One of the things I am constantly encountering, in reading Les Miserables (look, reading a twelve hundred page novel is a very consuming thing, so it merits lots of posts), is discovering that Hugo's version of events frequently makes far more sense than the musical's. I keep going, "Ohh, that's why that happens!"
. . . of course, this is not always the case. Les Mis is, at heart, a melodrama that relies a lot on coincidence and dramatic events for the plot to run smoothly. Hugo takes the time to explain things (OH GOD, does he ever take the time to explain things) which helps a LOT in making everything believeable in the context of the story, but sometimes I just end up giggling anyway.
Take, for example, Valjean's confession of his identity and subsequent arrest/not arrest, depending on the version we're talking about.
In the musical, Valjean confesses to a courtroom that happens to contain Javert, which apparently was thought to make for simpler storytelling, or something. (Believe me, I understand that the musical's writers had to streamline a lot of the plot to make it work, and they did a great job with it. That does not mean that every decision they made makes sense.) Then he flees the building and runs . . . directly to Fantine's sickroom, which is an interesting choice given that he has to know that Javert is in hot pursuit and knows all about Fantine.
It works out, though, because apparently Javert thought that attempting to apprehend a man he knows to be almost inhumanly strong without bringing any reinforcement would be a great idea! So Valjean tries to reason with him, but then just knocks him out and goes on his merry way. Nice policework, Javert.
In the novel, Javert has left the courtroom before Valjean arrives, which means it takes time for him to hear about the confession, which means that Valjean (who, Hugo establishes, is in something of a state of shock, anyway) visiting Fantine makes more sense, because he's got the time to do it. Or at least it's logical for him to think he does. And when Javert does show up at the hospital, he has the sense to bring backup with him, so his attempt to arrest Valjean is successful and no one gets knocked out.
However. It also causes the following scenario to play out:
Valjean, at the courtroom: ". . . and so, as you can see, I am irrefutably Jean Valjean, the dangerous convict and recidivist."
Everyone else: *stares*
Valjean: "Yup, Jean Valjean, that's me. The whole kindly mayor thing is a total fabrication and I am the bad guy."
Everyone else: *stares* "W. T. F."
Valjean: "So, uh, whenever you want to get around to arresting me, I'm available."
Everyone else, including all members of the court empowered to make arrests: *stares*
Valjean: ". . . right. Okay. I'll, uh, be back in Montreuil-sur-mer, then. You know. For whenever you're ready to make the arrest."
Everyone else: *stares*
Valjean: *leaves*
Javert, from the next town over: "Am I the only person in this entire godforsaken novel who knows how to do my job?"
This makes more sense when you're reading it, since Hugo spends a lot of time playing up how "Monsieur le maire Madeleine" is a much-loved and worshipped pillar of the regional community, but then afterwards it's like, "Wait, did they really all just stand there and look at him?" And then I find myself thinking, "Man, Javert should have been there," and then the musical goes, "Nope, that wouldn't have worked either." And then I give up trying to make sense of a story that at one point relies on Valjean's ability to scale a sheer fifteen-foot wall and go on with my life.
. . . of course, this is not always the case. Les Mis is, at heart, a melodrama that relies a lot on coincidence and dramatic events for the plot to run smoothly. Hugo takes the time to explain things (OH GOD, does he ever take the time to explain things) which helps a LOT in making everything believeable in the context of the story, but sometimes I just end up giggling anyway.
Take, for example, Valjean's confession of his identity and subsequent arrest/not arrest, depending on the version we're talking about.
In the musical, Valjean confesses to a courtroom that happens to contain Javert, which apparently was thought to make for simpler storytelling, or something. (Believe me, I understand that the musical's writers had to streamline a lot of the plot to make it work, and they did a great job with it. That does not mean that every decision they made makes sense.) Then he flees the building and runs . . . directly to Fantine's sickroom, which is an interesting choice given that he has to know that Javert is in hot pursuit and knows all about Fantine.
It works out, though, because apparently Javert thought that attempting to apprehend a man he knows to be almost inhumanly strong without bringing any reinforcement would be a great idea! So Valjean tries to reason with him, but then just knocks him out and goes on his merry way. Nice policework, Javert.
In the novel, Javert has left the courtroom before Valjean arrives, which means it takes time for him to hear about the confession, which means that Valjean (who, Hugo establishes, is in something of a state of shock, anyway) visiting Fantine makes more sense, because he's got the time to do it. Or at least it's logical for him to think he does. And when Javert does show up at the hospital, he has the sense to bring backup with him, so his attempt to arrest Valjean is successful and no one gets knocked out.
