Les Miserables is exactly the experience you get

If you're not on board from the first song that opens the film, you're sure to drown in the film's over indulgence.

King's Speech director Tom Hooper was certainly the ideal person to helm this adaptation set in 18th century France. He managed to capture some beautiful shots--we see Hugh Jackman against a plain wall with a cross on it, hinting at his religious struggles earlier in the film; Russell Crowe in blue uniform against a nicely juxtaposed red brick wall; and Aaron Tveit's character waving a flag over the city's barricade, it's all a set but the beauty of it is not lost on us.

We also get some nice performances from this A-list cast. Anne Hathaway's interpretation of perhaps the play's most famous tune "I dreamed a dream" was emotional. Amanda Seyfried's voice was tender and delicate, perfectly matching her character's persona. Isabelle Allen, playing Seyfried's younger character was exactly what you would hope for, also tender and evoking the right amount of pity. And Eddie Redmayne (My Week with Marilyn), is sure to breakthrough for his performance as a love struck rebel.

"So, Cristina, what's wrong with the movie?" Glad you asked.

Les Miserables fails at a film adaptation: it's too long and in translating it into a film narrative it became less narrative and more of a pre-recorded live Broadway musical. In attempting to capture the songs as direct sound (recorded at the time of filming) the film became so self-indulged in the performances it sacrificed basic technicalities. During long takes the characters moved in and out of focus and camera jerks were noticeable during long tracking sequences. It almost defeated the purpose of preserving or trying to capture these moments. In one scene, Jackman sings a soliloquy in a church--it's his repent for past sins, he wants to start over--but the close-ups, in trying to capture every tear, every bead of sweat, every spit producing vocal, are beyond wearing. Most exhausting of all was Russell Crowe's monotonous baritone voice.

Yeah, you probably guessed it, I don't care for musicals, but I can admire one when it's done right. Cabaret managed to balance song from story, even Sweeney Todd knew when to scale it back. What's wrong with Miserables is its beautiful moments, and there certainly were plenty--I mean the movie was like three frickin' hours long--were lost in the grand spectacle of it all. Almost every scene, every moment, every line of dialogue was milked for a tune. Screenwriter William Nicholson is to blame here. There was a lot that could have been cut out and more that could have been better translated for film, say a couple of normal conversations here or there.

But, as I said, there were some real moments captured here. There's a scene where Jackman's character is singing in a court yard and his vocals are accompanied by a church choir we know to be in the adjacent building--quite beautiful. Although I wasn't completely invested in the story, Jackman was at least believable. And who could hate Hathaway for that performance? Perhaps this is the performance that will earn her a little golden statue.

And I'm not quite sure if it's a compliment to say Sacha Baron Cohen's (The Dictator) scenes were the best part of the movie, but they were. His and Helena Bonham's Carter rendition of "Master of the House" added some much appreciated comic relief and a much needed montage to break up some of the tension from long close-ups throughout.

If you're on board from the get-go, you'll enjoy the proceeding three hours. There's much to be admired here, but ultimately stunning visuals and memorable tunes get lost in the over achievement of replicating a faithful adaptation of this much-loved Broadway hit.

Rating: C

Fassbender's Oscar snub is a shame

The taboo subject of sex addiction has been explored several times in the past, i.e. Showtime's Californication, American Psycho or the 2005 documentary I Am a Sex Addict, all of which portrayed it in a light-hearted manner. Shame is different. It's not a pretentious P.S.A. style narrative about the obvious hazards of addiction, nor does it intend to fully dissect or define sexual addiction. It explores something much deeper. It intends to portray one man's negative path of shattered emotional disconnection through his vices.

Much like in American Psycho, Brandon (Michael Fassbender) is a businessman living in New York, wearing the facade of a normal 30-something-year-old, but concealing some serious peccadilloes (minus the murdering thing). He has good self-control, able to work steadily during the day and release his demons (no pun intended) in a seedy night club, or sometimes even at work. He occasionally comes across a few slip-ups (ever hear of a USB drive?), but nothing he can't smooth talk his way out of. That is until his sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan) temporarily crashes in his apartment. Both share an awkward and apparent distant connection. They're both broken internally, but as much as she tries to reconnect with her brother, Brandon pushes away because it's obvious they share the same dark and concealed past that led him to his current state.

It's not a film about sex addiction, Brandon's addiction is the result of some past trauma the audience is left in the dark about. To say his character has relationship issues is an understatement, his emotion-void sexcapades--which there are plenty of--are testament to that. And in case you heard George Clooney's comment about Fassbender at the Golden Globes--he wasn't kidding. But I digress. As devoid Fassbender is of emotions in his racier scenes, he is able to produce some emotionally-packed scenes and one of the best performances of 2011, without a doubt.

Written and directed by Steve McQueen (not the one you're thinking of), he wastes little space in his film to get his point across. New York City was the perfect setting. A dimly lit restaurant, a shady downtown sidewalk and dark bars add the notion of an unclear mindset, a dark past Brandon is suppressing, waiting to re-submerge into light. But McQueen is technically savvy here, he shows us little of Brandon's past, only in emotional breakdowns and close-ups of his facial expressions. We know nothing about how Brandon came to be how he is, but as long as we watch for McQueen's technical cues, there's little need. In one scene Mulligan's character sings an original song. We don't need a thorough background, we deduct from the lyrics more-or-less what's happened. These scenes can stretch for a few minutes, but they perfectly execute the point.

Mulligan, known for her smaller independent roles, hasn't failed to impress yet. However, as fearless as her performance was, it lays in the intentionally dark shadows of Fassbender's performance.

 Harry Escott adds a hauntingly poignant score, appropriate to the film's theme.

It is a true shame some prestigious film institutions could not recognize an amazing performance from Fassbender, perhaps it was the taboo theme or the NC-17 rating? Either way, all I have to say is: Fuck you Academy!

Raing: A