The Music of the Fright

It may have been suggested, at least once or twice, that I’m something of a musical theater fan. Perhaps it’s the stack of Playbills hung on my childhood bedroom wall, the pile of VHS tapes my pals and I used to make in high school featuring us performing Broadway showtunes, or the fact that the best energy boost I’ve ever had in a half marathon is hearing Defying Gravity blasting just half a mile before the finish line.

Yes, I love musicals. I’d probably sell my soul or at the very least, a cat in return for a good singing voice but as I’ve yet to find the right market, I instead comfort myself listening to others. When the world is great--I mean, REALLY great--I find that in a horror movie.

Quick Plot: After a rousing opening night of a new Broadway musical called The Haunting of the Opera (sound familiar?), the leading lady (Minnie Driver, who might have had something to do with that thing that sounds familiar) is brutally slaughtered by a mystery man wearing her co-star’s mask. 

Ten years later, her twin children have grown into attractive cooks at Center Stage, a theater camp run by their mother’s boyfriend and former producer Roger (also, Meat Loaf). Camilla has grown into a beautiful and talented soprano who dreams of following in her late mother’s footsteps, while brother Buddy is still embittered by the entire musical community. 

As a last ditch effort to find some profit, Roger decides to revive The Haunting of the Opera as the summer’s big showcase. Surely nothing can go wrong with such a controversial decision, right?

Written and directed by newcomer Jerome Sable, Stage Fright is pretty much everything I could ask for in a movie, missing only a few evil children and plate of nachos. From the opening text informing us that the movie is sort of based on true events (just like Return of the Living Dead) to the followup that "the musical numbers will be performed exactly as they occurred," I squealed with glee.

(not THAT kind of glee)

This movie was made for me. 

Was it the fact that one song lyric involved a kid getting bullied for singing Sondheim? That the totem poles at this summer camp featured the drama/comedy masks? That one song had the faintest touch of a Jesus Christ Superstar salute? 

I don't know that Stage Fright will appeal to hardcore horror fans or those who prefer, well, another theater-set slasher called Stage Fright. But this film delighted me, and as much as I'd like to think Jerome Sable Inception'ed his way into my dreams to give me exactly what I want, I'll still say that I think this will please you too.

High Points

As someone who has worked backstage in a fair amount of college theater performances, believe me when I say that nothing is more annoying than hearing the actors practice their vocal warmups. Hence, the fact that Stage Fright uses that moment to give us such a juicy murder made me far more happier than it probably should have

The end credits song includes lyrics thanking the audience for staying so late. Then they break into a lecture about piracy. ALL IN ROCK OPERA FORMAT

Did I mention how happy this movie made me?

Low Points

I'm a stickler for detail, so it bothered me slightly that we were never informed who took over for a key actor in the big show. Understudies need to rehearse, you know

Lessons Learned

Altos just don’t understand

The first rule of theater camp: abandon all ye cell phones

You can't change the past, but you can make a musical

Rent/Bury/Buy

Look, I understand that a horror musical with original showtunes might not be for everybody, but good golly was this the film for me. I adored Stage Fright and would eagerly donate to kickstart a sequel. Give me more I say! 

Monday March Musical Madness: Love Never Dies

Basketball? Please. Unless those orange orbs are bouncing in rhythm a la High School Musical’s Keep Your Head In the Game or making Anne Ramsay’s face explode in Deadly Friend, there’s simply no room for that kind of game here at the Doll’s House. So while sports fans around the country fill out their brackets, we’re going in a different direction this month with Musical Mondays.

(But just in case you haven't seen it, here's the greatest non-musical basketball scene in cinema history)

Truthfully, I just happened to recently see two slightly-to-very horror-ish musicals, so why not make it a mini theme?

Remember when you were a thirteen year old girl with a locking diary and annoying confidence in your imagination? Maybe you saw a play or movie that awakened your inner romance novelist, inviting the muse in all her Delia’s clad glory to inspire your first draft of Romeo + Juliet 2: Heaven Can't Wait or Titanic Sails On: What If Rose Never Did Let Go? Such ramblings were harmless of course, because while your Twilight-like dreams of extending a fluffy love story were in hindsight fairly silly, they were your own.

Unless you're Andrew Lloyd Webber and your Twilight-like dreams of extending a fluffy love story could be realized with a multi-million dollar musical extravaganza, recently filmed and showing this Wednesday (March 7th) in movie theaters through Fathom Events.

Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera is a novel that has fascinated filmmakers since the birth of cinema. From Lon Chaney’s skeletal expressionism to Robert Englund’s teleporting patchface who made a crummy deal with Dwarf Satan, the story seems to have endless appeal to filmmakers, even luring Dario Argento to tackle it twice from different angles.

Yet for all the adaptations, it’s Webber’s juggernaut musical hit that has had the most global impact, influencing for better and worse (really more worse) the musical theater scene for decades to come. Having seen the Broadway production ten years ago, I suppose I understand the appeal: pretty sets, big dresses, overwrought love triangles, duet after duet, slow-moving chandeliers. To my more Sondheimian sensibilities, it doesn’t quite warrant its place as the longest running Broadway musical but more importantly, the idea of making a generically titled sequel even tackier than the original just seems…

Well…

Pretty effin’ amazing.

