The Les Misérables Revival is Leaving Broadway and I'm Heartbroken

Knowing that there will not be some resolute revolutionary waving the red flag at the Imperial Theatre on West 45th Street most nights (and matinees) categorically changes my understanding of New York City.

Because what is New York without Les Misérables?

LITERALLY. ME. WHEN. LES. MIS. CLOSES.

This is not just an ordinary show. This is a revolution (literally and figuratively).

The first time I heard that Les Mis was leaving Broadway in the Fall, I straight up didn't believe it.

"les mis is leaving broadway"

I first learned the tragic news while walking through Times Square a couple months ago. A billboard atop a building on the north side of the square boasted a photo from the revival's publicity shoot and said (something like) "Don't Miz out! Finals months".

First, I enjoyed the pun. Then, I panicked.

Judgement day is September 4th. When Les Mis closes its revival run on Broadway.

After living in London, where the West End production of Les Mis has been running continuously since 1985 (what a blessed city), it was a totally foreign idea to me that Les Mis could be closing on Broadway. I figured that the two best cities in the world would have a continuous run of the best theatrical production known to man (I'm only half kidding).

Plus, I've always considered Les Mis and Phantom of the Opera like field trip buddies. You stay with your buddy. Les Mis and Phantom are the two longest running musicals in the West End - so if Phantom is still running on Broadway (with no foreseeable end), then surely Les Mis will be where Phantom is. Right?

The lesson here: New York is not London - something I'm learning slowly ... and begrudgingly.

The other, more pressing, lesson: I am lost without Les Mis.

without Les Mis, this world is a dark place

What will I do if I want to hear the people sing?? Where will New Yorkers go if they need to have a therapeutic public cry? And, most importantly, how soon is this show coming back??

The revival of Les Mis on Broadway is one of the rare times when I was pro-revamping a show. I'm not altogether sure how many times I've seen Les Mis (weeping through this show is a tradition for the women in my family), so I went into this thinking I knew what to expect.

Except for one thing: in a beautiful twist of fate, I discovered that in this revival, and for a limited engagement, Alfie Boe would be playing Valjean.

And Alfie Boe is my Valjean.*

*This was how it happened: we were flipping through channels and, by the grace of God, we paused on PBS when they were showing the Les Mis 25th Anniversary Concert (which all of the gifs in this article are from, by the way. Because, for the most part, it's the best Les Mis - apart from the actual stage experience, of course). I didn't know it at the time, but the stout man with kind eyes - the one making an unbelievable operatic sound - was Alfie Boe. And this was going to change my life. We bought the 25th Anniversary Concert on DVD the next day.

Alfie "Valjean" Boe, amazing human.

So I bought tickets for the revival knowing I'd be getting to see Alfie do the Valjean role again in person, but knowing nothing else about the revival.

I am not exaggerating. From the moment that the revival started, it was clear that this was going to be a very special production. Right away, it is different, it is bigger, it is more at home in the 21st century than it ever has been. Big changes had been made - like adding the projected sets - and small changes, too - like Marius's weirdly charming blue coat.

*blinded by blue coat* me: how is he making that work

I never thought I'd get to see a version of Les Mis that was like seeing the show anew.

And, if you were wondering, Alfie was as incredible, as always.

I would always urge someone to see this show on stage rather than in any other form; that's how this show is meant to be experienced. But it's not the same when you tell someone to see a show that has closed (at least for now).

And so it's time to say goodbye to this rendition. And this cast. And I literally can't.

Les Mis don't leave me

Of course, it's not just this version of the show that makes it great. It's the story. It's the music. But as a film person, I'm used to constants; films never change. What you bring to them changes. And though one of the beautiful things about theater is that it's different each time, it will be hard to say goodbye. This specific revival has a special place in my heart.

I have the urge to write something like an Oscar speech right now: to thank everyone who was a part of this Les Mis revival experience (I don't know why I'm thanking everybody... I did nothing but sob in the eighth row) and to wish them all well in their further adventures. It's blatantly emotional, but then again, this is Les Mis we're talking about.

Les Mis in summary

So I'll just say: This revival, every little piece of it, has been a special experience for me, and I'm sure for so many others. The music lives on. The show lives on. Even if most of the characters do not.

I will not wave the white flag on this show. The only flags I will be waving will be red - for the revolution.

Until we meet again ... goodbye, Les Mis. I love you.

If you need me, I'll be weeping through the 25th Anniversary Concert.

Spielberg Things about "Stranger Things"

Netflix's (low-key incredible) new show "Stranger Things" is, the internet agrees, a mash-up of a lot of great things, notably: Steven Spielberg, John Carpenter, Stephen King, and the 1980's.

