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At length, by dint of mounting on each other's backs, aiding themselves with the skeleton of the staircase, climbing up the walls, clinging to the ceiling, slashing away at the very brink of the trap-door, the last one who offered resistance, a score of assailants, soldiers, National Guardsmen, municipal guardsmen, in utter confusion, the majority disfigured by wounds in the face during that redoubtable ascent, blinded by blood, furious, rendered savage, made an irruption into the apartment on the first floor. There they found only one man still on his feet, Enjolras. Without cartridges, without sword, he had nothing in his hand now but the barrel of his gun whose stock he had broken over the head of those who were entering. He had placed the billiard table between his assailants and himself; he had retreated into the corner of the room, and there, with haughty eye, and head borne high, with this stump of a weapon in his hand, he was still so alarming as to speedily create an empty space around him. A cry arose:

"He is the leader! It was he who slew the artillery-man. It is well that he has placed himself there. Let him remain there. Let us shoot him down on the spot."

"Shoot me," said Enjolras.

And flinging away his bit of gun-barrel, and folding his arms, he offered his breast.

The audacity of a fine death always affects men. As soon as Enjolras folded his arms and accepted his end, the din of strife ceased in the room, and this chaos suddenly stilled into a sort of sepulchral solemnity. The menacing majesty of Enjolras disarmed and motionless, appeared to oppress this tumult, and this young man, haughty, bloody, and charming, who alone had not a wound, who was as indifferent as an invulnerable being, seemed, by the authority of his tranquil glance, to constrain this sinister rabble to kill him respectfully. His beauty, at that moment augmented by his pride, was resplendent, and he was fresh and rosy after the fearful four and twenty hours which had just elapsed, as though he could no more be fatigued than wounded. It was of him, possibly, that a witness spoke afterwards, before the council of war: "There was an insurgent whom I heard called Apollo." A National Guardsman who had taken aim at Enjolras, lowered his gun, saying: "It seems to me that I am about to shoot a flower."

Twelve men formed into a squad in the corner opposite Enjolras, and silently made ready their guns.

Then a sergeant shouted:

"Take aim!"

An officer intervened.

"Wait."


And addressing Enjolras:

"Do you wish to have your eyes bandaged?"

"No."

"Was it you who killed the artillery sergeant?"

"Yes."

Grantaire had waked up a few moments before.

Grantaire, it will be remembered, had been asleep ever since the preceding evening in the upper room of the wine-shop, seated on a chair and leaning on the table.

He realized in its fullest sense the old metaphor of "dead drunk." The hideous potion of absinthe-porter and alcohol had thrown him into a lethargy. His table being small, and not suitable for the barricade, he had been left in possession of it. He was still in the same posture, with his breast bent over the table, his head lying flat on his arms, surrounded by glasses, beer-jugs and bottles. His was the overwhelming slumber of the torpid bear and the satiated leech. Nothing had had any effect upon it, neither the fusillade, nor the cannon-balls, nor the grape-shot which had made its way through the window into the room where he was. Nor the tremendous uproar of the assault. He merely replied to the cannonade, now and then, by a snore. He seemed to be waiting there for a bullet which should spare him the trouble of waking. Many corpses were strewn around him; and, at the first glance, there was nothing to distinguish him from those profound sleepers of death.

Noise does not rouse a drunken man; silence awakens him. The fall of everything around him only augmented Grantaire's prostration; the crumbling of all things was his lullaby. The sort of halt which the tumult underwent in the presence of Enjolras was a shock to this heavy slumber. It had the effect of a carriage going at full speed, which suddenly comes to a dead stop. The persons dozing within it wake up. Grantaire rose to his feet with a start, stretched out his arms, rubbed his eyes, stared, yawned, and understood.

