Review
Review Date: 26-December-04
Spoiler Rating: Medium
Juju Judgment: Just OK
The Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Millions of theatergoers have adored "The Phantom of the Opera" since the musical opened in 1986, so it must have something that revs a lot of engines. For first-timers like me, Joel Schumacher's adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber's hit promised to explain just what that something is, but the movie's answer is either obscure or unsavory. I am sufficiently in touch with my inner Victorian to get the gist: the ripening orphan girl; the bohemian allure of the stage; the pair of suitors who represent dark sexuality on the one hand and daylight respectability on the other; the erotic overtones of rape, madness, and Oedipus-like father fantasy; and the conflicting emotions which these things wreak upon susceptible virgins (whose company includes the manly and maudlin Phantom himself). But the film's heaving bosoms, dramatic warbling, lavish costumes, and candlelit sets prop up a story of passion that has little real heat. The characters behave in ways you know are supposed to be swoony and steamy (over and over and over again), but they don't grab you anywhere lower than your head.
"The Phantom of the Opera" took a long time coming to the big screen and its arrival coincides nicely with that of young actress/singer Emmy Rossum. With her wide brown eyes and pretty voice, Rossum fits perfectly in the central role of Christine, a modest fixture of the Paris opera house who is thrust into the spotlight when the diva (Minnie Driver) storms out on the day of a show. Christine's resultant success is not the product of luck; it has been orchestrated by a mysterious inhabitant of the theater whom no one has actually seen save the tightlipped dancing mistress (Miranda Richardson). The frightened company and its owners refer to this stranger as the Phantom, but (ushering in the first whiff of twisted psycho-sexuality) Christine believes he is an angel sent by her dead father to watch over her and teach her how to sing.
The Phantom possesses sundry supernatural powers (inhuman stealth, the ability to hypnotize with mediocre song), but he commits a fatal error in bringing his beloved protégé to the fore: her newly revealed perfection attracts a rival in the form of rich, eligible bachelor Raoul (Patrick Wilson, fetching despite limp hair). His appearance galvanizes the Phantom to action, or, to be more specific, to the sad, desperate gambles of a lonely sociopath whose partially deformed face has tormented him all his life. A right jolly Rochester is this fellow, a potentially heady mix of fractured masculinity and dangerous egomania fit to stir the heart and loins of any sensitive lass. So why doesn't he? Perhaps he's too much of a drip, with his puerile romantic sensibility and inclination towards self-pity. Perhaps the wishy-washy Christine doesn't reflect him in the best light. Or perhaps hunky Gerard Butler (looking like the love child of Alec Baldwin and John Travolta) lacks the required intensity for the Phantom as much as he lacks the pipes to hold his own among a vocally talented cast.
"What warm, unspoken secrets we will learn," the Phantom intones in one late scene of palpable rapture, but by then he and Christine have danced around each other too often for their hunger to feel like revelation. Schumacher seems to have made a decent stab at the stage play, but with a fickle damsel, a hero who needs a good spanking, and a disappointing finale, this phantom doesn't generate goosebumps.
Copyright © 2004 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.
