M, 99 minutes
3 Stars
Review by © Jane Freebury
The story of Jean Valjean has been told and retold on screen for decades, with contributions from stars like Gerard Depardieu and Liam Neeson to help explain the mindset of the brutalised and brutal ex-convict who managed to change the trajectory of his life. The outstanding performance by Aussie actor Hugh Jackman in the film of the stage musical, Les Miserables, a little over a decade ago, made Valjean’s plight and redemption one of the biggest hits ever in musical theatre.
There is nothing quite like the big screen for a sense of time and place, so critical to the Valjean story that was central to the classic Victor Hugo novel of 1862, Les Misérables. Early nineteenth century France was a foment of social and political unrest, and a tough place for ordinary people, if Hugo’s backstory to their suffering is any guide. In 1815, when Jean Valjean begins, the monarchy that had been disposed of was being restored, and Emperor Napoleon thrown out for good. The trickle-down effect can only be imagined.
When a hulking stranger, Jean Valjean, played by Gregory Gadebois with his usual substantial presence, arrives in a rural village in southern France, he is intensely unwelcome. It doesn’t help that he is a former convict, even if he has papers to confirm his pardon.
Indeed, Valjean is turned out of the local inn, attacked by a dog in the local graveyard where he looked for shelter, and pelted with stones in the street by young boys. Admittedly, he did stride right across their game of knucklebones. We as audience are also invited to be apprehensive, as the camera follows Valjean’s big broad back around, before his face comes into view. Who knows what his hulking figure signifies?
A hulking figure viewed with distrust and apprehension
No one will provide food or take him in, except for the local priest Myriel (Bernard Campan), aka Monseigneur Bienvenu. It is at best a mixed welcome at the priest’s home, as his housekeeper Magloire (Alexandra Lamy) feels free to convey her distrust, disapproval and fear of the intimidating, rough stranger. The gentle kindly host Myriel, once a man of the law who judged men and condemned them, is comfortable to allow the encounter to unfold as he assesses the situation. The stranger, an ex-convict with a yellow passport to prove he has served his time, has nowhere else to go. His social isolation is complete.
Even so, Valjean appears to represent a threat to both the females who live with his host. Is this apprehension of violence real or imagined? You would be right however about the fate of the silver candlesticks and cutlery that Magloire keeps locked away in a cupboard at night.
An intensely personal struggle, within an epic sweep of social upheaval
The discussions that take place at dinner in the kitchen as the evening unfolds reveal the character of Myriel, his sister Baptistine (Isabelle Carre), and the housekeeper. All different. Myriel, a humble man who has allowed a stranger into his house offering him a meal and a bed, doesn’t deserve Valjean’s sly observation that he is ‘a priest who lives with two women’. Baptistine, a frail woman dealing with ill-health, is a writer inclined to a more open-minded approach than the stern and strident housekeeper with strict, inhumane religious views, who advises Baptistine to lock her door that night. She doesn’t.
The scenes of Valjean whenever he is trekking across the wild, wintry countryside of Provence, a region stripped of its colour but none of its physical presence, are magnificent. Yet it is the struggle in the moments that take place in painterly interiors in this striking drama from Eric Besnard that is the most memorable.
Director and screenwriter Besnard has drawn from the first 100 pages of Hugo’s very lengthy classic literary text. This focus on Valjean alone may be rather heavy-going for some, especially if they have thrilled to the ultimate uplift of Les Mis.
The film’s publicity makes it clear that this Jean Valjean story derives from the first section of Hugo’s 1,400-page novel published in the 1860s. Here the protagonist of the classic book of fiction is separated from the epic sweep of social upheaval and colourful characters to which he belongs. Valjean is a repository for all human suffering and his life story famous for demonstrating the possibility of redemption. This is but the beginning.
Published in the Canberra Times on 24 April 2026. Jane’s reviews are also published on Rotten Tomatoes