A fit of drunkenness reaching its end resembles a curtain which is torn away. One beholds, at a single glance and as a whole, all that it has concealed. All suddenly presents itself to the memory; and the drunkard who has known nothing of what has been taking place during the last twenty-four hours, has no sooner opened his eyes than he is perfectly informed. Ideas recur to him with abrupt lucidity; the obliteration of intoxication, a sort of steam which has obscured the brain, is dissipated, and makes way for the clear and sharply outlined importunity of realities.

Relegated, as he was, to one corner, and sheltered behind the billiard-table, the soldiers whose eyes were fixed on Enjolras, had not even noticed Grantaire, and the sergeant was preparing to repeat his order: "Take aim!" when all at once, they heard a strong voice shout beside them:

"Long live the Republic! I'm one of them."

Grantaire had risen. The immense gleam of the whole combat which he had missed, and in which he had had no part, appeared in the brilliant glance of the transfigured drunken man.

He repeated: "Long live the Republic!" crossed the room with a firm stride and placed himself in front of the guns beside Enjolras.

"Finish both of us at one blow," said he.

And turning gently to Enjolras, he said to him:

"Do you permit it?"

Enjolras pressed his hand with a smile.

This smile was not ended when the report resounded.

Enjolras, pierced by eight bullets, remained leaning against the wall, as though the balls had nailed him there. Only, his head was bowed.

Grantaire fell at his feet, as though struck by a thunderbolt.

A few moments later, the soldiers dislodged the last remaining insurgents, who had taken refuge at the top of the house. They fired into the attic through a wooden lattice. They fought under the very roof. They flung bodies, some of them still alive, out through the windows. Two light-infantrymen, who tried to lift the shattered omnibus, were slain by two shots fired from the attic. A man in a blouse was flung down from it, with a bayonet wound in the abdomen, and breathed his last on the ground. A soldier and an insurgent slipped together on the sloping slates of the roof, and, as they would not release each other, they fell, clasped in a ferocious embrace. A similar conflict went on in the cellar. Shouts, shots, a fierce trampling. Then silence. The barricade was captured.

The soldiers began to search the houses round about, and to pursue the fugitives.

---



Seeing the movie again tomorrow but one of the best aspects was the small bits of focus given to the book canon, such as all the Enjolras/Grantaire stuff. And the actor playing Grantaire is so fucking obsessed with it that his twitter is my new favourite thing.





Also, if you come out of this experience shipping: Enjolras/Eponine, Enjolras/Marius, or even Marius/Cosette, allow me to quote Valjean at you: You are wrong, and always have been wrong.

Marius/Eponine
Enjolras/Grantaire
or
gtfo

they all die anyway, there is literally no way to move forward from this point.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Crying from all the love. Fuck.
Yeah it's a bit... Like that. That's why I need you to read my blogspot post. The first half is movie-review stuff, but the second half is like me flailing over tiny aspects of Enjolras/Grantaire book stuff that made it into the film. You will just die. And cry. And die.
Okay, so, I read your blogspot post yesterday, but it was 1AM when I finished and I couldn't think in English well enough anymore to write in the language! I mainly skipped the part that was about the film itself, like your review of the actors, though.


Basically all these excerpts from the book left me, well... Just imagine me sobbing in a corner, my face in my hands and muttering, "Grantaire *sobsobsob* Enjolras *soooooob* Let me hold you *sob* Your love was doomed and beautiful *full on weeping*"
So yeah.

Also, when I read the definition of Grantaire and Enjolras' relationship, I came to the conclusion that I AM a Grantaire, and that made me sad - because there's obviously no hope for me.
I'm R, not only in the "that which we lack attracts us" aspect, because it's a somewhat universal truth, but in every other aspect. The lack of passion for everything but a few incredible people; the impossibily of believing in oneself coupled with the will to champion greatness; the feeling of only being tolerated... Every single aspect. Oh, except the one where I'm supposed to be an alcoholic - I eat, instead.
We have a phrase in French to describe people who love those who are greater than them. We say "un ver de terre amoureux d'une étoile", a worm in love with a star. That's how Grantaire felt. And Enjolras never looked down until the very end.

