A terrified horse bolts, severing the reins tying it to its cart, and the cart rolls over some poor sap, pinning him down by the axle. People gather about, nervously looking around for someone to DO SOMETHING. We’ve all been there. Not necessarily with bolting horses and runaway carts, but when it comes down to offering help in desperate situations, most folks tend to take a passive attitude. Or, as my grandmother used to say, “No woman considers herself a feminist when the Titanic is sinking.”
This is one of the rare moments in the show where we really sigh, “You recognize someone because of his strength? Oh, hunnee, no! How is that even possible?”
We recognize someone by their eyes, their Dumbo ears, or even their unibrow. We may recognize someone because he’s a bad joke teller or a moocher. The neighbor who always takes the last beer out of our fridge? Yes, we’ll remember him. Same for the fellow who laughs like a hyena. Unforgettable. But to nail a guy because of his bench press stats? Highly unlikely.
Valjean realizes that he can only live with himself if he’s truthful. So there we have it: the baring of the chest again to reveal his prison number:
Coat gets ripped off again, showcasinga scrumptious vest. Ladies, time to swoon….
They share some intimate moments. We then definitely can envision them growing old together, sitting in matching rockers watching the sunset, sipping absinthe, hugging nuns: indulging their crazy a little. After all, if you have to grow old together, doesn’t it make sense to grow slightly nuts together as well? But Fantine has more DBVs with her daughter, and Valjean promises her to take care of Cosette.
So our little fantasy won’t be fulfilled. Fantine dies.