Hi Hugh! Hugh, over here! It’s me! The Junkyard! Ooh we are so happy to hear that you are going to be in another movie, we just love watching you perform. It’s even better that you are going to be singing and dancing in this new film adaptation of Les Miserables! We do so love a man who can dance…and can sing…and who looks like you who does all these things! Particularly if you take your shirt off…and pour water all over your sweaty, gristly chest…and get dirty riding horses or cutting people with blades that come out of your masculine hands. What were we talking about again?
Oh. Right. Hugh. Musical Theatre.
Beefcakes. Les Mis adaptation. Ok then!
As a musical theatre major, I must admit that I kind of hate musical theatre. I know, I spent a good chunk of my life studying something I have serious contempt for, and yet I always give it another go no matter what shitty shows I have seen. I guess I’m a romantic at heart – just desperate to find that one show that won’t do me wrong, that will whisk me away and take me on a fantastical ride.
I loved being in Bat Boy in college – probably because there is an animal orgy, incest, rape-by-vampire-bat and murder. Yes. That is exactly why I loved taking part in it.
I also love Rock of Ages because it is a musical that knows exactly what it is and where it came from – it’s like being at the greatest karaoke bar in the world and everyone sounds amazing…and there are strippers, vomit and bathroom stall sex. Perfect!
See, I tend to like musical theatre that takes me to another place, where reality is out the window. I don’t find people singing in the rain entertaining. Who the fuck wants to sing in the rain? It’s cold and clammy and you will probably get blisters from your wet socks rubbing on your shoes. Les Miserables is one of the most universally loved shows in the history of Broadway and for reasons completely unknown to me. Having read the book, in French, I can say it is strategically drawn out to make the reader want to kill themselves. Or at least it seems to be the goal.
But now we have a reason to want to see a musical about a man with the same first and last name (Jean Valjean – way to dig deep, Victor Hugo) and a hooker with a heart of gold and a kid who dreams of castles on clouds: Hugh Jackman. The man sings, dances, entertains, looks fantastic naked – he’s exactly what Les Mis needs to get someone like me to see the movie! What? Is that sexist? No. It’s sexiest – as in “Sexiest Man Alive 2008!”. He wants me to look ladies, otherwise he wouldn’t be all wet and giving me those eyes.
I’m way too distracted to bother speculating on when the film will come out (if it ever does – no one is officially signed on yet) and if it will be as boring as the book was and the show was or if anyone other than someone who would bother to go see the actual show would see it in the movie theatre (that is, if they can get family to take them out of the retirement home to catch the matinee). All I know is if this man is in it, sports an accent and dumps a bucket of water on himself – then I’m all-in for my $10, a bucket of popcorn and some inappropriate moments with a bag of Twizzlers. Hell, it’s why anyone bothered to see Australia, amiright ladiez?