#javert discussion

[for-the-love-of-javert]

Javert fans, don't bite me for this, but........

I came across a post on tumblr this evening from a mental health blog and the details of the post got me thinking about Javert, his personality and they way he chose to live his life. As someone who is studying mental health with plans to eventually become a counsellor/psychotherpist I found it interesting and I'm wondering what other Javert lovers think of this idea.

I know Javert is a fictional character but I think this could be an interesting discussion subject. Also it seems less harmful imo to speculate about a fictional character than a real person. Do any of you think it's likely that Javert had Schizoid Personality Disorder?

I'm not sure and haven't researched into whether or not this would have been a thing back in the late 1700's/1800's. I just wanted to ask you guys what you thought of this idea. There was just something in the info about SPD that made sense to me when it comes to Javert and his isolated life away from his work, the fact that he had no real friends, no family and so on.

[secretmellowblog]

Talking about Les Mis with fellow hyperfixated Tumblr mutuals VS talking about Les Mis with literally anyone else on the internet:

[anglerflsh]

La natura sta sguarendo and I'm channeling the frantic pacing into drawing

[lemongrad]

When you finally learn that human nature is not fixed and can in fact change for the better, do you accept this fact and strive to become a positive impact on the world around you, or do you jump off a bridge about it?

[granhairdo]

im gonna take a day out of my weekend to hunt for my junior high les mis club poster

[dramaticpandabear]

Low key, Crosshair is giving me Javert vibes.

[ineffable-gallimaufry]

i JUST realized that s-486 lambda and starline are actually just a variation on my favorite rarepair again but weird fuck

[sarahreesbrennan]

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. I prefer to leave my anons open since not everyone has a tumblr, as @neil-gaiman says it’s an internet backwater, but a lovely one for those like myself who enjoy an essay about fictional characters! Still I will close my inbox to anons if I must. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

[bogusbyron]

Drop the post-Seine headcanons i dare you

(because i would love to read them)

Right so i was thinking about michael ball yesterday and his javert (ive been a fan of michael ball for a little while now so im biased and i like him, sorry to the haters but i do) an it gor me thinking abt a javert more aligned with His physique and i thought well. i already hc valjean puts on weight in MsurM because he comes into money and can afford to feed himself (he's known malnourishment and starvation, im sure he'd keep himself well-fed - not with huge banquets just with decent food. he's already a broad build because of his muscles but adding onto it definitely gives him that advantage just in case javert tried to overpower him. lol.) i also hc cosette to gain some weight after they move to paris... so i thought.. hey. surely valjean would be nagging at javert to keep his energy up and eat post-seine, especially after he's recovered and out and about .

I dont think he'd put on substantial weight immediately . i think it'd take him a while, probably once he's finally comfortable with everything, which is likely after he & valjean decide to make things official .

I also just like the idea of his hair getting greyer over that span of time. (i dont know how long exactly as im very bad at conceptualising time in my head LMFAO.) ..............and he grows his whiskers out. i love the idea of javert getting a job as like a librarian or something and the image of librarian javert with those huge grey whiskers is just too perfect an opportunity to pass up .

i'll probably end up making tweaks to this because so far this is all just from my own noggin and havent actually discussed with anyone so feel free to leave opinions or whatever i'd love to hear other people's headcanons .

[pilferingapples]

is it true that javert's long hair in nearly every production of the musical is historically inaccurate?

It's true! By the 1820s-1830s, long hair on men was not considered respectable. You'll see it still in art--but that art is mostly either about other eras or about other artists , and artists have often tended to be Not Respectable.

