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 Phantom
of the Opera
review by Jenn Wolfe
Phantom of the Opera-Gaston
Leroux (published 1910,
P. Lafitte and Cie)
We all do it. We line our shelves with
things like The Iliad, and The Complete Works of
Shakespeare, because in our flashing light, sound byte,
over-informed society there is still some respect paid for
what we term, “the classics,” and this is considered to be a
classic of French Literature, one of the last of the great
Gothic romances, a tale of horror, mystery, and romance. At
the time I purchased it, I mostly got it because I loved the
musical and played the soundtrack incessantly in my car.
What soprano hasn’t ever wanted to be Christine?
By now, thanks to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s
phenomenally popular stage production, as well as the many
film adaptations, Gaston Leroux’s 1910 novel is ingrained in
our collective culture. We all know the story of the
beautiful opera singer, caught in the love triangle between
the disfigured and tragic Erik, the supposed “Opera Ghost”,
and Raoul, the dashing French noble who rescues his love
from the clutches of the insane but pathetic phantom. Yet,
while the musical, and many of the movies, focus on the very
sad and very romantic story, it is often neglected the fact
that this is in fact a Gothic horror, in the same vein as
Poe or Wuthering Heights, a story where the
fantastical meets the everyday world side by side, sometimes
with horrific or terrifying consequences. Leroux’s novel
carries on this same tradition, woven through a combined
love story and detective mystery. As we find out what is
the real story about the Opera Ghost, who he was, and what
impact he had on this pair of lovers.
Leroux starts his story almost as a
piece of investigative journalism. His prologue begins with
the lay out of what he is trying to prove in the novel, that
there is the story of the Opera Garnier being haunted by a
ghost, but that he believes this creature is flesh and
blood, and what is more that this creature is responsible
for the mysterious Chagny cause surrounding the Opera years
before. The case resulted in the disappearance of the Raoul,
Vicomte de Chagny, and his young lover, the opera singer
Christine Daae, as well as the death of Raoul’s elder
brother, the Comte de Chagny. Leroux as the author then
takes us into the real tale by way of the recollections of a
mysterious Persian, who somehow knows the entire story of
the Ghost, and what was going on.
In the tradition of all fine, Gothic
romantic stories, the Persian’s narrative is half a horror
story about a mysterious ghost who is threatening and
terrorizing the Opera Garnier in Paris, and half a mystery
about who really this person is and what is it that is
driving him to do these horrible things. As we begin, the
Ghost is actually never really seen in the action of the
story. He is referenced in the hushed whispers and knowing
smiles of the chorus girls, and the terrified explanation of
the manager to the two new proprietors of the opera,
Moncharmin and Richard. They are curious as to why there
are all of these exceptions made in the running of the opera
house for the benefit of a very demanding ghost. At no time
is the Ghost ever actually seen, but the hold he has over
the denizens of the opera is very, very real. This is this
shown best in the narrative than in the mysterious death of
Joseph Buquet, one of the stage hands. Immediately
suspicion is thrown onto the ghost, despite the new owner’s
dismissal of such fantasies.
It isn’t until we meet Christine Daae
that we learn that there is something to this spirit
haunting the halls. Christine is an orphan, who is trying
to make a success of herself in the opera, and is being
trained by a mysterious ‘Angel of Music’, who we are
immediately led to suspect might be one in the same as the
Ghost who has terrified the company. The Angel is demanding
and expects a great deal out of his student, though she has
never seen him, and seems to just accept his explanations
about what he is. Again, there is the air of the
supernatural here, the fantastic that lends us a bit of
disquiet as to what sort of creature is this that on one
hand can so easily kill and innocent man, but on another
could work so hard to help a young girl attain her dreams.
