Now he's a critic...

“He respected learned men greatly;

he respected the ignorant still more…”

- of Bishop Myriel

Victor Hugo: Les Miserables

“We can either take the Ferry to the Islands or go to the theatre” I said to him.

We had the evening open and I was responding to his question, “What should we do this evening?  It’s your home town.”  He thought a moment and said, “Let’s do the theatre.”

“It might be sold out because the show is tonight,” he continued, “but do your best.”

I left the hotel and headed for King Street between John and Simcoe to the Royal Alexandra Theatre to see if I could get tickets for the performance.  It was the summer of 1992 and we had come to Toronto to speak for the ‘Combined Meeting of the Orthopaedic Associations of the English Speaking World.’  I know, you would think they could have lengthened the name of the conference just a little!

In those days, I was the research director for a large orthopedic group in Columbia, Missouri.  My mentor, Dr. R had submitted a paper that had been accepted for presentation.  At the same meeting, he had been asked to supervise a surgery workshop that he also accepted.  Unfortunately they were at the same time!  Hence, my presence…I presented the paper (which I had written) and he did the workshop.

The venue…

The ‘Royal Alex’ was built around the turn of the 20^th Century.  It had a good run for several decades, but with the advent of movies during the years of the Second World War, reduced interest in live theatre, and a declining neighborhood…the Old Girl went into decline…eventually sold in the early 1960s. 

Oddly enough, it was purchased by an immigrant ‘discount store’ owner much to the chagrin of Toronto society.  Would this man tear it down and put in another discount store?

Before it was over Ed Mirvish, purveyor of Honest Ed’s Discount Emporium would bring back a thriving theatre community to the city.  In addition he would build another theatre on the same city block (Princess of Wales); purchase and restore London’s historic Old Vic Theatre.  This pariah in the eye of the public would become the darling of Canadian Theatre in his time and his family to this day – so much for public opinion!!

Opportunity missed…

It was one of the older books on my father’s bookshelf.  It was of 5x7 inches (12.7x17.7cm) in dimension, 2.5 inches (6.35cm) thick and 749 pages in length.  It was one his favorites, but by the time I realized its existence, it was well worn with a binding that had separated from the pages – not the kind of book a ‘busy’ teenage boy would be interested in or careful with.  Not a collector’s item, this early 1900s copy of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables had an intimidating look.

While he suggested with enthusiasm I read the book, it wouldn’t be this copy…it was too fragile.  I made note…the kind of attention a son pays to a father’s suggestion – you know, the ‘I’ll take it under advisement’ nod – and moved on with my life.  I would, however, recollect how frequently he referred to life and Christian redemption lessons he attributed to Hugo’s work.

Back to the Royal Alex…

In the end, I would remember the seats (Right side of the house H 4,5) and the woman who sat on my left (H6).  Well, I wouldn’t remember her name, but surely the experience.  Since I had NOT read the book, I did not have any idea about the story line…it would be brand new. 

The lights dimmed, the audience hushed, the orchestra began, and in an instant I was captured, mesmerized and yes overwhelmed as the story unfolded. In fact, and the reason I remember the woman on my left, is that we both openly wept at death of Fantine.  By the time the first act closed with ‘One Day More,’ I felt drained. The music of Schönerg, the Boubil lyrics brought to English by Herbert Kretzmer…all of it simply had drained me like a washcloth wrung out in the firm, well worn hands of a French farmer’s wife.  I didn’t know what was coming in the second act, but I was certain it could not be as totally absorbing as the first…I was wrong!

At intermission, it was clear my mentor had been moved, but it was also clear not as much as I, nor the woman to my left.  He and I retired to the basement bar for refreshment and I slipped into the men’s room to stuff my pockets with toilet paper in anticipation of the unknown second act…Eponine and Gavroche shot, Marius at death’s door, Valjean singing ‘Bring him home’ – wave after wave, unrelenting, deeply touching…the ‘paper’ an excellent move!  The voices…all the voices – principles and others, were astounding.  Where would one find such an array of talent?  I am not sure I could have taken any more. 

Great matters…

Injustice…judgment…Justice regained…courage…virtue, unrequited and freely given love…redemption – all of it set to towering music and richly moving lyric.  The first few lines of “Do you hear the People Sing” reflect this.

In the first act injustice drives these words:

“Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!”

In the reprise it is redemption:

“Do you hear the people sing?
Lost in the valley of the night
It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light
For the wretched of the earth
There is a flame that never dies
Even the darkest nights will end and the sun will rise…”

One a cry of anger – the other a cry for and recognition of hope.

Over – not done…

As the curtain came down, I turned to the woman beside me and smiling said, “It was simply wonderful sobbing with you this evening.”  Through equally swollen eyes, she returned the smile and quietly said, “For me too.” 

Since that chance evening in Toronto with Dr. R, I have seen the production five times in different cities in different countries on different stages.  The huge themes of the story and production have never failed to reach into my breast and touch in my heart.  In later years, I thanked him for kindling what has become a lifelong love of musical theater…for surely he did.

A movie??

For many years I also wondered if this story would ever be turned into a film…rather a musical film.  I learned by happy coincidence, in the summer, it had and would be released for the Christmas holiday.  I was excited!  It is not hard to imagine how our family spent part of Christmas day.

I suppose anytime one has developed a familiarity with a story, or for that matter a thing repeatedly engaged, change can prove a little disconcerting.  If one has listened to a particular cast recording with great regularity, a different cast provides subtle, but noticeable variances.  I have listened to this music untold numbers of times and have images and sounds in my mind to which I have become accustomed. 

And so it was, the film was NOT the stage production.  The voices were not all the caliber to which I had become accustomed from the stage and recordings. And yet…and yet the intimacy of the film, the attention to historical detail…all brought a gritty intimacy I had not before experienced.

There is little doubt the musical productions all…all have deeply touched me, but the granularity and starkness of the film provided the richest texture, touch and tone the stage simply could not bring.

My own confession…

In all these years, I am a bit embarrassed to say, I had never read Les Miserables.  I had depended on the broadest of brush strokes provided by live theater, and now the palate knife of sharper edges from the film.  I was compelled, decades later to act on my “I’ll take it under advisement,” and read the story.

I am now well into Hugo’s book, and am overwhelmed to an almost unspeakable degree with his ability to reach from 1862 into my brain…through the neurons and circulation of my bodily workings…and deeply into the 2013 rhythmically beating chambers of my heart. 

He writes his now familiar characters and storyline with genius and delicacy.  He pens the blackest of hearts that make one shudder with discomfort…the nauseating unrelenting gravity of injustice upon injustice…the purest of souls that make one soar with aspiration…the fall and resurrection of broken lives that make one want to make a difference…to be a better man (woman)…to find one’s place in the human condition. Indeed, he reveals the ‘little of ourselves’ found in all of his characters.  It is one of the most revealing and thoughtful books I have ever read.

Toronto to San Diego – not so far…

Dr. R and I could just as easily have taken the ferry to the Toronto Islands that summer’s night in 1992, but we didn’t…we didn’t and result of that evening’s experience has rippled through and influenced much of my life. 

The ferry ride would have been a pleasant, but soon forgotten, way to spend a summer’s evening.  Les Miserables was also a lovely way to spend a summer’s evening…soon forgotten?  Are you kidding??

From the water, we would have had delightful glances of the Toronto Skyline illuminating the evening sky.  Les miserable, on the other hand, has richly illuminated decades of my life.

So as I look to the horizon of the coming year, I find myself with optimism humming...

“…One Day More…”

- ted