So yeah- Jehan Prouvaire, Romantic and revolutionary, might have long hair; Gavroche, homeless and uncared for, might have long hair; Javert, conformist authoritarian, never. HOWEVER, I must mention this in all Javert appearance discussions, he does canonically have emo bangs:

As for the rest, he had very little skull and a great deal of jaw; his hair concealed his forehead and fell over his eyebrows... (from 1.5.5, Hapgood translation)

so it's not like he's canonically wearing a buzzcut either XD

[secretmellowblog]

After the National Guard successfully suppresses a rebellion, there is relief among the ruling class; they exhale and breathe freely again; and then, they turn from crushing those who attack to crushing those who flee. They turn from attacking barricades to attacking safehouses. The police are sent out in full force. The military occupies the city. Spies hunt for the dens of rebels, like hunting dogs for the dens of foxes. All the government’s forces fly out in pursuit of one object: that object is not the defeat of its enemies, as they have already been defeated; it pursues their annihilation. 

Chapter 2 of "Annoyances," a tragicomic fic about a badly wounded Jean Valjean and Javert struggling to force each other to walk back to Rue de l'Homme Arme No. 7 before they're both arrested, is now out! The new chapter is titled "Phantoms of a Barricade Which May or May Not Actually Be Dead."

Thanks to @fremedon for beta reading, and to @alicedrawslesmis and @pilferingapples for the original post/reblogs that inspired this.

[conundrumoftime]

Been thinking about Galadriel and Sauron again

So intrigued by what their exchange on the raft in episode 8 says about where their story's going. I have seen lots of discussion about whether Sauron is genuinely repentant here, but what fascinates me is Galadriel's view that it wouldn't matter anyway.

"When Morgoth was defeated, it was as if a great, clenched fist had released its grasp from my neck. And in the stillness of that first sunrise, I felt the light of the One again. And I knew if ever I was to be forgiven, that I had to heal everything that I had helped ruin."

"No penance could ever erase the evil you have done."

This isn't "you're lying" or "I have read LOTR and know where you end up" or "your decision to impersonate my brother undermines you a bit on this one" - that is "what you have done is too bad for you to ever come back from it and forgiveness is beyond you now."

This sets her up as a very Javert-like figure, in her view of the criminal she's chasing as beyond redemption. Javert in the Les Mis musical: "Those who follow the path of the righteous, shall have their reward / And if they fall as Lucifer fell / The flame, the sword!"

Compare with Gandalf re Gollum, when Frodo says that he deserves to be killed: "Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement [...] I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it."

And Tolkien on Sauron: "He had gone the way of all tyrants: beginning well, at least on the level that while desiring to order all things according to his own wisdom he still at first considered the (economic) well-being of other inhabitants of the Earth."

Even LOTR Sauron's offered a chance, by the heralds led by Gandalf: "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then for ever."

I don't think the narrative in TROP tries to present Galadriel as correct. She clearly believes in repentance & forgiveness for others, including 'Halbrand' who had done evil; and even he says so on the raft ("that is not what you believe!"). It's Sauron-specific rage and grief.

So what I think the show will do is:

show Sauron as 'genuine' in that he thinks he is doing the right thing, and his fall into Dark Lord-ness as a series of active choices he makes in an "ends justify the means" or "I know best for everyone" logic;

and Galadriel as continuing to work against him while - somehow? - coming to terms with the idea that he *could* choose that different path; that it's not totally out of his reach; that he still could, at any point, in any of what's to come.

and given how much TROP likes mirroring and echoing, probably bringing back a few of their earlier lines in a different context: "no peace for you except that which lies across the sea", but in a 'go back to Valinor' sense; "be free of it"/"never believed I could be"?

I do find it a bit disappointing that so much discussion on Galadriel's character arc is "will she chill out and stop being mean, yes/no" when there's something much more interesting going on here! (can't think why she gets this and male characters don't...)

