Les Mis the musical and Les Mis the movie, by virtue of directed imagery, have been rendered two distinct entities. Though the lyrics of the musical are drenched in redemptive imagery, the stage has generally been left bare, for the mind to supply itself with scenery. The film version, however,  surprisingly and overtly drapes its frames in Christian imagery; embracing crucifixes, crosses, convents, and sacred spaces.

The sacred and the profane, wild, revolutionary world, are starkly contrasted against each other: the desacralized world manifesting in revolutionaria and in the degraded masses; the sacred in redeemed characters. The fruits of both are represented: the anarchic and the wrathful versus the peaceful and the edifying; perpetual revolution versus ongoing redemption.

This review will concern itself more with analysis of symbols and imagery than with plot and dramatica. Even so, I feel the need to remark that the decision to have the actors perform song live lends humanity and realism and is much appreciated.

The opening scene rises up from the depths of an oceanic abyss towards a submerged French flag. Perhaps this signifies the French condition; tossed by tempestuous waves and drowned by the sound of sirens.

The camera then pans over a galley ship being hauled into a dry-dock by chained prisoners. As the camera descends, it swoops over the wings of a wooden angel, carved into the bow of the ship. This will be the first of many visual cues that alert the viewer to the sacred contained within the film’s visual aesthetic.

Interestingly, ships feature several times in the film, specifically ships out of water and wrecked ships. Do these perhaps represent humanity, as fragile, damaged vessels, wounded by life?

Above the masses of prisoners who are hauling in the ships by ropes, standing on a ledge, is Javert, the inspector, who will pursue Jean Val Jean (heretofore referred to as JVJ), relentlessly. He is shown on high several times in the film, peering down upon humanity with severity.

As it turns out, JVJ is to be released on this day, but not before Javert requires him to lift an extremely heavy flagstaff attached to a sullied French flag in the water, like a Christ figure, on the way to Calvary.

JVJ ascends into the mountains, “from when comes our salvation;” and is framed against the backdrop of a cross on a pillar of stones; and beneath a brilliant full moon, symbol Our Lady. Ok, director Hooper, you have my attention.

JVJ wades through a sea of fallen humanity; is beaten and mistreated by children and adults; before collapsing on the doorstep of a Priest; who embraces him, even in his fallen and wretched estate.

 

JVJ makes off with the Priest’s silver, like a new Judas, only to be captured by policia and returned to the Priest in his guilt; who defends JVJ, thus securing his immersion in Grace. Val Jean paces back and forth beside a horizontal crucified marble Jesus. The ceiling is crowned with stars. Exiting the Priest’s domicile, JVJ passes through a courtyard filled with crosses, departing for a life of Catholic Christian charity and honor (as the Priest commends him to do).

Several years into the future, a montage of the bereft masses of humanity ensues, singing in chorus: “At the end of the day.” The poor starving masses are sick with cholera. Their desperation is palpable; both internally and externally.

We advance to JVJ’s factory, where the former criminal has made himself an honorable life, using the Priest’s silver to put the poor to work. Fantine, mother of Cosette, is working alongside a series of cruel, obnoxious women; dressed in a delicate, feminine pink, compared with her dully clothed co-workers. She is like a flower beside various strands of darnel.

It is revealed in this scene that Fantine has a child. She is kicked out of the factory for this.

Javert has been pursuing JVJ doggedly, and they meet face to face in the factory, after Javert peers down upon him from on high. Val Jean hands him a Rosary. Since when has Hollywood ever felt the need to add sacred symbols to film without denigrating them? My jaw slackened. Immediately after this most Catholic of symbols is transferred, a cry arises from the street; a man is trapped beneath a cart beam; the weight of this cross shaped yoke is crushing him, and JVJ, the man of Grace, lifts it from him.

Javert recognizes Val Jean in this action, as if the lifting of the cross was his own personal Emmaus. This rescued man will later return in Les Mis to reciprocate help for JVJ in his moment of need; merciful  reception is a recurring theme within the work.