I'm not well-versed in Carpenter or King, but I do score decent marks in Spielberg and 1980's films. I've lost count of how many people have told me that E.T. scared them as a child. Because E.T. comes up in conversation for me. A lot.

*philosophizing* This moment IS cinema.

It's obvious (and wonderful) that the Duffer Brothers have major film influences, but I need to take a second to appreciate how meticulously they pay homage to E.T. in specific. They brilliantly recreated memorable moments from a total classic Spielberg film.

Hello and welcome to the best thing to happen to Netflix ever.

Apart from the fact that everything looks Spielberg à la 1982 (puffy vests, a foggy backyard, moonlight, kids on bikes), even the show's themes are Spielbergian.

You've got your basic Spielberg motifs: kids knowing more than adults, kids encountering supernatural creatures, and the classic Spielberg blend of the heartwarming with the piss-your-pants terrifying. Throw in a dinosaur and a massive shark and you've just about got the whole package (I'm kidding, Steven, I love you).

Stranger Things is even a brilliant Spielberg reference structurally.

Let's just take a glance at the Stranger Things, Episode 1: "The Vanishing of Will Byers".

Even though the structure is far from identical, the approach is similar. Here's a breakdown of the first two scenes of each Stranger Things vs. E.T. (Bonus: I color coded shared elements).

Opening Structure of E.T.:

Opening credits

Pan over of starry sky

Scene #1: The Forest Pursuit (creature established)

The spaceship introduced, aliens (including E.T.) kept in shadows and unseen

E.T. pursued by government men and left behind on earth

Scene #2: Elliott's House (friends established)

Elliott wants to join his older brother and his friends in a Dungeons & Dragons-type game

The boys banter about the game

Elliott picks up pizza from delivery man

Elliott's mom asks about the game

Elliott investigates a noise in the backyard

The family goes out to investigate but they find nothing

Opening Structure of Stranger Things, Episode 1:

Opening title on starry sky: November 6th, 1983. Hawkins, Indiana.

Tilt down from starry sky

Scene #1: Hawkins National Laboratory (creature established)

Scientist is pursued and taken by unseen monster

Scene #2: Mike's House (friends established)

Mike and his friends are playing Dungeons & Dragons

The boys banter about the game

Mike's mom tries to end the game

Dustin ends the scene by asking if anyone wants the pizza

Shared elements abound: young boys bantering over a board game, pizzas, moms not understanding the essential importance of Dungeons & Dragons ... even the opening with a moving shot of the starry sky. So. Much. E.T.!

Structurally, the major difference between the two is that Stranger Things uses the first scene to establish that the creature is pursuing humans, while in E.T., humans are pursuing the creature.

The opening scene of the monster chasing the scientist at Hawkins National Lab serves the same purpose as the first scene of E.T. in the forest when E.T. is being chased. Both say to the audience, "hey, this is the (mysterious) creature, and this is humanity's relationship to it". Stranger Things reverses E.T.'s scenario by making the monster pursue the humans so that the scene integrates aspects of 1980's horror, but still works around a similar opening structure of E.T.

Which is, you know, casually brilliant.

Can we talk about the casts for a moment? Frankly, Henry Thomas was incredible as Elliott in 1982 (his screen-test for E.T. is still one of the most memorable I've ever seen; watch it below), and the young actors in Stranger Things follow in his footsteps beautifully - they are hilarious, heartfelt, and sincere in turn.

Henry Thomas: Child Prodigy

But in both cases, it's the whole cast working together which makes everything seem uncannily natural. Great work everyone. We can all go home now.

The exact scientific representation of how I feel about the cast of Stranger Things

If you think about Eleven as E.T. and Mike as Elliott, there are an overwhelming amount of similarities. I was humming the E.T. theme (as I often am) when Mike faked sick (or, in this case, faked grief) to stay home from school. By this time, we'd already seen him sneak back into the house on a school day after his mom left. But he had to show Eleven around his house. When you have a friend staying, you don't just leave them alone.

Elliott fakes sick to stay home from school, too, and then shows E.T. around. Both scenes create a lovely trust bond between the characters as the one so willingly shares all his most important possessions with the other - even if those possessions include a plastic Boba Fett, or in the case of Stranger Things, a Yoda action figure.

Side note: Mike's bedroom even has the same rainbow blinds as Elliott's bedroom. (Rainbow blinds = all the rage, apparently.)