[b-dubs-valdubs]

the amazing supercool @bogusbyron and i have just finished collaborating on a fic :3!!!!!!! check it out on ao3, or under the cut!!!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56217544

Title: Valvert Kiss Proposition That I Got Far Too Carried Away With, or, awesomecool collab

Word Count: 2,575

Relationships: Javert/Valjean

Tags: Canon Era, On The Barricade, Choking, (non sexual but you can read it however you like), Rough Kissing, Homoeroticism, Hate Kissing, is that a thing?, Javert Was Probably Into That, Valjean Is Conflicted, Brick-Adjacent Dialogue, Musical-Adjacent Events, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, i guess

Summary: When emotions are running high at the Barricade, people ahve a tendency to lash out mindlessly.

~~~

Javert made no move to acknowledge the sound of the door opening behind him — he had not the last few times, and he would not this time, either. The students frequently came and went, picking up the supplies they had stashed in the tavern, not acknowledging their prisoner. Occasionally he could feel a glare burning into the back of his head, but most of the time he knew they were far too distracted with the matters outside to worry themselves with the old spy they had tied to the table.

It was the same when he heard several of them file in and begin discussing their plans and revising what resources they still had left; the integrity of their barricades across the city, with the rebellion still lighting the streets with musket-fire and smoke, like a thick bonfire.

Javert listened. He knew he would not be likely to make it out alive, but what else had he to do in the meantime? If, by some gargantuan miracle, he did escape, the information might be useful; so he listened.

There wasn’t much to be said, but it sounded like Javert should not hold out much hope. It was likely he would be shot in the coming days after the barricade fell.

Twenty-six men was all they had, with eight surplus muskets. He almost felt sorry for their meagre effort, maybe even somewhat impressed — but they were his jailors and would be his executors, he had only disdain to spare them.

In fact, they discussed his execution, and it seemed he was to be put down like a dog. He had hoped his death would have been more dignified, but at heart he had expected this from the beginning, and he had accepted it. He closed his eyes and took a quiet breath.

It hitched when he heard the voice of Jean Valjean from the crowd. Blood rushed to his ears, the world around him beginning to spin — he kept his eyes shut tight. When his hearing returned, he heard Valjean make a request. To blow out that man’s brains myself.

It was then that Javert lifted his head and looked over, and saw the man standing amidst the group of students, looking expectantly at their commander.

“I think that would be fitting,” Javert said, solemn and level.

The commander, Enjolras, allowed it. Valjean took his place at the end of the table with a pistol in hand as the sound of trumpets pealed through the air outside. Everyone stood to attention, as they had planned.

A boy’s voice which was vaguely familiar cried out from on the barricade, and they all rushed from the room at Enjolras’ command. “You’re no better off than I am. I’ll be seeing you soon!” Javert called out.

Now, he found himself alone with Jean Valjean, who made quick work of untying him from the table and gestured for him to stand, to which Javert obeyed. Javert wore an unpleasant expression, the kind that creased his nose in a smile which more resembled a sneer, his steely eyes fixed on the other man as he stood up straight for the first time since his capture, vertebrae cracking slightly at the motion.

Valjean did not return such an expression, or any at all, only took Javert by martingale at his chest and tugged roughly, thus beginning their slow trek outside and across the barricade. Valjean took quick glances at the students, all stood at the ready atop their wooden battlements, muskets in hand. They reached a spot where it was low enough to be clambered over, where Valjean did not let go of the other man’s bindings as he awkwardly clambered over it, before following him shortly.

