August 17th, 2014


hugo a go go

So I did the whole Hugo A Go Go thing on the weekend. We were studying Les Misérables in philosophy class as part of our examination of what is a 'good man' and I heard about the exhibition, so, ticking the 'educational' box, off I went.

I think it's really cool, these cities that tie together exhibitions, in this case, Les Misérables, the musical, was playing down in Melbs, so the library down there is hosting an exhibition on the man, the manuscript and the musical.

Yes, the actual manuscript of Les Misérables (gosh and golly!) with scribbles, and the inky quills used to write it, and photos of the man bent over his desk. Wow (though my favourite photo was of M. Hugo straddling a chair ala Christine Keeler, it bemused).

There were also old maps of Paris, photos taken by the Hugo family, books of like minded contemporaries (Dickens, Dumas, etc.), posters of film and theatre versions (the drawing of the 1920s Japanese actor as Jean Valjean will be haunting my nightmares for days to come), copies of international editions, a really cute mashup of all the various film versions to make a ten minute movie in the theatrette, costumes from the film and stage productions, videos, music, props, more posters. Yep, everything you ever wanted to know about Les Mis and then some.

I thought I'd have to elbow people out of the way to get a glimpse of the cabinets, but no. How sad. People, they have the frickin manuscript there. The Actual Book.
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The Brit(ish) List



It was supposed to be one of my all time highlights, ever, and even though I didn't have the golden ticket, I certainly had a brass one. But alas, it crash landed in one of those weeks where nothing went right.

Job under threat again, the possum punching holes in the walls and no possum catcher available for at least a week, ongoing flu, Lauren Bacall dying and the terrible suicide of Robin Williams, not only beloved bullwark of childhood, but also kicking over stones that should never ever be kicked over.

So instead of gleefully skipping hand in hand to the State Theatre to see Peter Capaldi and Jenna Coleman, for reals, presenting a preview of Peter's first proper Doctor Who episode as the Doctor, as part of the BBC world tour, and I actually had tickets, so hard to get, and the PC had crashed right went they went on sale and it was all so fraught and I still got those tickets and I'd been so looking forward to it, but no. No skipping. Just a funeral slog through the driving rain on one of the coldest, darkest days ever.

Sigh. Okay, I'm under a Mousetrap like compact not to spoil, so I wan't say anything except to say that I really, really enjoyed it (aside from the loud and obnoxious chap behind us, with the world's noisiest chip packet that went on forever).
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