Scene Anatomy 101: The Phantom of the Opera (1989)
Posted by George H. Sirois on 01.25.2006
Why did HE have to be involved?!
Every now and then, a movie comes along that precisely captures the reason why I do this column in the first place. It is a movie that has slipped through the cracks with both critics and audiences. It is disregarded by history, viewed as a mistake and a box office failure and nothing more. Yet upon further review – specifically looking at the quieter moments – one can see that the dismissal of the movie they are watching was unjust and undeserved.
In the specific case of this week's film, the 1989 version of The Phantom of the Opera, here we had a film that was released only a year after the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical opened on Broadway. It was a radically different approach, yes, but there was very little hype surrounding this film since it was distributed by 21st Century Film Corporation. Not 20th Century Fox, but 21st Century. This was a small company that producer/director/hack Menahem Golan built from the ashes of Cannon Films, the defunct distributor responsible for some of Will Helm's finest Misunderstood Masterpiece columns. 21st Century is also responsible for the remake of Night of the Living Dead and one of the two or three absolute worst comic book adaptations ever, Captain America.
The few television commercials that 21st Century could afford simply hyped Robert Englund in the title role, with a voice-over saying, "The Phantom of the Opera is alive, and taking revenge." The quick shots that were shown were incredibly violent, showing the potential for plenty of gore in the film. And there definitely was plenty of gore, which wound up being a major problem that I'll get to in a bit.
What the marketing campaign failed to show, was that there was a very unique take on the century-old tale going on. Starting in New York in 1989, a young Julliard college student named Christine Day (Jill Schoelen) who discovers the sheet music to Don Juan Triumphant, an opera by Erik Destler. When she uses the music as an audition piece, a sandbag suddenly snaps and strikes her in the head, mentally taking her back to London, 1881. There she is a young American singer who is performing in a production of Faust at the London Opera House.
In between rehearsals and performances, Christine is taught by an "Angel of Music," a man who remains hidden in the shadows and refuses to show his face. He instructs her to bring forth her singing with passion and desire, kills anyone who would cause her harm, and plots to have the theater's diva, La Carlotta, removed from the production so that Christine can play Marguerite, the lead.
Once the film travels back in time to the 19th century, the story follows the same basic traditions established in Gaston Leroux's original novel. In fact, it follows it a bit more closely than others may suspect, since Erik – the Phantom – does leave the Opera House at night, rather than stay confined to the tunnels underneath. And there is also a performance of Faust, rather than Hannibal as the musical version shows.
The Faust performance plays to the heart of this story, and it is during the segment where the show is going on that we see the major change that makes this film different than any other adaptation. Erik is quietly watching the show from his usual area, Box 5. We see the moment in the story where the Devil appears before Faust, and Erik's thoughts journey further back in time, to a pivotal moment in his life years ago. Surprisingly, we're not looking at a younger, deformed child underneath the Opera House feeling sorry for himself. We're looking at Erik Destler, a young man who happens to be a brilliant composer and piano player working in a dingy tavern in London.
Erik is playing the tavern's piano, while customers drink and cavort around him. He is totally at peace with himself.
The screen intercuts back and forth, with Erik thinking of his past and watching the opera. The Devil onstage looks like the typical horned, red-cloaked figure – not unlike Jon Lovitz from Saturday Night Live – but Erik knows better than to think of the Devil as an image as clichéd as that. He has seen the Devil before, or at least one of his many forms.
A little person walks into view at the tavern, a whore at each of his sides. He is very impressed with the music Erik is playing.
CUSTOMER: You play very well.
Erik barely takes his eyes away from his sheet music.
ERIK: Thank you.
The customer walks over to Erik.
CUSTOMER: What is it?
ERIK: It's mine.
The customer puts his hand on Erik's hands, stopping him from playing anymore. He knows exactly what a man like Erik wants, and all the customer needs is a little confirmation.
CUSTOMER: But you want it to belong to the world.
Erik nods, saying exactly what he wants.
ERIK: Yes. I want the world to love me for my music.
The customer smiles as he brings his hand close to Erik's left ringfinger. There is a gold ring on it, and the customer slowly takes hold of it. His whole approach is seductive, and slithery like a snake.
CUSTOMER: What would you give… for your music to live forever? Like Beethoven, Mozart, the immortals.
Erik, almost in a daze, responds just how the customer wants him to respond.
ERIK: Anything. I'd… I'd give everything.
At that moment, the customer slowly slips Erik's ring off his finger and moves it to a jar beside him. There are rings all the way up to the top of the jar. The customer calmly drops Erik's ring into the pile as he presents his "devilish" proposition.
CUSTOMER (DEVIL): Would you wed your soul… with the Devil?
ERIK: Yes… Yes.
On the stage, the Devil is presenting Faust with a contract for him to sign. Faust eagerly signs it, anxious to gain the answers to all the questions of the world… and to gain the love of Marguerite. It's such a typical set-up, showing the director of the opera clearly had no originality, but it also mirrors Erik's fate quite well.
The Devil that seduced Erik smiles victoriously. He's ready to read Erik the "fine print."
DEVIL: The world will love you for your music, but…
And as the Devil touches Erik's face, he is immediately deformed. The skin on one of his cheeks, his chin, his nose, and his forehead are gone.
DEVIL: … that's all it will love you for.