Once they were far enough into the alleyway as to not be seen by the schoolboys, Valjean halted suddenly. Javert stumbled a little but otherwise kept quiet, still smirking in the bare face of death. Valjean laid his palm flat against Javert’s chest, pushing him up against the nearby brick wall, watching as Javert rested the back of his head against it as if resigning himself to his fate: the resolute, stony inspector forced to yield and yet still triumphant in that he was right — that Jean Valjean would take his life in an act of brutal revenge and let him bleed out at the foot of the wall amongst the grot, that Valjean was still the violent convict he had always known. His face remained perfectly neutral, eyeing Valjean with an expression that sought to bore into his mind, a slight smirk playing upon his lips. He was still yet a sentinel, and knew that even in death — as brutal and undignified as one could be — he would remain righteous, the star hanging over the wretched to judge and condemn.

Valjean saw him; regarded him coolly. He watched how Javert was still under his gaze, yet had a form of energy about him, like a pot of water about to boil over.

“Go on,” Javert hissed, baring his fangs in a grimace, “Take your revenge - you’ve been hungering for this since Toulon. I know it.”

Not an ounce of expression was betrayed as Valjean reached for the pocket-knife on his person, the glint of the blade catching the dying moonlight in its cold, silver sheen.

In any man, the sight of the blade — of a knife such as this one — could only promise a drawn-out, painful death; it was to have your throat slit, choking and hacking on blood as it overwhelms the air in your lungs, forcing it out through your mouths in little gasps, and be left until the blood loss takes hold and brings you into the embrace of the Reaper. Javert was apparently not such a man to quiver at that notion. He only grinned more fiercely, his thin lip stretching over his gums in a snarl of victory.

“Ah, of course,” he gloated, goading Valjean, puffing out his chest, bound as he was, “A knife for a cut-throat criminal. It’s more fitting.”

Valjean’s palm pressed firmer against Javert’s chest, as if he were a lion pinning his prey in place on the ground. His brown eyes, the hue of intoxicating nectar, caught Javert’s own — superseding the coldness in Javert’s own gaze. Under his gaze, Javert seemed to retreat somewhat, leaning back against the wall; he held this distant contact as his chest expanded into the soft pressure of Valjean’s palm, inspiring a breath unusually slow and deep. As quickly as it had intensified, the pressure then released, and Valjean retreated a step.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

Javert obeyed, flashing a self-satisfied expression at Valjean as he did so. Valjean paid him no heed, reaching for Javert’s bound wrists and watching as the serrated knife-edge sawed through the bonds.

As the fraying ropes fell away, with their proximity Valjean noticed the muscles in Javert’s back tensing, and could hear the sharp intake of breath. Both men remained still.

Eventually, Valjean spoke the three words that had been told to him only as lies; ”You are free.”

Javert turned back to regard him. Gone was his smug expression, replaced only with fearful awe and trepidation. “I don’t understand,” he uttered, scarcely above a whisper, like one might murmur to themselves, entranced.

“Clear out,” Valjean muttered, his face close to Javert’s as if conspiring amongst themselves. At this distance, he could feel every faltered breath of Javert’s fan out over his upper lip, huffing from his nose sporadically.

A flash of rage crossed Javert’s face. “Take care, Valjean!” he exclaimed, paying no heed to the established noise level, his tone teetering on the edge of hysterical.

Valjean gripped the noose around Javert’s neck, pulling him closer until their noses almost touched — able to see each twitch of Javert’s eyelid as he held Valjean’s impassive gaze, his teeth bared like a cornered animal. Valjean studied him (acutely aware that Javert could hear each tremble of his lungs as he struggled to calm his breathing) only to slip the loop of rope over his head, freeing him of that as well, before reiterating: “Clear out of here, you are free.”

An unreadable expression crossed Javert’s face before the tiger pounced at Valjean, fisting his paws into Valjean’s shirt. “I know you, Jean Valjean. I am warning you: you attempt to exchange my freedom for yours? There will be no such transaction with me. I am not you — I cannot be bought with promises of freedom, I will not steal my life unlawfully such as you have done, I will never be you, Jean Valjean. Do you understand me, Jean Valjean? I know you — yes! — I know you, I can see your motives plain. You plan to buy me — well! Javert cannot be bought. You will still answer to the Law for what you have done, do you hear me, 24601?” He spat those numbers like he was spitting grit from his bread.

