PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *psychological*
“You think you can become a great
siniger without suffering?”—the 1962 Phantom to Christine.
The third major adaptation of
Gaston Leroux’s most famous work only bears one or two similarities with either
the novel or the 1925 Chaney version.
From the novel scripter Anthony Hinds and director Terence Fisher took
an incident involving a hanged man and the character of a ratcatcher, both used
for shock-value scenes. In contrast to
the 1943 Universal version—of which the ’62 film is substantially a remake—the
story places a bit more emphasis placed upon the notion of Christine being
musically tutored by the Phantom, which appears both in the novel and the
original 1925 film. However, the way
that Fisher’s film does so pursues a course almost diametrically opposed to
either the Julian or Lubin adaptations.
I commented earlier that Claude
Rains’ Phantom is less majestically evil than the Lon Chaney version. However, the 1943 Erique, despite having his
fatherly motivations re-written, still emerges as an interesting though not
consistent character. Hammer’s Phantom,
though more grotty to look at than the 1943 version, is a far weaker
conception. Despite the rewrites of the Rains character, one could still imagine
that he had become fascinated with Christine as a “daughter he never had.” The essence of the Leroux story lies in the
“Beauty and the Beast” relationship of Christine and the Phantom, and Hinds’
script never provides one scene that gives this Phantom a reason for fixating
on Christine. And that’s saying nothing
about how badly it treats Christine.
As noted earlier, the Phantom story
usually revolves around at least two men competing over the same woman. Nevertheless, though the novel’s Christine displays
no erotic feeling for her master, the story leaves no doubt that her decision,
her choice of suitors, is of supreme importance. Hinds’ Christine, aside from one display of
spirit, has little choice in this film, being essentially chivvied about by
powerful men.
The film once more takes place in
the Paris Opera-House, this time at the staging of an opera written by Lord
D’Arcy (Michael Gough). A younger man,
Harry Hunter, manages the opera’s production, while ingénue Christine makes a
favorable impression on D’Arcy—so much so that within the film’s first thirty
minutes he attempts to get her to come to his studio for “lessons.” Christine’s one real moment of spirit comes
at this point, when she inveigles Hunter into helping her win free of the old roué. In retaliation D’Arcy fires both of them from
the production.
Interweaving with this
romance-plotline, albeit tenuously, is the revelation that the Opera-House
possesses its own Phantom (Herbert Lom).
It’s not very clear how long he has been there, though in contrast to
the 1943 film, it must be long enough to have created a superstition that no
one attends the opera in “the Phantom’s box”—a detail fleshed out more in the
novel. One of the stage-hands is hanged
to death, making for a shocking opening.
It’s not clear why he was killed, though it’s suggested that this wasn’t
the act of the Phantom himself, but that of his mute servant. A
little later the mute goes berserk and kills the opera-house’s ratcatcher,
apparently to establish that the mute is a loose cannon who kills for the fun
of it. But the upshot of this plotline
pays more attention to the mute than to the Phantom’s reasons for becoming
interested in Christine—apparently after seeing her on stage for an extremely
short period.
This Phantom does speak to
Christine through the wall in her dressing-room. The character, as in the 1943
film, reacts with disbelief and shows no interest in being tutored by the
opera’s resident spectre; indeed, she even reveals the anomaly to Hunter, who
begins “hunting” out the secret of the Phantom.
By dumb luck Hunter talks to Christine’s landlady and learns the story
of a “Professor Petrie,” who suffered grievous wounds in a fire at Lord
D’Arcy’s publisher, and then vanished from sight.
While Hunter plays Sherlock Holmes,
Christine’s choice is taken from her.
Apparently at the Phantom’s command, the mute assaults Christine, knocks
her out and carries her, not at all romantically, down into the watery catacombs
beneath the opera-house. Even Lord D’Arcy,
rotter though he was, at least gave her a choice of sorts, even if he sacked
her thereafter. The Phantom insists that
Christine accept his singing-lessons, and the terrified ingénue obeys. In one brief scene, the Phantom slaps her a
couple of times for getting her lessons wrong.
Whereas the Rains Phantom was credibly fascinated with the singer, Lom’s
Phantom, with his above-quoted line about suffering, seems more concerned with
using Christine as a vehicle for his frustrations.
Hunter finds his way down to the
catacombs. The mute attacks Hunter, but
Hunter beats him down and bursts in on the singing-lessons. As this Phantom appears to be no threat to
anyone, Hunter takes the time to explain how he ferreted out his identity as
Professor Petrie. A flashback fills in
the details, about how D’Arcy cheated the penurious Petrie out of all of his
musical compositions. Petrie, attempting
to sabotage D’Arcy’s publisher, became injured and disfigured. He fell into the river, which carried him to
the catacombs, where the mute found him and cared for him.
Hunter and Christine conveniently
forget about the earlier murders and decide that, because the Phantom is dying,
they will give him one last pleasure, as Christine performs the lead role in
the opera that D’Arcy stole from Petrie. Strangely, on the night of the
perfomance the Phantom confronts the contemptible D’Arcy, but contents himself
with frightening the nasty lord away by revealing his hideously scarred
features. Many horror-fans have
regretted that the thieving D’Arcy wasn’t killed at this opportune moment, but
it seems to have been very important to Hinds and Fisher not to have this
Phantom soil his own hands with killing.
That said, the Phantom indirectly
brings about his own death thanks to having helped unleash the murderous mute,
who is sort of a “dwarf soul” to his master, not unlike the relationship of the
hunchback Frtiz to James Whales’ Doctor Frankenstein. Following Christine's performance of the opera, she comes back on stage for her bows, while the Phantom watches from his box and the mute watches from the rafters. A stage-hand sees the mute and gives chase, which leads to the famed falling-chandelier scene. The Phantom unmasks himself (!) and leaps down to push Christine out of the way. He loses his life, essentially having found a pyrrhic way to "steal the spotlight." Even the mute watches tearfully, with no indication that he, any more than D'Arcy, will be brought to justice.
Despite some impressively mounted
sequences of a very bad fake opera, and a more horrific re-interpretation of the
1943 Phantom’s appearance, this PHANTOM lacks any of the romance-elements of
the earlier works. It remains
principally a melodrama with a touch of resentment toward the upper classes, but concerns itself largely with the passion and suffering of men, in which one
woman just happens to get embroiled.
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