Erik comes back from his flashback in time to see Christine making her first appearance as Marguerite, and we now see the true intentions that Erik has had for her all along. Not only did the Devil deform Erik's face so nobody would ever love him for himself, he linked Erik to his music forevermore. He has transformed Erik into a damned spirit, cursed to walk the Earth for all time and unable to appreciate the rewards that come with his music being loved. His plight has become a legend, as we see later when Inspector Hawkins and Richard are discussing it. We have no idea how old Erik is, and neither does he anymore. He has been granted demonic strength and he has used it to his advantage when he is confronted with anyone in his or Christine's way.
Erik's intentions, now that he is damned forever, are interestingly noble. Since there is no hope for him, his only solace is his music, and for it to truly live forever, he needs the right voice. And he has found that voice in Christine. Despite his trickery of convincing her that he was an angel sent by her dead father, he is aware that her inspiration and her talents will, of course, make his music live forever. And with that happening, the two of them will live forever together.
It's a powerful story that, in a way, improves from the other incarnations of The Phantom of the Opera since it is more than just the typical love triangle. In all the other stories, The Phantom plays the jealous and jilted one, watching the two pretty people in love. This adaptation provides a little more meat than that, and also ties directly into the tragic story of Faust. The execution of this story is handled very smoothly, with Dwight H. Little showing a steady hand and mind from the director's chair and Robert Englund playing a charismatic and very dangerous Phantom.
So with all of this in its favor, why did this adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera fail to catch an audience?
Well, if you want a simple and honest answer, you need to look no further than the spearhead of this film, executive producer Menahem Golan. Both 21st Century Film Corporation and Cannon Films had a very simple means to make their money: exploitation. Whether it was action, horror, comedy, sci-fi, whatever, as long as the film catered to the basest instincts of the lowest common denominator, Golan and former partner Yoram Globus were confident they would see a profit.
With a property as revered as The Phantom of the Opera, and an inventive screenplay by Gerry O'Hara, Golan had an opportunity to go all out for his version. He had a great screen presence in Robert Englund to play The Phantom, and he could have had an equally great Christine by finding a fresh face from the theatre. He could have had someone who would do her own singing and make Christine a force onscreen that could have rivaled Englund as the show-stealer. Instead, Golan brought in horror film veteran Jill Schoelen. Now I have nothing against Ms. Schoelen since she did perform well in the movie, but she didn't do her own singing. When you have a character who is supposed to be a theatre ingénue, it would only benefit the production if the actress COULD SING!
The other factor that Golan decided to lean on was the gore, and this is what derailed the whole movie with critics. Instead of a mask, Erik uses patches of skin from his victims and sews his face back together every night. We are shown reeeeeeal tight close-ups of the needle and thread going through his face. We are later shown slooooow shots of Erik removing the skin and dropping it on his table. We didn't need to see all of this.
Considering the liberties that were taken with the story, it would have been nice for audiences to see something – anything – that would be familiar to them, and the mask is one of the most iconic pieces of film and literature history. And even though the stitched-together face comes in handy in segments when Erik is outside of the Opera House, it would have helped if The Phantom of the Opera looked like The Phantom of the Opera in this film, rather than just another slasher film character.
Speaking of slasher film, the different deaths here are so far over-the-top that any casual fan of The Phantom would be repulsed by what they saw. Joseph the stagehand isn't merely hung, he's skinned and left alive in Carlotta's closet. One of the robbers that tries to mug Erik is beheaded, with his head rolled at his accomplice. Carlotta's head is found in the punch bowl during the Masquerade ball. It's all too much, and none of it is designed to appeal to the average horror fan teenager. Those who normally go to a slasher film – especially in the late 80s when the Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th franchises were still going strong – love to see kids their age doing stupid things and getting killed off one by one. In this film, none of the victims are of an age the intended audience would have identified with. If the deaths were handled in a much more tasteful manner, there could have been a better chance for more mature audiences (audiences that would have enjoyed a fresh telling of this story) to give this film the business it needed.
Unfortunately, because of the severely limited vision of the producer, the 1989 version of The Phantom of the Opera became a slasher film that tried to cater to the older demographic. As a result, the young people stayed away, the older ones refused to pay for gory exploitation, and the critics had a field day. Today, when websites and critics bring up the long and storied history that goes all the way back to Gaston Leroux's novel, the 1989 version is simply referred to as a slasher film starring Robert Englund that was a box office failure.
It's a shame since, as we see by the scene that has been analyzed here, a lot of care and merit went into presenting the audience with a fresh take on an old story. Everyone who worked on this film – from Englund to Schoelen, from Dwight H. Little to Duke Sandefur - who adapted Gerry O'Hara's original screenplay - to Misha Segal for creating a musical score that can be described as too good for the movie, really seemed to care about what was going on. (Quick Note: SNL fans should pay attention to the girl who plays Christine's friend Meg in the present time. She's Molly Shannon, in her first ever film role.)
It's too bad Menahem Golan was only interested in making a quick buck. I'm surprised everyone involved didn't try to sell their soul to bring in a better producer.
If you're interested in learning more about composer Misha Segal - and once you hear his very underrated score for this film, you will be – feel free to access his official website at www.mishasegal.com.
Next week, I'll take a look at a scene from a much more well-known version of this story, a scene in a musical where there is no singing.