With a slight flicker across his eyes, Valjean lashed forward with his large hands and they found their way around Javert’s thick neck, the force of the attack knocking him backwards and his back collided with the wall once more. Javert spluttered, his eyes wide and crazed, as he clawed Valjean's arms before settling their clasp on his wrists. For a moment Valjean worried that he had seriously hurt Javert when a glassy sort of look waned over his eyes, before fixing themselves back to glare at Valjean. His scowl became a look of submission, clearly realising the strength Valjean held over him as he felt the flexing muscle of the arms he was clutching onto for dear life.

When Javert’s knees began buckling clumsily from underneath him, Valjean knew he had the upper hand. He had the upper hand from the start, Javert had been his prisoner, at his mercy, his life in his hand - but that is exactly what Javert had wanted, and he had been determined to keep it that way. Though he huffed under Valjean’s grasp at his throat, it was not tight enough to be a serious threat. The look in Javert’s eye told him he knew it. Valjean meant only to intimidate.

For a moment, before he spoke again, he watched the scene in front of him with a kind of awe; their faces were still close, now almost level with each other, Javert’s ragged and desperate breaths disturbed the loose hairs that had fallen into Valjean’s face in the tousle. Javert’s eyes, which were often squinted in that haunting leer of his, bulged from his head as the skin around them flushed. Valjean let his eyes wander to a trail of spit which had broken from his lips and ran down his chin.

If their situation were not so dire, Valjean might have pushed closer. He blinked hard, choosing not to get distracted at this moment. Instead, he uttered; “You’re wrong, Javert. I am only a man. Nothing more, nothing less. It is not my right to end your life.”

Javert continued to stare at Valjean with that oddly open gaze, his mouth falling open in little gasps and grunts. Then, the grip around his throat lessened, and he found himself being relinquished. He teetered on unsteady legs for a moment, falling into the weight of Valjean’s chest as his knees refused to support his weight.

That strange, glassy expression was still worn even as Valjean righted him again, holding him under the arms until Javert could stand on steady footing again.

“If I make it out of here alive,” Valjean sighed, feeling as if his next words could overturn his very life, “I reside at number seven, Rue de l’Homme Armé, under the name of Fauchelevent.”

The very confession was like a seal, like the coffin lid closing over the living corpse of Jean Valjean. His life would be no more; all that mattered was Cosette’s happiness, and after he had rescued her true love, he would have no space in her life — her happiness would no longer be dependent on him after today. It was for the best. It was the love that she deserved, rather than that of an old convict.

He nailed his own coffin door shut, blocking each hole with a strange form of grief, allowing no air for his escape.

His lungs could hardly intake breath as he regarded Javert; it would not be the last time.

“Go.”

For a moment, Javert did not move, still hunched slightly and breathing deeply, his heavy arms hanging at his side. His gaze was fixed on Valjean’s, his icy blue eyes piercing him with a contempt which shuddered and faltered like the decaying foundation of a building. Then, as his chest expanded with an inhale, he stiffened, letting the military posture return. His slack jaw snapped shut and set, his brow furrowed and he scowled. He said nothing. He stared at the space above Valjean’s head rather than at him.

Valjean found that Javert’s hands had suddenly made their way to the sides of his head, and before he could have asked about it, thought about it or even looked at the other man to read his expression: his face was far too close to have done so, and felt the heat of another mouth on his, rough lips on rough lips, almost bowled over by the force at which Javert had launched himself at Valjean.

He couldn’t help the shocked noise that escaped him. Javert was kissing him, roughly, though it was hardly a kiss, all teeth and lips, no tongue like passionate lovers shared in their private rendezvous. It was more like a predatorial bite.

What surprised Valjean most is the fact he found he didn’t really want to pull back from the embrace at all.

Javert gripped the other man’s head tightly from either side, fingers digging into his hair, the heel of his palm pressing uncomfortably against his cheekbone. It was harsh. It wasn’t affectionate by any means, perhaps desperate. But the tear that fell from Javert’s eye onto Valjean’s cheek did not go unnoticed.

It was over as soon as it had happened, like it had never happened at all. Javert shoved Valjean’s shoulder fiercely as he turned on his heel without a backward glance.