Meanwhile, Fantine is most bereft. After losing her job, in fear of the future of her sick child, she wanders the streets of the desacralized, brutalizing world. She sells an heirloom and her hair; and like a feminine Sampson, proceeds to lose her virtue and strength. As she is being seduced to prostitution by a horde of sirens, to the tune of “Lovely Ladies,” a demonic statue is flashed instantaneously.    

A vista of ruined ships is presented before the eye. Fantine yields up her ship’s treasure to a leering “Captain,” but not with her heart contained within the action. After her patron leaves, she sings “I Dreamed a Dream.”

“There was a time when love was blind

 And the world was a song

 And the song was exciting

 There was a time

Then it all went wrong.”

Souls who tend towards Grace mourn for their lost innocence.

A man assaults Fantine in the night, and Val Jean rescues her. She is now feverish. He lifts her into his arms like a child, and carries her to the safety of a convent to convalesce; she is tended to by nuns. Fantine gazes absently into a linen curtain, adorned with a large cross (death is the last cross; a just sentence and a last purification for fallen men).

Behind the veil, Fantine glimpses a phantom Cosette, angelic, reaching towards her through the cross. Who is behind this movie? She dies in the arms of JVJ, the bestower of Christ’s largess and mercy, in  ecstatic contemplation.

The contrast between the cold secular world and the comforting sacred one is most striking.

Javert, who is the omnipresent accuser, a Lucifer figure, appears in all his wrath, to impose the law (as JVJ has fled parole). I imagine Val Jean would have gone with Javert, save for the fact Fantine’s daughter is entrusted to him. JVJ fights Javert off with a (cross?) beam, and plunges into salvific water, leaving Javert again on high: like the Prince of the power of the air. His prey is again snatched from him; removed by inscrutable movements of grace.

Now, Cosette appears in reality; unkempt and neglected, singing: “Castle on a cloud.” Souls instinctively yearn after Heavenly imagery. She gazes up into a window at the image of a mother figure and sings: “There is a lady all in white.” Is this Our Lady?

Through mysterious operations of Grace, Cosette is rescued from her cruel existence by JVJ. What began as a chance encounter with a Priest, has blossomed into a life of mercy sanctified by love of God. Though Val Jean was once bereft, a little seed of good-will planted in him has become a holy tree, branching out exponentially.

After liberating Cosette, JVJ discovers the ruefully ubiquitous Javert again in chase. He takes refuge in a convent. The sisters are singing the same song sung by the Priest at his initial moment of conversion; a signal that we are redeemed in merciful actions? Time is given to note the pacific beauty and order of the prayerful peace of the sisters en chapel; lit to the point of loveliness by candle-light. A foretaste of Heaven?

As Val-Jean peers down upon the Churchyard, we notice the rows of horizontal crosses, perhaps symbolizing the joining of Heaven and earth in the person of Jesus? Most Mysteriously, JVJ and Cosette are taken into the care of the man Val-Jean liberated from beneath the beam. Grace proceeds to further Graces.

A quick scene of Javert gazing blankly into a crucifix, and he is on the rooftops again, nimbly striding the edge. He sings, “And if they fall as Lucifer fell,” while standing by the bust of a bird of prey/phoenix, symbol of the fall of Lucifer. This goes a long way in confirming my theory that Javert is a Lucifer prototype.

The camera ascends over a cross, crowning the roof’s pinnacle, and then descends upon the Paris of unruly mobs of children, who sing, “Look down… here in the slums of Saint Michele.” Michele is the French form of Michael, the ArcAngel responsible for driving Lucifer out of Heaven. Perhaps there is more to this revolution than meets the eye?

Phase two of the film is concerned with revolution, displaying the suffering, starving and sick masses converging in the streets; a desacralized wild mass; contrasted by the privileged, who dine adjacent to them. Javert, the accuser, is everywhere; seeking to hinder Grace, which he is not able to perceive; a child of the law and of wrath, as he is. He locates JVJ and Cosette in Paris.

