Victor Hugo’s classic 1862 novel, Hooper’s follow-up to his Best Picture-crowned drama “The King’s Speech,” while bigger and bolder than that 2010 Brit hit, is another unashamed crowd-pleaser, but for wholly different reasons. For while “The King’s Speech” charmed worldwide audiences with its real-life tale of triumph against the odds, “Les Misérables” wows with its grand assemblage of soul-baring solos and rip-roaring duets. Viewers will be hard-pressed to drive home from the theatre without a tune in their heart, or at the very least a verse or two stuck in their head.

The film tells a stirring story of love, hope, freedom and rebellion set against the turbulent backdrop of post-revolution France. Granted parole, Valjean is faced with prejudice as an ex-con in Digne, refused food and shelter by those he begs. Given a generous gift of silverware by a kindly bishop (which he initially steals in desperation), he breaks his parole and vows to reinvent himself as an honest man in the town of Montreuil-sur-Mer, where, under a new identity, he becomes the respected owner of a prosperous factory and is promptly elected mayor.

But when he catches the watchful gaze of a suspicious Javert, who can’t help but spot an uncanny resemblance between the mayor and prisoner 24601, Valjean finds himself on the verge of exposure and at risk of incarceration. Valjean goes on the run once again, setting in motion a nine-year pursuit and taking with him the young Cosette (Isabelle Allen), the newly orphaned, illegitimate daughter of an employee whom he did wrong and rescued before her untimely death. As they hide together in Paris, with Valjean raising Cosette as if she were his own, talk of an anti-monarchal uprising bubbles among the poor and the squalid in the back alleys of the French capital.

It was feared by many that Hooper, with just three relatively small-scale features under his belt, would be unable to marshal the epic scope and breathtaking grandeur required for such a large-scale production. And while his direction here is a little one-note, rarely diverging from shallow-focused close-ups and sweeping, digitally enhanced establishing shots, what he has presented us with is a production as magnificent as British cinema has ever seen: a £40 million spectacle of soaring Parisian cityscapes, waving French flags and chanting revolutionary crowds, “Les Misérables" is a marvellous sight to behold, with Hooper and cinematographer Danny Cohen keeping matters looking more cinematic than stage-bound.

Hooper and his cast must be commended for their bravery in having the vocals of each musical number (of which there are many) recorded live on-set. It’s the first film since the disastrous 1975 Burt Reynolds/Cybill Shepherd rom-com “At Long Last Love” to attempt such a feat, and it lends each number with a rawness and an intensity that’s missing in its more polished Hollywood counterparts (in which the vocals are mimed on-set and lip-synched afterwards in a sound booth). Certain lyrics are strained and some high notes are wobbly, the result much more natural and dramatic than what is expected from the industry standard; heck, don’t be too surprised if this becomes the new industry standard.

Jackman, known as a song and dance man, sturdily holds a tune as he performs down to his very bones as a brutalised ex-con on a quest for redemption. In his delivery of “Valjean’s Soliloquy,” he displays astonishing emotional complexity, transforming in mere minutes from a bitter, feral thief to a man of great trust and affection, granted a second chance and a newfound faith in God. His 17-year game of cat and mouse with Javert makes for compelling viewing, particularly because Crowe depicts the ruthless lawman as a human being: alongside his booming voice and Terminator-like determination is a conflict between an emerging conscience and a rigid code of ethics that, in the third act, begins to quake and crumble.

They are supported by a great ensemble. Playing Cosette as a child and a young woman, respectively, Isabelle Allen and Amanda Seyfried (“Red Riding Hood”) both appear to emit a heavenly glow. Eddie Redmayne (“My Week with Marilyn”) charms as the courageous revolutionary Marius, whose first glimpse of the teenage Cosette sparks first love, while Samantha Barks is heart-breaking as the tragic figure whose unrequited love for Marius proves her downfall. Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen, so good in Tim Burton’s “Sweeney Todd,” provide side-splitting, panto-style comic relief as a grotesque innkeeper couple who pickpocket their guests and are essentially the Ugly Sisters of the show.

But the real stand-out here is the rightly celebrated Anne Hathaway (“The Dark Knight Rises") as Cosette’s birth mother, the frail Fantine, a worker in Valjean’s factory who, when thrown out into the street with not a single franc to her name, sells her beautiful brown locks, has her back teeth torn from their roots and turns to prostitution. Appearing on-screen for no more than 20 minutes, Hathaway steals the show and our hearts as she belts out the iconic “I Dreamed a Dream" in an unbroken, unflattering close-up, tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice breaking, her passion earth-shattering. There will surely be riots in Hollywood’s Dolby Theatre if she doesn’t win that trophy on Oscar night.

And there shouldn’t be a dry eye in the house during Hathaway’s big number, nor indeed for the remainder of “Les Misérables." During its exhausting 157-minute length, Hooper’s sprawling fourth feature will prove itself a draining venture for many, both emotionally and physically, as they are drowned in a towering tsunami of melodies and melodrama. The emotional wallop of this thing is catastrophic and the riveting numbers will echo through the hallways of your brain for weeks to come. Can you hear the people sing? I know I can.

9/10