Chances are that you've heard of The
Phantom of the Opera—or at any rate of Andrew Lloyd Webber's
baroque pop musical, so beloved by thirteen-year-old girls and
middle-aged women. If you were ever a thirteen-year-old girl, you may
even have read the original book...like I did.
Of course, my modus operandi was
always to start by reading the book before ever getting around to
adaptations, so that's what I did. I discovered that Gaston Leroux's
legendary book is a sensational, melodramatic gothic novel set in the
Paris Opera in the late 1800s, and introduced by a very serious
Prologue assuring the reader that the Opera Ghost did, in fact,
exist.
The plot will be familiar to most of
you, I think. The Paris Opera has just been bought by new owners, who
are shocked to discover that the Opera is haunted—by a tyrannical
ghost that demands a share in the Opera profits, a reserved box in
the theatre, and his protege Christine Daae to become the prima
donna.
Christine is naïve, beautiful, and
musically talented; her father, a famous violinist, told her before
his death that when he had gone to heaven, he would send the Angel of
Music to teach her. Soon after her arrival at the Opera, she begins
to hear a heavenly voice; when she asks him whether he is the Angel
of Music, he tells her that he is. When Carlotta, the Opera's current
leading lady, falls ill Christine is asked to sing Margarita in
Faust: her performance is a triumph, and her childhood friend
Raoul, now the Comte de Chagny, who is in the audience recognises her
and determines to renew their friendship.
But after the performance, Christine
disappears for a few days. When she finally reappears, Raoul tries to
renew their acquaintance, but as she evades him, he becomes more and
more certain that something is wrong. Why is Christine avoiding him?
Who is the genius teacher that requires her total loyalty? And who is
terrorising the Opera's owners into making Christine the new prima
donna?
This book is one of two Leroux books I
have read; reading another put this one in context. Leroux's books
appear to be characterised by a 'police procedural' style—to the
point where The Phantom of the Opera seems, in places, less a
sensational novel and more an attempt to convince French officials
that the events actually happened. In addition, they show a trenchant
sense of humour, some totally bizarre occurrences, and a fascination
with double or deceiving identities.
If your only exposure to the story
comes for the Lloyd Webber musical, you may be in for a slight shock.
Leroux's novel is uneven, strange, and unsettling: Raoul is barely
twenty, and a self-absorbed, immature and regularly irrational young
man; but pitiful and petty as he occasionally seems, it's the Opera
Ghost that takes the cake—a musical and architectural genius, yes,
but also an unhinged, childish freak whose ugliness is matched only
by his taste for bizarre and barbaric cruelty. One sympathises with
Christine having to choose between them. This is not like the
musical, in which Raoul is boring and the Phantom is tormented but
both of them are intended to be attractive. The book Phantom is never
remotely attractive to the sober-minded reader: he is a pitiful
monster whose dream—to be a normal man taking a normal walk in the
park with his normal wife—is pathetic and impossible mainly because
of his own near insanity.
It's been a while since I read The
Phantom of the Opera, but in thinking it over my attention is
caught by the symbolism of the opera which the Opera Ghost is
writing: it is titled Don Juan Triumphant, and is clearly
intended to be a subverted version of all the operas about seducers
who entertain their audiences with their wicked deeds before being
unexpectedly dragged to Hell at the end of the third act—the
“have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too” morality tale. Operas like Don
Giovanni and Rigoletto featured stories or characters like
this, all based loosely on the Don Juan legend.
Clearly, the Opera Ghost's magnumopus
is intended to be a subversion of this, probably one in which the Don
Juan character gets away with his deeds. This is, of course, the
Opera Ghost's intention as well: his misdeeds are more along the
lines of torture, killing, and kidnapping, but he certainly intends
to have his own way. His choice of Don Juan as a self-insert
character for his own opera does not so much drip as pour down irony:
his ghastly looks have ensured that no woman could ever bear to look
at him. His hubristic declaration of triumph is similarly subverted,
at the end.
Although extremely melodramatic and
sensational, full of a very specific kind of nineteenth-century
silliness, The Phantom of the Opera is an enjoyable Gothic
tale of suspense, mystery, and murder with some very interesting
themes.
The Phantom of the Opera has been
filmed multiple times and adapted into a musical by Andrew Lloyd
Webber. The early films, including the well-known Lon Chaney version,
seem to preserve the feel of the book much better than does the does
the musical.

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