I saw Les Mis 3 times in the span of 2 months. The first time, a friend pretty much forced me to tag along. The only songs I knew were On My Own (the Rachel Berry version) and I Dreamed A Dream (the Susan Boyle version). You can imagine how enchanted and heartbroken I was when I came out. So I went back twice more and it was marvellous.
My Valjean was Colm Wilkinson, so I'm really glad he has a cameo in the film!
God, I can't believe I have two more months to wait before it's released here. Dammit.

I don't remember when I started shipping R/E, really. I can't even recall whether it came from the book or the musical. It must have been a combination of the two, really.
So, spoil me this: is Drink With Me included in the film? Because it's one of my favourite songs. I like having a bit of a cry when I listen to it and it's a great E/R moment for me.
In the production I saw, I believe "it is time for us all to decide who we are" was directed at Marius, but I forgive it because, in Drink With Me, after R's lines, the director had Enjolras physically lifting R off the table he was sitting at, backing him against a wall and, with a firm hand on his shoulder, talk quite passionately while R just stands there, all at once fascinated and completely discouraged. You could SEE he wants to believe in everything E says, and the only thing that keeps him there is E himself.
There's a bit of that in the 25th anniversary concert, isn't it?

I just now realised that my favourite songs from the musical are all Les Amis' songs. Because apparently, I like pain.
in Drink With Me, after R's lines, the director had Enjolras physically lifting R off the table he was sitting at, backing him against a wall and, with a firm hand on his shoulder, talk quite passionately while R just stands there, all at once fascinated and completely discouraged.

Oh my god I am like, sick with jealousy. Oh my god.

The 25th definitely does have a bit of it - there is a lot of face-touching and stuff - though I don't love the actor playing R in that. It's become the thing to make Grantaire kind of gruff, rough and boisterous, a clown rather than a cynic, and a drinker rather than an alcoholic.. and that's actually just... not R at all... and I am SO glad for George in the film because his R is more delicate, in a way, and, as I said, sassy, and vocally is just sweet and clear as a bell, which is exactly the way he's done in the original London production - George, vocally and tonally is by far the closest to the original production and to the book. Same goes for Aaron as Enjolras - over time, E has gone, in the show, from a beautiful, righteous innocent to a stern general - they switched from a young man to a deep, strong voice - but Aaron brings it back to that... purity. They. are. perfect, they are perfect, they are so perfect, Cecile, I can't wait for you to see it.

Except for Drink With Me isn't included in full - people keep bugging George about it. it was filmed, but trimmed down, it was one of the bits that didn't make the final cut because the film's first cut was nearly 5 hours long. So it's just the opening verse and Marius's - not Grantaire's - but I have my fingers and toes crossed for some "extended perfomance special features" on the DVD. so, so hopeful.

Ah yeah, my Grantaire was definitely the gruff, rough and boisterous kind. Like, the first time I saw it I was as high as you can be in the theatre and couldn't see much, but as soon as R opened his mouth, I knew he was supposed to be drunk. I wish they'd make him more... emotionally fragile, since it's really what his problem is.

My Enjolras was a bit of a stern general as well, although not as much as in the 25th anniversary concert for instance where he's downright patronising and slightly mean.
Also, can I just say, in the musical, Enjolras gets the award for silliest line? And it makes me laugh every. Single. Time. "Lamarque is dead". The fact that he just repeats what Gavroche said in song form KILLS me. It's quite unfortunate because it's supposed to be this intense, life-changing moment but... I can't.

I wish I could still download films. I wouldn't even feel bad because I know I'll go see the actual film when it comes out. I'll most likely go insane before February if Les Mis keeps on indaving the internet. How can it not, though?
Or a steaming link. Hmmm... I wonder if you can actually stream 2 hours of film...
seeing as we like pain, this is a particularly good E/R staging of "drink with me."

http://youtu.be/sJmp5yjZHtY