Confessions of a Les Miz geek

The movie just had to be great. The story meant so much to me. When I saw it for the first time, I walked out spellbound, stupefied, transported. I had never seen such a thing — the churning rhythms matched with poetic lyrics, the stirring call to freedom. And each time I returned, I found new connections, deeper resonance.

Over the years I’ve collected articles, photos, refrigerator magnets, Playbills and, in short, driven my wife crazy. Whenever I mention Les Miz, she takes on the aspect of a person who is truly miserable.

But I was worried. To tell the truth, it’s been years since I’ve seen a great production of Les Miz. The show, seen by 60 million people around the world, has flagged in my opinion. I’d come to doubt that this generation of performers had the gravitas, the talent and commitment, to take this show to the heights it deserves.

The soundtrack CD arrived at my house last Saturday. By Monday I had listened to it seven times without reaching a verdict. I wanted to listen to it with an open mind, but I couldn’t. I’ve heard this music too many times, and I have lots of favorite performers and high expectations.

In the days leading up to the movie, many of my conversations — whether about problems in Tajikistan or student-led protests around the globe — led back to Les Miz. Never mind that some of my listeners knew little about the show and could care less.

So let me cut to the chase about the film. From the opening chords of the song “Look Down” — boom, boom-boom, boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom — I began to feel the same thrill I felt seeing Les Miz for the first time.

The guy sitting next to me, Chris Knighton, an attorney from Roswell, summed it up perfectly: It’s great to see the show taken from the confines of a stage into the big wide world. The opening scene, in which lines of prisoners pull ropes to drag a storm-tossed ship into shore, announced that this production would have an epic grandeur.

From there, ex-convict Jean Valjean goes on a journey that changes his life again and again.

When a priest shows him mercy, Valjean is driven to change his world view and believe in God and goodness. After he breaks his parole, the police arrest a man they think is him, but Valjean saves the man by turning himself in. When Valjean achieves success as a factory owner, one of his workers dies and he raises her young daughter.

Jean Valjean should, I believe, be the first fictional character to receive sainthood.

But the heart of Les Miserables is Fantine, the doomed factory worker. Once a young woman filled with hope, she shows the cruelty of this world. She ends up on the street selling her hair, her teeth and even her body.

Anne Hathaway passed the test of a great Fantine: When she unveiled the character’s shattered life in “I Dreamed a Dream,” she drew tears from me and the guy sitting on the other side of me.

Twenty years after my first viewing, my reactions have changed. The deaths in the show — and there’s a boatload of them — hit me harder. Being over 50, I have a greater understanding of the longevity of death. Being a reporter, I’ve seen my share of lives that ended too young, with so much ahead. Also, the young love of Marius and Cosette seems more distant now and more delightful.

Les Miz geeks are like the fans of Bruce Springsteen, another personal obsession. We stick with them for years and years. They’re worth it, through the ups and downs, for the way they give you chills, or give voice to your beliefs, or change your life.

This thrilling cinematic tale wasn’t perfect. But for me, it worked, and the cumulative effect reminded me how much Les Miz means to me.

Watching this Alpharetta audience shed tears and applaud achieved something else: It affirmed the humanity that binds us all.

I think I’ll see it again this weekend.

----------