THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (2004)

The music WILL inevitably stick in your craw, whether you resist or not!

Raise your hand if you've never seen the stage version of The Phantom of the Opera? (Raising hand)

OK, now raise your hand if you are NOT a Broadway geek (perhaps you pointed and laughed at the "drama kids" in high school; or you are the only one of your peers that didn't see RENT when it was in town)? (Raising hand... "I saw Cats in 1987, but was disappointed to find out that it was just people on stage in creepy cat costumes...")

So, since I'm a blank slate as far as having any "phan" (eek!) background whatsoever, I'll be looking at Phantom for what it is: a movie. As a movie, however, I couldn't help but think it would make a better stage spectacle. Crashing chandeliers and underground-river gondola rides can be done easily on film, but I can imagine it would be much more impressive on a stage.

Gerard Butler (previously best know for playing the sidekick to Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider 2, of all things!) plays The Phantom, a disfigured ghost of a man who lives in the catacombs under the Paris Opera. Disfigured in the best movie sense, that is—in movie terms, he's a hottie who give good eye through the fashionable white mask that covers only half his face. Sure, he's a little crusty underneath, but otherwise he is worthy of a "rrrowwwrrr!" and should have the young girls swooning. He has a surprisingly healthy pallor for someone who never goes outside, and has either an excellent tailor, or is super-crafty with a sewing machine.

Anyways, The Phantom covets the beautiful young Christine (Emmy Rossum), and has apparently coached her in singing lessons through the mirror for who knows how long. He thinks the time is ripe for her to dethrone the Opera's reigning diva, the outrageous Carlotta (played by scene-stealing Minnie Driver, who provides much-needed comic relief and liveliness to the proceedings), and place Christine in center stage—he does have box seats, after all. But that may not be all he wants for Christine, if you know what I mean... if only it weren't for that meddling kid, Raoul!

So, without any stretch of the imagination, what you have is basically a take on Beauty and the Beast. Beast wants woman. Woman runs into arms of pretty yet dull young man (Raoul, played by pretty yet dull Patrick Wilson). Beast kills random people. Beast kidnaps woman. Young man must save her. Woman must choose between the two. All of this explained through the repetition of what seems like only two or three songs over and over.

Even in a the relatively small theater where I saw the movie, the score is so dominating that whenever The Phantom appears (with his ever-present theme music, of course), the blast of the organ blows your hair back and you have to grasp the arms of your chair to steady yourself. If this was a concert film, that would be one thing, but for the love of all that's holy, tone it down a bit on your sound mixing, Mr. Schumacher, or you're going to knock little old ladies out of their seats!

Emmy Rossum's angelic face has one continuous expression throughout the movie: her eyebrows paired like an accent aigu and accent grave above her ever-wide eyes—a look that means to portray innocence, lust, confusion, and fear... simultaneously, at all times. For some she may have the voice of a songbird, but combined with Andrew Lloyd Webber's repetitive songs, her very high lilt kinda made me edgy after the umpteenth refrain. She did what she could, I suppose, with her virginal-I'm-waiting-for-another-daddy-naïvete, but I kinda wanted to slap her into reality. Daddy's dead, and The Phantom isn't thinking of you like a daughter anymore.

Who will Christine choose? Will we get to see The Phantom's face? Will Raoul save the day? Will we have to hear that damn song again?

A frenzied cluster of applause erupted from the drama-girls section of the theater when the credits started rolling. "Man, that was some fucked-up shit!" exclaimed a young man to his friend on the way out of the theater. In one of the rows, a 40-something woman earnestly explained the final scenes to her baffled cohorts, "You see, The Phantom was still MOURNING after all that time! The rose was left by HIM!" ("Ahhhhh..." they nodded, finally comprehending the obvious).

Afterward, my pal and I spent the walk home making up interpretive lyrics to the over-the-top Andrew Lloyd Webber-esque music. For all of its cheese and over-the-top romantic interludes, The Phantom of the Opera (the stage production) was inarguably a huge hit with audiences. This version certainly may not be the screen adaptation that the fans hoped for, but it just *might* cause newbies to seek out the (presumably) better live show. The music WILL inevitably stick in your craw, whether you resist or not!