I dreamed a dream

I was fascinated over the last month to see the mixed responses (for responses read rants) that appeared on Facebook and in the press following the release of Les Misérables.

One national criticised the costumes declaring that Russell Crowe had been given a fez to wear. It’s not a fez, it was just a hat with a tassle, and a blue hat at that. They also bemoaned the fact that the director had decided to make the film ‘like an opera’ with no dialogue. Oh dear, perhaps they should have seen the stage version to see that in the original stage musical there is no dialogue, as they say in the business “It’s through-sung”. Silly mistakes that made them look pretty silly too.
On Facebook it was love or hate. I loved it myself but then I loved the show, having seen it 12 times – so far. One person said that it might have been alright if they’d got rid of all the songs and warbling. Now how would that work? It’s a musical, it’s all about the songs and ‘warbling’! Cut them and you just have the titles and the credits. Well, that’s not what I call entertainment!

If you’re no lover of musical theatre, then why go and see a film musical? I’m not saying that everyone should like it, far from it. As much as I loved it, I thought it had faults, none more scary then the number of close up nostril shots. I guess it’s about expectations and if you don’t like musicals why would expect to like this one.

What it did need more than ever was an interval. At over three hours Les Misérables is a truly miserable experience if you either suffer from a weak bladder or are sitting next to someone who suffers from a weak bladder. I seemed to be surrounded by the seriously incontinent. Of course, much of that would be due to the consumption of gigantic waxed cups of fizzy drinks. How big are they? Does anyone need to consume over a litre of pop during a film screening? Maybe they do to lubricate the half ton of popped corn?

I vote for a return to intervals in long films. Those who need to pee can pee, those who need a second drink can buy one and the cinema can reap the profits.

“It’s a musical, it’s all about the songs and ‘warbling’! Cut them and you just have the titles and the credits. Well, that’s not what I call entertainment!”

When The Sound Of Music was released it not only had an interval, it has a special piece of music composed for the occasion. The “Entr’acte” was an instrumental, consisting of ‘I Have Confidence’, ‘So Long, Farewell’, ‘Do-Re-Mi’, ‘Something Good’ and ‘The Sound of Music’ and it gave everyone a chance to have a sing-along or to ablute.

Theatre producers and opera houses should also take note. I once had a close shave at the Colliseum in a performance of Aida. Several acts had been strung together and the run up to the final curtain was a rather tense affair not created by the production but by a strained bladder. Funnily enough I managed to sit for five hours through Philip Glass’ Einstein On The Beach without any need to absent myself. In part I will admit that I drank nothing for several hours in preparation as I was terrified of missing anything of this seldom performed work – and I was glad I did.

The attention span of your average audience member is shrinking by the minute. The stop, pause and rewind society that I predicted many years ago seems here to stay and gives rise to grumpy old gits like me who get cross at the mere rustle of a sweet wrapper or rattle of ice in a plastic cup. Even with shows that run at the optimum “fringe” length of around an hour seem too much for some people to endure. Perhaps TV is the only solution, bite-sized nuggets of popular entertainment punctuated by sponsor idents and insane ads. Maybe not, maybe I just need to ignore the interruptions and learn how to focus through a cacophony of noisy snacks and the weak of bladder.