However. It also causes the following scenario to play out:
Valjean, at the courtroom: ". . . and so, as you can see, I am irrefutably Jean Valjean, the dangerous convict and recidivist."
Everyone else: *stares*
Valjean: "Yup, Jean Valjean, that's me. The whole kindly mayor thing is a total fabrication and I am the bad guy."
Everyone else: *stares* "W. T. F."
Valjean: "So, uh, whenever you want to get around to arresting me, I'm available."
Everyone else, including all members of the court empowered to make arrests: *stares*
Valjean: ". . . right. Okay. I'll, uh, be back in Montreuil-sur-mer, then. You know. For whenever you're ready to make the arrest."
Everyone else: *stares*
Valjean: *leaves*
Javert, from the next town over: "Am I the only person in this entire godforsaken novel who knows how to do my job?"
This makes more sense when you're reading it, since Hugo spends a lot of time playing up how "Monsieur le maire Madeleine" is a much-loved and worshipped pillar of the regional community, but then afterwards it's like, "Wait, did they really all just stand there and look at him?" And then I find myself thinking, "Man, Javert should have been there," and then the musical goes, "Nope, that wouldn't have worked either." And then I give up trying to make sense of a story that at one point relies on Valjean's ability to scale a sheer fifteen-foot wall and go on with my life.
Tags:
From:
no subject
Sure! The Rift can be such a
convenient plot deviceenormous help in these matters.(More fic from you is always yay. :D Oh, probably, this is me we're talking about. I am making a conscious effort to avoid the Adversary Slash Template of Cliched Doom, though.)
From:
no subject
And I'm sure I could arrange for Norrington to be in Wales for some reason or another ... *plotplotplot*
(Well. All of my new stuff has been for the Axis Powers Hetalia kink meme, since school started. But I've been bloody prolific over there. ^_^; If anyone can avoid cliches, it's you.)
From:
no subject
He is in Wales investigating! Things! It's been too long since I saw the second movie, so I am unhelpful. XD
(Writing is good! And I'm trying. I love adversary slash, but it's all the same, you know? Hatred sublimated in sexual blah blah blah, and then the plot continues but They Shall Always Remember What Passed Between Them. ENOUGH ALREADY.)
From:
no subject
(ACK I KNOW. Which is too bad, because if it weren't for the cliches, adversary slash would be my favorite thing ever.)
From:
no subject
Maybe Wales was, uh, the most random detour ever? Because there was a tip, possibly planted by Jack himself to keep Norrington occupied?
(I knoooooow. I've always loved it, but it's so rare to find something that hasn't been done to death already. I'm not claiming my fic is so original or anything, but I can promise you this: It doesn't end with a Deeper Mutual Understanding Through Buttsecks.)
From:
no subject
Heee. Jack would totally do that. *makes a note*
(That's all I ask. *grin* That's all anyone can ever ask, really.)
From:
no subject
He so would. He'd plant all these outrageous clues and Norrington would have a new pile to sift through every morning. He'd be able to eliminate most of them, though, because the vast majority would be, like, "In Mother Hubbard's cupboard." But Wales is A Possibility! Everyone knows strange things happen in Cardiff, and Captain Jack is certainly a strange thing.
(It's the simple things in life and all that.)
From:
no subject
(You know you've been in fandom too long when non-majikal buttsecks is one of 'the simple things in life.')
From:
no subject
(Oh, god, I know, right? Oh fandom.)
From:
no subject
Jack S: Ohh, yes, Harkness--owes me a favor, doesn't he? After our help with the *hand gesture* squiddy things *more specific gesture* with the mouths ...
Anamaria: An' after you blew him.
Jack S: I was coming to that, my siren. Perch on a rock and look fetching, will you? Your dulcet tones are giving me a headache.
Anamaria: *headsmack* I'd leave your crew for his, but one Captain Jack's as bad as--
Jack S: I'm thinking France. What do you think, France?
Anamaria: France?
Jack S: For Norrington. He could become acquainted with mayonnaise, which would be a fruitful acquaintance, wouldn't you think? *actually does think* Or an oily acquaintance. Yolky, perhaps.
Anamaria: ... mebbe they need me in Cardiff.
From:
no subject
Anamaria should totally join Torchwood. Jack S can try to spin it as sharing the best and brightest of his crew, and Jack H can be all, "Uh huh. What do you want?" even as he hatches Plots for Anamaria. (Yeah, I need to cut it out with the random dorky capitalization now.)
From:
no subject
And the world needs Anamaria/Martha SO BADLY.From:
no subject
YES OMG. THIS MUST HAPPEN.