I'm not sure why I like Phantom of
the Opera so much more than Nosferatu. Somehow, the
former comes across as more of a vintage classic to me, while the
latter comes across as pure cheese from a time before people knew how
to use a camera correctly. I think a big part of it may be the
comparison to other versions of the story. There have been far more
nuanced and complex versions of Dracula produced since the
invention of sound. And while I've only seen two other version of
Phantom, the musical and the Hammer version, both were
underwhelming. (I believe Richard Roeper referred to Gerard Butler
as the “fashionably-scarred stud of the Opera.”) Of course, I
probably need to see Claude Rains’ take at some point, but I don't
want to get bogged down in Phantom adaptations. (That’s the
reason why we have Youtube’s Phantom Reviewer.)
Seeing a silent film is always like
looking into another world. I realized while writing this review
that if my late grandparents had wanted to, not one of them would
have been able to go and see this movie when it first came out
unchaperoned. There's only a handful of people currently alive with
any connection to the world in which this movie was made, and the
number grows smaller every year. In fact, Carla Laemmle, the final
surviving actress from this film, passed way in 2014.
I'm not entirely sure to what extent I
can judge this film based on the score. My understanding is that
silent films were typically scored by a live theater orchestra, so
there is no single ‘Correct’ score. And, as I understand it,
this film actually has a number of different scores from various
re-releases. So on that note, I can only say that score in the
version that I watched was very poor, and seemed to have a great
disconnect between the mood of the film and the mood of the music.
To quickly review the plot, a
mysterious “Phantom” of the Opera (Lon Chaney Sr.) feels entitled
to a specific theater box, and is secretly training an Opera singer
named Christine (Mary Philbin). He uses hidden passages to get
around the Opera House and speaks to her through the walls, and
blackmails her into dumping her love interest Raoul (Norman Kerry).
To add to the drama, he also threatens anyone he sees as interfering
with her career, or her interest in him.
Chaney's performance as the Phantom is
rightfully praised. The Phantom is someone you can fear, while also
recognizing that his actions are out of pain rather than malice. A
deformed being who, with another face, would have been happily
accepted as a musical genius by society. I'm sure there's an
argument to be made that he represents a ‘Nice Guy’ (TM) with an
entitlement complex, but I'll leave feminist analysis to my friend
GoingRampant, since that's her specialty.
The most famous scene of the film is
the Phantom's unmasking. Chaney's makeup, which he famously did
himself, does a great job of creating an unsettling appearance in
this scene. However, the scene has become so iconic that it's really
lost its kick. To me, there are two other notable scenes that are
more frightening. The first is a scene near the beginning in which
several people claim to have seen the Phantom, but cannot agree on
his appearance. This scene heavily plays with fear of the unknown
and the mystique around the Phantom. One person claims he has no
nose, another person claims he has a huge nose, but all agree he is
terrifying to look at.
The other other is the ballroom scene.
(One of two scenes shot in color, but the color print for the Faust
scene has been lost.) I think this is the rare scene that may
actually be creepier to a modern viewer than to someone who watched
the film in 1925. A completely silent color film is something for
which we have no frame of reference. In our understanding of the
history of film, sound came before color. I think this scene seems
so bizarre to us that pop culture refuses to acknowledge it. I don't
think I've ever seen it referenced or spoofed, despite being so
memorable, and part of such an iconic film.
One final scene is of particular note,
because it does not appear to be in the public perception, but is
very well known among film buffs, and I can certainly see why. When
the Phantom is being chased by a mob at the end, right before his
death, he appears to reach for something and holds it up as if he's
about to throw a grenade. The crowd stops its advance, terrified.
He then opens his hand to reveal... nothing... and he starts laughing
hysterically as the mob falls upon him.
It's a bit difficult to say why that
sequence is so powerful, but I can at least speculate. The Phantom,
like Frankenstein's creature, knows he can never have acceptance.
However, the grotesque appearance that drives people away from him
also gives him power. He can inspire fear with the slightest
gesture, even at the very end of his rope, simply because people are
terrified of him. None of them could really believe in their hearts
that the Phantom is helpless.
This is a really good movie. For a
modern viewer, having to read the title cards might be a bit
annoying, but no more so than reading subtitles on a foreign film.
Check it out.
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