What I've Learned

It is a tradition in our house that every Christmas vacation my wife, kids, and I gather around the piano and sing songs from Les Misérables. Now the kids are grown and married and their spouses join us in the tradition.

We first became familiar with the musical in the late 1990s when I checked out the 10th Anniversary Concert video from the Paris Public Library. As the family settled down to watch, my daughter, Sofrona, then a young teenager, asked, "What is this about?"

I'd read Victor Hugo's novel back when I was a teenager myself, so the details were a bit sketchy.

"A guy goes to prison for stealing a loaf of bread. After many years, he is let out on parole. He runs away and spends most of the novel being chased by a policeman. At the end, he has a chance to kill the policeman, but lets him go. That's about all I remember."

It turned out that an explanation of the plot wasn't needed. The story was easy to follow, even though the video wasn't a staging of the musical, but, as the title said, a concert. In 1995, producer Cameron Mackintosh brought together some of the best singers who had been in the musical over the previous 10 years, dressed them in costumes, and set them in a line of chairs across the stage of the Royal Albert Hall. One number at a time, the performers came forward to microphones and sang their way through the score.

Even in this bare-bones format, the plot was clear. And the music. Oh, the music. It instantly became my family's favorite. Even my youngest son, Daniel, who was in grade school at the time, could be heard singing the songs to himself.

In 2001, less than two weeks after the September 11 attacks, Sofrona; my oldest son, Joseph; and I drove to New York City and saw Les Miz on Broadway. Dust had barely settled from the towers and bodies were still being pulled from the rubble.

Les Misérables, like other shows in the area, had been playing to near-empty houses since the Trade Center had been hit. It turned out that that night, the 22nd of September, was the first time since the attacks that there was a decent-sized audience to play to. The actors and musicians, thankful that people were coming back to the theater, seemed to put something extra into their performance.

Fast forward, now, to 2012. The new movie version of Les Misérables opened in theaters on Christmas Day, and Sofrona; her husband, David; and I went to the first showing.

None of us were expecting to be wowed by the movie. We expected to enjoy it and to sing along under our breaths, but not be wowed.

I cried five times.

After the movie, I said to my daughter, "I can't believe that, despite us knowing everything that is going to happen and every line that is sung, this production could make me cry."

She nodded her agreement through her tears, unable to speak.

Perhaps the best review of the movie was given by a boy who sat behind us. In the middle of the show we got an unexpected five-minute intermission when the film broke and had to be repaired.

The house lights came up and conversation began to buzz. We heard the boy say, "This is a really good movie. This is a really good movie."

Another boy – his brother, I think – said, "The girl, Eponine, the one who likes Marius? I heard that she gets killed."

"This is still a really good movie," the first boy replied.

There was a tone of excitement and appreciation in their voices that made me proud, as if they had complimented a grandchild of mine.