And who could forget the scene in E.T. when Elliott tries to hide his new alien friend from his mother, camouflaging him among dolls in his closet? Mike also hides El in his closet, though this triggers a flashback for her, which puts a spin on the original iconic scene when you expect laughter, but instead get something pretty grim.

And then, of course, there is Spielberg's iconic bike chase scene. When I think of Elliott and friends skidding along those asphalt roads with E.T. in the bike basket, John William's soaring - utterly unparalleled - score to E.T. is instantly audible:

This. Score. *crying noise* *crying noise*

Mike and friends also have a bike race of sorts to escape several pursing government cars. Was I the only one who completely expected El to make everyone's bike fly??

Although E.T. was pretty nostalgic even when it came out in 1982 (Star Wars references, Elliott's recreation of the kiss from Ford's "The Quiet Man", general cultural/filmic intertextuality), Stranger Things still strikes me as E.T. plugged into 2016 and our hyper-nostalgia culture. It's like an eight-hour E.T. that never would have been possible - at least, not in the same way - in 1982.

On the other hand, part of the brilliance of Stranger Things is that it is a cinephile's treasure hunt. It goes so far beyond E.T., too. Because this show handles filmic influences the way every director aspires to, you can see on the screen what films have influenced it. Spielberg is present without anyone saying a single word, and it's fun to unravel this text like a ball of 1980's-era yarn.

The fact that such a Spielberg series has taken off so dramatically makes it even more interesting that Spielberg's actual new film, "The BFG" (2016), tanked so badly at the box office last month. Could this mean that people are craving more genre-blending to make Spielberg "more interesting"? And would The BFG have done better if it had been released after Stranger Things rather than before? The rabid reception of the show could only have created a renewed interest in Spielberg, and also boosts Netflix's programming relevance.

Surely, the horror aspects of the show aren't what's scariest to the primetime networks about Netflix's renewed relevance. A small streaming service making such a big splash (again) might make primetime wonder if they've actually seen stranger things than Stranger Things. Something tells me they're about to.

_________

P.S. I took this opportunity to design my own poster for Stranger Things - check it out in larger size here!

"The Heiress" (1949)

While the genius of a film like The Heiress (1949) could send me raving for hours (and with such an undeniable classic, where to even begin heaping praise?!), part of the reason I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen was because I so thoroughly didn't know what to expect. This was certainly an instance where suspense was advantageous.

So, because I want you to have an equally satisfying viewing experience, my lips are sealed. But I beg of you: read nothing more about it. Just please - go see this film.

Then come back and we can mutually rave about it together.

In case you have already seen "The Heiress" and have come back to rave, scroll down for my spoiler-heavy review.

*Spoilers below*

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Once Morris Townsend walked back into the room with a mustache, it was alllll over.

The mustache cued my irrational protests at the TV. It was at this point in the film that we've just spent almost two hours hoping against hope, alongside our heroine, Miss Olivia de Havilland, that Mr. Townsend, played by the fascinating Montgomery Clift, would pull a Mr. Darcy and return gallantly with some unfathomable, iron-clad excuse for his seemingly abhorrent behavior.

Could it be? Could the couple reunite and spend the rest of their days together, wealthy and content?

But then there was the mustache. That's when I knew how this was going to go down. Because there was no way that anyone would put a mustache on Montgomery Clift's handsome face if it wasn't to help us realize that this man was an irredeemable scoundrel.

I am not sure if I've ever hated anyone more than Morris Townsend.

For the entire film, you have an underlying feeling that something isn't right about Mr. Townsend, that Catherine Sloper's father is right to create obstacles for their union. But the romance scenes are filmed so lavishly (which imdb commented was partially done because of the studio's insistence that Clift be used for his capabilities as a romantic leading man) that you have to hope - and start to believe - that he can't possibly be lying.

Wyler has planted many little moments which make you doubt Morris's affections, but he deftly sprinkles them into the film in a way which makes you explain those foreboding moments away. Just as you're rooting for Morris to find a way to see Catherine, you remember how he cornered her by the sliding door into the parlor, blocking her way with his arm just a little too invasively. As Morris talks about his plans to see Catherine after her time away in Europe, he looks at her home a little too possessively.

All of the things which Catherine feels about Mr. Townsend, we feel right alongside her. When she believes in him, we believe. But when she seeks vengeance, you just have to watch, wide-eyed, and see how she will get it.

These moments make the film just as much mystery and a drama as it is a romance. The first half of The Heiress is Pride & Prejudice and the second half is Wuthering Heights. I love that I didn't have a clue how this was going to end. Something dark lurks beneath all the lavish romance, which only makes this film more disturbing and memorable. What might we believe if we were told by a pretty face?