Though Val-Jean is opposed continuously by Javert, invariably, his forced and hindered actions flower in the opposition; revived by mysterious movements of Grace.

They are forced to flee, but not before Marius and Cosette exchange meaningful glances; falling in love instantly; the way events obtain syncronicity only in the movies.

Meanwhile, revolutionaries of the June Rebellion, Marius included, gather in Café Musain (whose closest cognate is inspiration), to plan further post French revolution action. They thirst to shed their blood and youthful vigor for a wild dream of temporal glory; singing “Red and Black.

Red is the blood, and black is the death of revolutionaries.

Marius (read: Mary is) counters, singing: “The world can change in but one burst of light.”

“Our lives don’t count at all,” counter the revolutionaries, with typical youthful bravado.

It is, of course, entirely up to us, whether they do or not.

Leaving the den of wild men, the camera frames a virginal Cosette, safely hidden within her room, a sealed fountain, against the backdrop of delicate flowers, symbolizing her lily purity. Her garment is woven with flowers. Bunches of blossoms hang outside her window, like ripe clusters of grapes.

Might this suggest a contrast between earlier scenes of lost innocence and human degradation?

Is this still a Hollywood film?

Bunches of lovely flowers halate Cosette as she emerges from her garden to greet Marius. Between them is the garden gate, guarding her lily white purity like an ArcAngel.

In harmony they sing “A heart full of love.” Indeed.

Marius is followed, and Eponine, who is the daughter of the innkeeper JVJ rescued Cosette from, alerts the household with a cry. Fearing his cover is blown, Val-Jean gathers Cosette, and flees.

Special attention is made to JVJ packing the candle sticks the Priest gave him in the beginning. Perhaps they represent the phrase: “You are the light of the world.” Candles are recurrent in Les Mis, especially in sacred spaces.

A montage of red. A red flag is waved by the revolutionaries. The revolutionary leader is adorned in a blood red coat. Javert is displayed wearing a French flag pendant, attached to his jacket by a swatch of red ribbon.

At the funeral of the people’s leader, Lemarque, the rebels descend upon his casket’s coach, hoisting their blood red flags. Javert is disguised within their ranks. His wrath is clearly omniscient.

Inverted flag-pyramids of black and gold sway in the wind, hanging from the halls of justice: symbols of Masonry; who proudly take credit for the French Revolution. Crosses with streamers flank the streets.

Shots and chaos ensue. “To the barricades!”

Child sized coffins are stacked in front of the makeshift barricade, presaging the tragic death of a child; and the grown children who are so misguided and sadly secularized, to the point of dying for a mad impromptu dream.

Outside the walls of the Church, our Mother, what is there for man to do but debate endlessly and foment strife?

Speaking of walls, what could the makeshift barricade represent but the paltry and artificial divisions erected between men, which incite them to war against each other, who are really brothers descended from one Adam? Divided men are not able to witness the humanity of their brothers. This is the object of barricades.

Above the coffins and barricade is a prominently displayed all-seeing eye; symbol of the mystery religions and Masonry. It is, in fact, displayed quite brazenly; just a bit to the left on the main building. The French Revolution is considered part of the Great Work of the Ages. The elite are guiding history from behind the scenes, and many see our times as being the crucial moment in the history of man.

Battle ensues at the barricade, and Eponine is slain by a stray bullet; expiring beneath a sign reading “mort;” French for death. In her last act, Eponine gives to Marius the note Cosette left to instruct Marius as to why she fled; she is thus freed from her constricting possessive love, and is liberated in death.

Marius seeks Cosette, thereby drawing JVJ behind the barricade, where he spares the life of Javert.

This is a grace which might have converted Javert, but instead polarizes him in his condition of wrathful creature; demonstrating how graces can change into condemnation when dismissed with ingratitude.