Valjean stood, in stunned silence, watching Javert’s figure retreat through the alley and turn the corner, out of sight. With shaking hands, he brought two fingers to his face to touch gently upon his lips, still slightly slick with spit. His breath hitched, as if enchanted, and stuttered out, breathing over his fingers that still remained pressed against his lips, passing a chill over the wet spot left by Javert’s own mouth.

Valjean shuddered, wiping it away with the back of his hand resolutely, before hefting the musket aloft and firing into the air.

He wondered if Javert had heard the bang that had resounded as he made his way back to the tavern.

“It is done,” he announced.

Yet it did not feel finished: not for Valjean, nor Javert, as Valjean’s thoughts could only fixate on the tingling sensation he still found on his lower lip where Javert’s teeth had collided, frowning to himself slightly.

His mind fell back to the alleyway, when he watched Javert writhe under his hand. He was thankful for the call of the students from the barricades as the National Guard began an attack once more.

[lifewillalwaysbe-lavieenrose]

GUYS!! I saw Les Mis! In Munich!!!

Let's recap!

The Cast:

Daniel Gutmann as Javert. He was incredible. Definitely my personal highlight. Everytime he sang his voice just ROARED. And he was menacing holy shit. Aggggggh I'm normal about him

Barbara Obermeier as Eponine. When I first heard her sing in Act 1, I knew she was gonna kill it in Act 2. And she did.

Merlin Farcel aka Enjolras. His voice was so perfect I LOVED all the high notes, BUT:

The beard. Sorry, but in my world Enjolras doesn't have a beard. Plus, it makes him look like Peter Maffay

Madame Thenardier was PERFECT (I don't remember who played her that night😭) She was so funny and the audience really loved her.

The Music:

At first, I felt a bit underwhelmed by the orchestra. To be fair, I listened to the 10th anniversary recording SO much, that I really got used to that grand orchestra sound.

There was an electric guitar and at one point an electric bass when Javert sang, which I really loved.

During Master of the House/ Beggars at the Feast you could really see the orchestra bopping their heads and having fun and that made me very happy

I really loved the brass section, they really stood out (That French Hurn during On My Own????!)

The Costumes:

I don't know why, but the Les Amis were wearing these caps all the time. I have never seen a production with them in it. Is this a historically accurate thing?? I didn't really like them, they looked very plastic/shiny and fell out of place

I cannot find a picture but in the beginning of Act 1 Valjean wore a pink vest and then a purple coat which both looked very cheap and which I both didn't like (maybe it was because of the light? The colors felt very unnatural)

Eponine's outfit. At first I thought it didn't look shabby enough. But it looks so badass I'll let it pass

Why don't you let Enjolras wear his red vest??

What is Marius wearing? Goofy boy

Big Mad Hatter vibes from Thenardier. I loved his and the Patron Minettes outifits, they looked very edgy

This is perfect. Perfect. I only wished he had undone his hair for Javert's Suicide (he did, but only for the last 10 seconds)

The Stage:

The stage had a turning middle and stairs that could be moved around, similar like in Hamilton.

They did a cool transition with young Cosette walking up the stairs and old Cosette walking down

Also, they had some cool staging with buildings moving around for Stars. But I feel like there was almost a bit too much happening in the background for this song.

I don't know why they didn't have the Barricades turn and show Enjolras hang upside down. It's such a cool/tragic moment!

During the Barricade scenes, the stage sometimes felt a bit empty. I mean, there were always like 15 people standing around. Maybe the Barricades were to small/not high enough

Empty chairs at empty tables. Where were the empty chairs and empty tables??

In Everyday/A Heart Full of Love Reprise single leaves started falling down on the stage (Like Valjean entering the Fall/Winter of his life) I loved that.

Also, the parallel of Marius learning to walk again using a cane, and Valjean loosing his ability to walk using a cane. I never noticed this before!

There are SO many cool things about the staging I could talk about here. But I want to mention some other topics as well:

The "Spirit" of the Show:

There wasn't a single French flag to be seen. Some red ones, but no French flags.

In the trailer, the director said he wanted to create a more universal setting, speaking to everyone in the audience