When Christine makes the mistake of
rekindling her childhood romance with Raoul, that the
mystery not only starts to deepen, but expand and reveal to
us something even more sinister, and yet even sadder about
who this Ghost really is. He is neither the apparition that
the members of the opera believe him to be, nor is he
Christine’s beloved Angel, but rather Erik, a man who
society has cast off. His face is disfigured; he hides
alone in the tunnels beneath the opera, living a macabre and
isolated existence alone with his genius for music, the only
bright spot in his life being the time he spends with his
protégé. He has very little regard for the rest of humanity
because they’ve had little regard for him, and all he
demands is that Christine love him and no other.
And so here our love triangle begins.
Christine is both frightened of, but sorry for Erik, but her
heart belongs to her childhood friend, Raoul. She feels she
can never escape the man who has made her what she is and
everything that entails for her, but she longs for the
freedom and safety she finds with the young, dashing, and
sane nobleman. As Leroux continues to unwind his story, we
begin to see to just what desperate depths Erik would go to
keep Christine with him, and how his isolation has unhinged
him to the point that he cares not for the lives he affects,
especially not Raoul, his arch rival. Erik curses the world
for his isolation, and seeks to force Christine into an
unhappy situation simply so he can possess forever the one
thing in the world he has always wanted and never found.
Leroux has Erik stand on the precipice between becoming the
monster that he has always pretended to be, and redemption
by showing for once in his life the one emotion that has
always been denied to him-compassion.
Like all good Gothic horrors,
Phantom of the Opera gives us some of the basic elements
we look for, the brooding, dark, twisted character, the
lovely and pure heroine, and the chivalrous and righteous,
(if somewhat petulant), hero. Close your eyes and you can
almost see Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights.
Erik would feel at home right next to the Bronte sister’s
Byronic characters. Leroux casts him as a sort of one-man
Greek tragedy, someone who didn’t ask for what happened, and
was determined to make everyone pay for it, (actually that
sounds like the plot of many a Charles Bronson movie as
well.) As we watch Erik’s madness and obsession for the
beautiful Christine continue to consume him through the
story, we are filled with the wonderful terror and shock
that would have titillated post-Victorian audiences with
their bold displays of raging emotions, violent tempers,
threats to the life and well being of our main characters,
and a good murder or two. Still, while it would be easy to
vilify Erik as this horrible person who has committed these
crimes, in the end you do come off feeling sorry for him.
Yes, he has terrified the opera, killed at least two people
that we know of, and attempted to murder Raoul as he came to
save his beloved Christine, but…in reality he was just a guy
who needed a hug. And in the end, that is what saves our
Byronic Erik from being completely a monster.
One warning on Leroux’s story, if you
expect to go in and find a printed verbatim copy of Andrew
Lloyd-Webber’s play, you won’t, and this might frustrate the
casual reader who isn’t used to the strange turns of phrases
common in turn-of-the-century literature, (made all the
worse by the fact that it’s a period translation of the
original French). The purpose of this story is to be a
serialized thriller, as was common in the day, and not to be
a tragic, angst-ridden love story. While that element is
still there, it isn’t quite as melodramatic as the modern
musical is. Though I must admit that I prefer “All I Ask of
You” to the opera Faust any day, those of you whose
only exposure has been to the London cast soundtrack or more
recent movie might find it a bit harder to get through the
original story than it was to watch the movie. All I can
say is be patient, you’ll be happy when you get through with
it, and find that the story is almost more compelling and
has more depth. Still, be prepared for much in the way of
Edwardian level descriptive and melodrama, some of which
might seem a tad silly to our more modern eyes, (the
description of Raoul I found particularly amusing, as he
comes off sounding part foppish, part spoiled, and part
effeminate, and you wonder how in the world he ends up with
Christine anyway.) Just remember time and place, and you’ll
be fine.
So if you are ever in Barnes and Noble,
and have the irresistible urge to buy something that makes
you “look smart”, pick up Phantom of the Opera, and
give it a read. It’s a pleasant surprise, and a classic in
any library of truly good, Gothic romance. |
