The Fat Lady’s Singin’
The Phantom of the Opera
Starring Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum
Directed by Joel Schumacher
Written by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Joel Schumacher
Based on the story by Gaston Leroux
Warner Bros.
Andrew Lloyd Webber is to opera what Simple Plan is to punk rock, Maxi Priest is to reggae, Shania Twain is to country and Chris Alexander is to manhood. He’s the Mozart of mediocrity, the Beethoven of bland, and a shallow, giftless dilettante whose hackneyed McOperas are an embarrassment to the art form. And as much as I loathe his entire pedestrian ouvre, The Phantom of the Opera in particular appalls me as both a horror fan and a music lover, since Gaston Leroux’s tale – not only a classic of horror literature but also one of the all-time great tragic love stories – could have reigned supreme as an opera or musical had it been adapted by someone with a shred of talent.
The news that this operatic abortion was being brought to the screen by Joel (gag – Batman and Robin – retch) Schumacher initially caused me no small amount of butt-clenching, and yet he acquits himself surprisingly well. Sure, there’s eye candy aplenty, but never at the expense of credibility or period authenticity. Hey, it coulda been worse – it coulda been Baz Luhrman. Webber, who also produced, insisted the actors must actually be able to sing (admittedly admirable on his part), but the casting is weirdly uneven. On one hand, in the role of Christine we have Emmy Rossum, a jaw-droppingly beautiful ingénue with a superb voice, and Minnie Driver, who steals every scene she’s in as spoiled diva Carlotta. On the other hand, while Gerard Butler lays on the anguish convincingly as the titular boogeyman, he’s about as threatening as David Cassidy and can’t sing worth dog ****.
But let’s face it, the main offender here is the music. Had the film been directed by Martin Scorsese and starred Placido Domingo and Renee Fleming, the saccharine score would still ensure intolerable suckitude. I can only take solace in knowing the horrors that await Andrew Lloyd Wanker in the afterlife: a Rodney King-style beat-down from Lon Chaney, Mozart, Verdi and Wagner, followed by eternity in Music Hell as Linda McCartney’s keyboard roadie. (John, you have a black, black heart. -Ed.)
John W. Bowen