I think that's a great sentiment but like. Everyone has French names. There were titles above the stage telling us the year and locations (Places in France) of the events. The title of the show is French.

So I think adding the flags (aka a bit more French nationalism?) would have seemed a lot more convincing for the cause of the students and the whole spirit of the show

But maybe this also has to do with the show being in German? I don't know and I'd really like to discuss it. Maybe someone here made a similar experience seeing it in another language

And last, but MOST importantly:

What about Valvert and Enjoltaire?

In the Confrontation, Javert and Valjean got really close to each other. And I mean fighting each other and then stopping just to sing directly into each other's faces.

Instead of running infront of the court in Who Am I, Valjean just goes to Javert and rips his shirt open? Okay, go off I guess

In Drink with Me, we have a platonic forehead touch between Enjolras and Grantaire. Sadly, that's all I noticed between them 😔

Also, the fact that Grantaire is supposed to be ugly/shabby/a drinker/a sceptic got totally lost, which really takes away from his character.

Conclusion:

All the actors were good, some of them were FANTASTIC. I'd watch it again just for the guy playing Javert, if I could. God, he was SO GOOD

The music was all it should be, maybe a bit too reserved (but again, this might be because I am so used to the 10th anniversary concert)

I really loved some costumes and I also really disliked some

The staging was great, some choices confused me (flags, barricades etc.)

Would I watch it again?

Absolutely!

To be clear, some of the things here might sound more negative than I actually mean. It's just that I have watched SO many different productions online, that I fixated on all the great performances and how I think they should be done. Of course everyone has different opinions here.

Okay thanks for reading if you made it here. Have a great day!

[demon4dilfs]

me and the homies discussing how javert is just as much of a victim as all the other characters in les miserables

[beansprout-tea]

WTNV 235 LES MISÉRABLES BOOK

so can we talk about how Cecil and Tamika discussed the book cause @asydicsydney and I sure did

Les Misérables was an illusion/symbolism to Kevin but more specifically both an older and younger version of Kevin

with the mindset that the boy is in fact Kevin we can say that Javert in this book is post Strex, current, Kevin and that Valjean is either Cecil or a younger version of Kevin

the ending of the book is what started this thought. Javert goes back in time to stop Valjean from stealing the bread and the world is unknowingly affected.

when thinking about this I had the theory that Kevin is traveling in time to either save Cecil or save himself… I’m not sure which one just yet.

and what we are living through right now is the eternal loop that Javert (Kevin) is in.

i think it’s also funny that it is stated that he is constantly waiting for the moment to occur exactly as it originally did… what was one moment that occurred exactly the same for two separate people. the sandstorm that happened way back when Cecil and Kevin met for the first time

the line “But every time Javert gets back to the future, he sees that the world is very different.” @asydicsydney mentioned that this was very triptych coded. and it got me thinking. what did Kevin say to Cecil when he asked about the future.

that it was DESOLATE.

this is something that Cecil didn’t expect (as well as us listening) and most likely Kevin himself as he seems sad when saying it aloud.

-also something worth mentioning that i spotted was the last line about Valjean founding the improve company. Second City.

this is what is really making me lean towards the older/younger kevin time travel dynamic. because the second city just screams Desert Bluffs Too or it could be seen as an illusion to Strex but the first seems more plausible.

finally the whole idea that Kevin used to be good, honest and all be it a great person before Strex and the brainwashing fits in with Valjean being redeemable and then pursuing the unforgivable improv comedy

-Younger Kevin fought against Strex even though he wasn’t going to win and ultimately end up working for Strex due to brutal methods

and now I think that because of the events during triptych and old oak doors Kevin’s timeline is messed up and he is trying to rewrite his narrative to what it should be.

I don’t think Kevin was ever supposed to encounter Strex and I don’t think he was supposed to ever meet Cecil either.

ANYWAYS if you made it this far, thank you for listening to my ramblings <3