“You know, Christopher, there are so few days anymore when I am bedridden all day. I make most of your meals most days…I really don’t think it is too much to ask you to occasionally make me a damn sandwich!”

To Christopher’s vast amusement and my dismay, I utterly failed to watch my cursing in front of 3-year-old Butterlump.

“I want a damn sandwich, too!”

Sigh.

(Those that have not dedicated their lives to singing might want to stop reading because chances are high you won’t agree with me.)

The strengths: Hugh Jackman didn’t totally suck. The kids rocked. Cosette hit the high notes and had such a tiny voice it didn’t make me want to shoot myself in the head. Also, the illustration of the utter stupidity futility of that paltry revolution was much better illustrated than on stage. And the Tenardier’s were awesome as was Epionine. And thank God you had sense enough to cast Calm Wilkinson somewhere. Although it almost made it worse to hear the angel who created Jean ValJean because no one will EVER be as awesome in that role.

OK, I’m done with that segment.

LET THE WHINING COMMENCE:

Hollywood. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, STOP CASTING MUSICALS WITH ACTORS THAT CAN (KINDA) SING AND CAST SINGERS THAT CAN ACT. I know you won’t listen to me but you really really really really should.

I know you’re called “The Miserables” but I walked out of the movie wanting to throw Prozac at myself and hide all the razor blades. Tone. Down. The. Angst. PLEASE. 

People breaking into random song is quite uncomfortable when the camera is constantly two inches from their face and their heads are 10 ft. Tall. Just sayin’.

The whole “dancing and singing on the dead guy’s coffin was new.

Take every song Marius sings and change the lyrics to “Mickey Mouse….Mickey Mouse…Mickey Mouse!!!”.

I am not in the legion of people that loved Anne Hathaway. Sorry.

You made us think that everyone in this movie is so freaking poverty rdden that there is no possibility I would believe that random people would chuck down the chair that is likely their families inheritance for a couple of college kids to declare a fruitless war on France.

OMFG, Russel Crow made me want to jump off a bridge, too. (With an even more resounding and totally unnecessary “WHACK!”) I’d say he was a pansy but that would be an insult to pansies everywhere.

The sewers of Paris are way better in the imagination of theater goers. Well, BETTER is a relative term. Let’s go with “Way less vomit-inducing” and leave it at that, shall we?

I had more fun reenacting Les Miz with my dog. Vive le Frances, Bitches!

Other than that it was an OK movie.

The end.

P.S. Merry Christmas!