"Phantom
of the Opera"
If the Broadway musical was brilliant,
then the movie version of Frank Lloyd Webber’s renowned
classic is perfection.
Hollywood’s repeated attempts to improve on Broadway
productions by putting them on the big screen are seldom
successful. “Phantom” is one, big,
beautiful exception to the rule.
The
magnificent sets, costumes and now legendary songs take the audience
into the story in a way that Broadway stages, no matter how elaborate,
can never quite accomplish.
My first
exposure to the dark, intriguing story of the phantom at the opera
house was the silent movie which helped make Lon Chaney, Sr. a
household name. His grotesque features were burned into my
brain when the mask came off near the end of the tale. I can
picture it even now.
“Phantom” is a story of obsession, attempted
possession, pity and self pity—a whole basketful of
self-destructive traits.
Our
heroine, Christine Daae, has a big voice and an even bigger
heart. Her newfound “phantom” music coach
recaptures her memories of a wonderful, loving father who died too
soon. The phantom is, to her, the mentor who was snatched
from her prematurely through death. He is the guiding light who most
girls would cherish as they develop into womanhood.
Emma
Rossum is exquisite in the role of Christine. Her Golden
Globe nomination should turn into the real thing.
Gary
Butler does an adequate job as the phantom. His voice is
fine, but he does not bring enough depth to the deranged, horribly
scarred character, whose rescue from the freak show as a disturbed and
troubled child only lead him to a sheltered, yet miserable life in the
dark, dingy bowels of the opera house.
Miranda
Richardson gives her usual, highly professional performance as his
secret, self-appointed “governess”.
Minnie
Driver (“Good Will Hunting”) actually steals the
screen with her exaggerated, but lovely portrayal of the out-of-tune
Carlotta, the buxom soprano with a canon for a voice which belches out
note after note that miss the mark.
“Phantom of the Opera” is a well-told
tale—running the gamut of human emotion. True, it
is a love it or hate it production, but that is better than being
lukewarm. Webber aficionados
will be enthralled with the results and relish the
experience. For them, the time (two hours and twenty minutes)
will fly. Webber detractors will feel like they are forever
running through mud and they will gloat and see
“Phantom” as just another feeble attempt by
Hollywood to make something out of nothing.
For me,
“Phantom” would be a luscious cinema treat whether
or not I had ever heard of the ingenious Mr. Webber.
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