Upon over-hearing Marius sing his love for Cosette, JVJ is moved, and intones: “God on high,” framed curiously beneath the Eye. Symbolism is seldom missing in this film!

Quickly after this song and its attachment to the Eye, bursts a clever quick shot of a soldier crouching with rifle in hand, beneath the eye. He whistles sharply, and the camera dashes left. Blink and you will miss it.

A battle at daylight.

Marius is shot and JVJ whisks him away; always a savior.

The rebellion is a disaster. The rebel leader is cornered in the café, shot, and hangs cryptically out the window, over the word Musain (inspiration); a blood red flag in his cold dead hand. The streets run red.

JVJ drags Marius through the sewers to safety. As Paul writes, ”Jesus assumed the form of a servant,” to redeem fallen men; leaving glorious Heaven for our sakes. Val-Jean is completely covered in filth by his saving action; head to toe. And yet, Marius, who is unconscious, is unaware. How many men truly ponder what Jesus took upon His divine Person to secure Redemption? The pure one became “All sin” for our sakes.

Javert confronts JVJ in the street, but is impotent in his wrath; frozen by the demonstration of Val-Jean’s total dedication to Graceful saving action. He can but gnash his teeth in fury, at defeat. What can he say? His whole life and purpose are overthrown by the salvific power of JVJ’s annihilation in Mercy.

Glorious Mercy outshines the law like a star against a little lamplet.

Javert paces on the edge of a precipice, above salubrious fountains. He sings, “I am the law and the law is not mocked,” before hurling his person over the edge. His entire life is a prelude to this moment. Pride goeth before the fall.

The waters Javert disappears into dissolve in painted images of angelic cherubs over Marius’ hospital bed.

Alone in the Café Musain, Marius sings, “My friends, don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for.”

Marius brings Cosette to his family home, no longer a revolutionary, as Grace is now operating in his life. Marius and Cosette sing in unison, “Every day we will remember that night and the vow that we made.”

Human romantic love, when balanced and proportionate, leads the lovers to the love of the divine One; Who is the highest goal of men, beyond the earth.

As JVJ confesses his past to Marius, a cross divides them. This overt imagery is a continual surprise.

As JVJ flees to leave the two free to marry, an enormous crucifix adorns the wall behind him.

Marius discovers JVJ saved him in the sewers, at his glorious wedding, and seeks him out of gratitude. JVJ is where? Where else? In a Cathedral.

A close-up of a crucifix and a dying Jean Val Jean.

“God on high, hear my prayer,” ascending from this earthly abyss, to Thy throne, sings Val-Jean.

A sevenfold candelabra illuminates the chapel, symbolizing the sevenfold Spirit of God.

Cosette and Marius appear to comfort John, Valorous John; and he blesses them, laying his hands upon them like a Patriarch; as Fantine sings to him: representing how the good works we perform accompany us at the hour of death.

The angelic Cosette comforts her father in his last agony, as Marius proclaims: “Cosette, your father is a Saint.”

“God in Heaven, look down on him in Mercy,” is sung by Fantine.

This is “The story of one who turned from hating,” Jean Val Jean.

“To love another person is to see the face of God:” all in chorus.

Love for Fantine and Cosette was Val-Jean’s individual redemption.

The Priest who redeemed JVJ receives his soul on the threshold of life, within the Cathedral courtyard, enveloped by glorious candlelight.

Outside the Church walls, a closing scene unfolds: an enormous barricade where all the dead gather, waving red flags; singing “Tomorrow comes.” They are a sea of tempestuous humanity; raging perennially; the blessed and the reprobates gathered together, like a final resurrection.

The timing of this movie is curious to me, as revolution rages in the world, and seems to presage increasingly greater turmoil. Hollywood is expert at revelation of the method; and I surmise that we are boldly presented here with our choice; as we stand, like Javert, on the precipice of events, to either leap into the Arms of our Father, or plunge headlong into the abyss of chaotic infernality.