Fine adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel that has been on my "must read" list for thirty years.
As Inspector Javert, the cop who pursues escaped convict Jean Valjean through much of mid-1800s France, a stern and pitiless Anthony Perkins steps outside the box and sheds his neurotic "Psycho" persona completely. His expression is uniformly composed and utterly grim, his lips a thin dark line. Boy, is he intractable. Not only with anyone who breaks the law but with himself, if he believes that HE has broken the law.
Wardrobe has decked him out with a hat like Napoleon's. And, well, Perkins is tall and gauntly and he has a long neck. And in his tight, full-length black overcoat with its high collar, and with his arms folded across his chest, his silhouette can't help looking an awful lot like Mother Bates' pacing back and forth in front of her upstairs window.
The story: Richard Jordan is Jean Valjean. An out-of-work wood cutter with no family, he steals a loaf of bread, is captured, and sent to prison where he suffers under the scrutiny of Perkins as Javert. When he manages to escape, he finds renewal under the guidance of a bishop, and begins a life of doing good for others under a new identity. In five years he is made mayor of a small town. And, surprise, Javert is assigned to the same town as Chief of Police.
Balked in his attempts to impose harsh punishment on the town's few law breakers by Valjean's generosity, Javert begins to suspect the mayor of being exactly who he is. But he doesn't exactly catch Valjean, because circumstances force Valjean to reveal his true identity in order to save another man falsely accused.
Valjean slips off to Paris with the little orphan girl he's adopted and they find refuge in a convent. As the years pass, Valjean finds honest employment and still has a stash left over from his days as mayor. But it's always a problem, being a fugitive and dragging a little girl around with you, as Humbert Humbert found out. Little girls have a habit of growing up -- and they always fall in love with the wrong guy. Caroline Langrishe is Cosette as a young lady. She's a knockout but not very bright. Instead of falling for a doctor or a lawyer or a wheeler/dealer like Donald Trump, she is in the thrall of a handsome young revolutionary. And, wouldn't you know it, Javert is sent to that district of Paris as an undercover operative to spy on the same revolutionaries. It gets a little twisted after that. And I don't think I want to reveal the resolution, although medical discretion allows me the observation that Javert remains unforgiving to the very bitter end. Well, kind of.
I can't really compare it to the novel because I've never read the novel, but I have seen two or three other cinematic versions of the story and they're pretty similar. Frederick March played Valjean in a 1930s version, if I remember, and he was extremely good in the role, and in the role of the Valjean lookalike who is falsely accused. March managed to turn the hapless innocent into a man with brain damage.
More recently, Liam Neeson, whose looming, hulking presence and irrepressible nose always make him unforgettable, was quite believable as Valjean. And Geoffrey Rush was an unimpeachable Javert, bringing much more to the role than the simple story would suggest. I mean, Rush was really tormented in a way that no other Javert has ever been. I won't say much about Claire Danes as Cosette because, although I am deeply in love with her, she's never responded to my perhaps too-graphic emails. What does that do for your operational definition of "unrequited"? There are a couple of nicely done tense scenes of action and suspense in the current version. Not so much the shoot out at the barricades but the scene in which Richard Jordan hoists little Cosette up onto a rooftop and barely escapes the determined Javert and his Myrmidons.
Overall, this is about as good as the other versions I've seen -- and that's pretty good. Some of the credit, of course, should probably go to Victor Hugo, the Paddy Chayevsky of his day.
As Inspector Javert, the cop who pursues escaped convict Jean Valjean through much of mid-1800s France, a stern and pitiless Anthony Perkins steps outside the box and sheds his neurotic "Psycho" persona completely. His expression is uniformly composed and utterly grim, his lips a thin dark line. Boy, is he intractable. Not only with anyone who breaks the law but with himself, if he believes that HE has broken the law.
Wardrobe has decked him out with a hat like Napoleon's. And, well, Perkins is tall and gauntly and he has a long neck. And in his tight, full-length black overcoat with its high collar, and with his arms folded across his chest, his silhouette can't help looking an awful lot like Mother Bates' pacing back and forth in front of her upstairs window.
The story: Richard Jordan is Jean Valjean. An out-of-work wood cutter with no family, he steals a loaf of bread, is captured, and sent to prison where he suffers under the scrutiny of Perkins as Javert. When he manages to escape, he finds renewal under the guidance of a bishop, and begins a life of doing good for others under a new identity. In five years he is made mayor of a small town. And, surprise, Javert is assigned to the same town as Chief of Police.
Balked in his attempts to impose harsh punishment on the town's few law breakers by Valjean's generosity, Javert begins to suspect the mayor of being exactly who he is. But he doesn't exactly catch Valjean, because circumstances force Valjean to reveal his true identity in order to save another man falsely accused.
Valjean slips off to Paris with the little orphan girl he's adopted and they find refuge in a convent. As the years pass, Valjean finds honest employment and still has a stash left over from his days as mayor. But it's always a problem, being a fugitive and dragging a little girl around with you, as Humbert Humbert found out. Little girls have a habit of growing up -- and they always fall in love with the wrong guy. Caroline Langrishe is Cosette as a young lady. She's a knockout but not very bright. Instead of falling for a doctor or a lawyer or a wheeler/dealer like Donald Trump, she is in the thrall of a handsome young revolutionary. And, wouldn't you know it, Javert is sent to that district of Paris as an undercover operative to spy on the same revolutionaries. It gets a little twisted after that. And I don't think I want to reveal the resolution, although medical discretion allows me the observation that Javert remains unforgiving to the very bitter end. Well, kind of.
I can't really compare it to the novel because I've never read the novel, but I have seen two or three other cinematic versions of the story and they're pretty similar. Frederick March played Valjean in a 1930s version, if I remember, and he was extremely good in the role, and in the role of the Valjean lookalike who is falsely accused. March managed to turn the hapless innocent into a man with brain damage.
More recently, Liam Neeson, whose looming, hulking presence and irrepressible nose always make him unforgettable, was quite believable as Valjean. And Geoffrey Rush was an unimpeachable Javert, bringing much more to the role than the simple story would suggest. I mean, Rush was really tormented in a way that no other Javert has ever been. I won't say much about Claire Danes as Cosette because, although I am deeply in love with her, she's never responded to my perhaps too-graphic emails. What does that do for your operational definition of "unrequited"? There are a couple of nicely done tense scenes of action and suspense in the current version. Not so much the shoot out at the barricades but the scene in which Richard Jordan hoists little Cosette up onto a rooftop and barely escapes the determined Javert and his Myrmidons.
Overall, this is about as good as the other versions I've seen -- and that's pretty good. Some of the credit, of course, should probably go to Victor Hugo, the Paddy Chayevsky of his day.