11.1.22 And the song was exciting.

 

Okay. So, this is about judging. Pre-judging to be accurate. It's about assumption based on incorrect information and your own prejudice.

It's about being wrong.

For years, people had told me that I *needed* to see Les Miserables. A friend of J's told us in about 1992 that we should go and see it; she'd seen it in the West End and said it was the best thing she'd ever seen. But it was a musical with no dialogue, every word was sung. So basically an opera? No. Thanks but no. Not for me.

My mate Mark (Hello Mr Bullock if you're reading this, hope all's good), a man who knows more about musicals than pretty much anyone I've ever met, tried his best to convince me. Give it a chance. So I did. Kind of. I put the CD soundtrack (the 1985 cast recording, the one I've got playing as I write) on in the stockroom at work one afternoon. And I hated it. Genuinely hated it. Couldn't come to terms with any of the songs.

So my stance solidified. Not for me. Don't get it.

Our Keith and Nikki saw the show. Several times. Possibly many times. And they tried to tell me that I should see it. "You need t see the show, *need* to *see* it." Yeah but I've heard the songs and they're terrible.

Mikee Dickinson, whose theatrical judgement I trust on many many things, tried to convince J and I that we should all go to see the show together. Yeah, but I hate the songs, why would I want to see a show where I hate the songs? Give me a Jesus And Mary Chain musical and we're sorted. J wanted to see the show. Full disclosure there. J has always wanted to see the show. Her only problem, her only obstacle to seeing the show was... well, me, obviously. Being obstinate.

Sometime late last year I received the Liverpool Empire programme for early '22 in the post. And you could get £30 tickets for shows. For pretty big shows. Which kind of makes taking the chance on something that bit more accessible. 

So I said, "What do you reckon?"

Obviously the £30 tickets weren't particularly amazing so I said, "What do you reckon to these seats?" They cost more but they were better and if we were going to do this based on the spectacle of the whole thing then we should do it properly. So we bought them. 

Is there anyone who can't see the punchline coming on this whole thing?

We went last night. 

Obviously it's a masterpiece. In terms of storytelling, staging, lighting and performance, both musical and theatrical. 

I was blown away. 

Eventually.

At the interval I wasn't entirely sold, whereas J loved it from first second to last. I knew what I was looking at was excellent, was really high quality, was brilliant in how it was placed on stage, but I was struggling with the story. I, and this is almost undoubtedly just me, wasn't sure what story the show was telling. Not knowing anything about the story going in probably didn't help but - and this is where SPOILERS come in - Jean Valjean was a criminal then released then sorted his life out and became a mayor, then his adversary from the first scene arrived and Valjean's true identity was revealed. And we're twenty minutes in. Hold on. Isn't this supposed to be the entire arc of the story? And then he abandons his mayoral life, adopts Cosette and takes up a new life. Then it's years later and there are these students starting a revolution - where did this suddenly come from? 

I knew it was excellent, I knew every performer was brilliant, the live orchestra was stunning, the semi-operatic nature of the show was suddenly absolutely fine by me - was in fact fine by me from the opening number. I was in. I was in very quickly, I just couldn't feel the narrative. I hit the interval thinking that the first act had been like a sketch for a story, but with massive moments. Possibly the nature of adapting a massive novel into a two and a half hour stage play. 

If you'd asked me at half time I'd have told you it was very good and I was glad I'd seen it but I wasn't blown away and wouldn't have thought I'd ever feel the need to see it again.

It was the second act that did it.

In fairness, it was the end of act one - One Day More - that started it. The moment when suddenly every disparate thread pulled together in one song. 

But the second act was stunning. Staggering.

It was the barricades that did it.

Not the sight of the brilliant staging of the barricades but the moment when it all goes awry.

It was the moment where everything becomes darkness and bright white light. The moment where it's all gunshots and explosions. It was the moment where all the revolutionaries are slaughtered, when everything they've believed in has come to nothing and they realise that Paris hasn't stood with them just before they are massacred.

It was the moments immediately before that: the drinking song of doomed men, the knowledge that they may not see the next day out. And it was Bring Him Home. 

It's a song I knew, a song I obviously knew; it's very difficult not to know that song. J and I both assumed it was the song of somebody who has lost someone, of someone who wants the return of a loved one who cannot possibly be returned.

It's not. It's a prayer for mercy, for someone who loves someone that you love to be spared from the inevitable. It's a prayer that everything you dread doesn't come to be, knowing full well that it will. Delivered in one of the most perfectly beautiful vocals I've ever heard. 

And in  all those second half moments, watching that massacre, watching the senseless loss, I knew the following:

1. I was broken. Shattered. Destroyed.

2. I needed to see the whole show again. Immediately. And probably many many times.

3. This show, this global behemoth, is as socialist a piece of entertainment as you could ever wish. 

It's in 'Can You Hear The People Sing'. It's the nature of the idea that the poor are punished for minor misdeeds, it's in the act of standing up for what's right and against what's clearly wrong. 

And, under this government that's currently imposing its lies and corruption on us, it was exactly the hint of revolution that I needed.

It was act two that did it. Act one was the set up[, act one was moving the pieces into place. Act two was resolving everything. Brilliantly.

Perfectly staged with moments of "My god, how've they done that" and musical actors at the very top of their trade, it's genuinely one of the best things I've ever seen.

I'd ask why it took me so long to discover this fact but we all know the answer to that. Every one of you reading this can list the reasons. Why didn't I discover how great this was earlier? Well... it's me, isn't it?

I was wrong. Very very wrong.

(Tell you what though, I'm listening to the soundtrack album at the moment - it's not necessary something I'll do often. This isn't what it's meant to be. This is a representations of a small slice of something much bigger. 

And that's what I didn't get. I get it now.)