Not, mind you, for the right reasons. Love Never Dies—yes, that’s its title because that’s the kind of title a thirteen year old girl gives to a poem she writes during math class—is entertaining in being quite terrible. Heck, it’s even entertaining in its dullness, if that makes sense. Of course, those of you with an allergic reaction to musical theater are already bored, so for those who aren’t, let’s recap:

Ten years after the ingénue Christine Dae left Paris with her dullard fiancée Raoul, the Phantom disappeared to leave only his mask and a curtain call. Then 15 years earlier, The Phantom of the Opera became extremely profitable and LORD Andrew Lloyd Webber teamed up with some lyricists allergic to thesauruses to continue to story, which now finds The Phantom running a freak and burlesque show of sorts on Coney Island—

Yes, that Coney Island—

But still obsessing over the whiny soprano who screamed at his scars a decade before. He solves this problem by luring Christine and her family (the now alcoholic vertically challenged gambling addict Raoul, because it’s important for the audience to know which side to take in this love triangle) and her TEN YEAR OLD son Gustav, a tragically useless child charged with singing the same lyrics over and over again, then being put in danger, then reprising his repetitive lyrics, then escaping danger, then finally standing firmly in tableau.

Oh, and in case you couldn’t guess it because you didn’t see Superman Returns or lost half your brain in a poker tournament, the Nine Years and Three Month Old Gustav is—SPOILER ALERT IF YOU CAN’T FIGURE OUT REALLY OBVIOUS SECRETS—actually the result of one passionate and dimly lit night between Christine and her former voice instructor.

Wait! You say, if you’re still reading or need me to hold an elevator. Christine and the Phantom…they…you mean…but…

Yes ladies, all those fan fiction entries you stumbled through are true: Christine and The Phantom got it on. 

And on. 

And on, or at least that’s what the 20 minute song  featuring lyrics like “And you touched me/And I touched you/And you held me/And I held you” would like us to believe. It doesn’t really make any chronological sense in terms of what we know about these character, but it makes PERFECT SENSE to legions of Rachel Berrrys who probably fantasized about that white mask at crucial times in their sexual development.

(Side note: remember when Glee was good? Side note sigh...)

Love Never Dies was a highly hyped show that never quite ignited th theater world, mostly because theater critics are generally a few brian cells wiser than 7th grade show choir members. The show fizzled in its London run and unlike the Phantom himself, never crossed over to New York. The production filmed for the DVD and film release was done at the Regent Theatre in Melbourne and in truth, it’s pretty grand. Set and costume designer Gabriela Tylesova either had an unlimited budget or unlimited access to Tim Burton’s warehouse and uses it to give us arias in giant peacock style,

 glittering costume jewelry that never lets the mezzanine ticket holders feel left out,

and a wardrobe for the ringmaster...

that calls to mind Community’s Dean Pelton...

Which just reminds me how much I wish Community would return.

But hey, if I plopped down $100 or euros or kangaroo eggs or whatever Aussies use for currency, that’s exactly what I’d want! Throw in a little person being thrown--

(It happens a lot)

--And I can’t possibly complain!

Except I can, because the show’s terrible. Webber’s score is lavishly large, but when paired with lyrics a contestant on America’s Next Top Model could write for a viral video challenge (yes, that happened last season) the whole shebang just feels silly. So silly that a good half my packed movie theater treated the production as a comedy, openly guffawing because how could you not? The entire experience made me think that cinemas catering to this kind of film should segregate seating, positioning those who came for the humor in the front and letting those that want to get caught up in the overwrought and scarily chauvinistic love story sit back to absorb the emotion.

I say chauvinistic because my goodness is this an abusive relationship on every end. Upon being reunited with her long-lost (giggle giggle) lover, Christine immediately faints, then is served an ultimatum that she either sing the Phantom’s song or he will kidnap her child. And yet she’s now actively considering leaving her tiny husband for this man. Then again, said tiny husband gambles his own wife away when he makes a deal with The Phantom that Christine’s decision to take the stage will ultimately decide the fate of her life. Not that Christine needs to be consulted about this or anything. In case the Titanic-like costumes didn’t clue you in, this is the early 20th century and women--even the heroines of musical theater--apparently have very few decisions to make. Sure, they get to choose which chandelier-ish earrings to wear for big nights, but we can’t go about giving them any REAL responsibility now, can we?

If you're still reading and have nothing to do this Wednesday, sneak in a six-pack, grab a secluded seat, and enjoy the ridiculousness of a show that if standards shakily remain where they are, will never see the light of Broadway. Maybe I'm being a gloriously curled hair mean, but that's because I'm not a thirteen year old who goes to the theater expecting to see my fantasies (or PHANTasies, seewhatIdidthere?) laid out in the precise manner I would have written for extra credit in junior high English class. Love Never Dies can't be accused of laziness, but a hard-working musical does not a classic make. 

But a hilarious time at the movies? I'll buy that for fifteen dollars.

The Devil Wears Petite Prada

Today’s entry into The Shortening is a bit of a surprise. Emily! You cry. There are no short things in The Phantom of the Opera. Some productions are keen to include Parisian rats or the occasional little person chorus member, but that’s not really enough to justify a room at the Doll’s House in this busy February season.

But break open the party room with a low ceiling! A birthday gift from my fella, this adaptation is probably best known as a Robert Englund vehicle but its very being and body count are actually inspired by Satan who--didntcha know, is a dwarf?

Quick Plot: In modern day--okay, 1989--New York City, a young opera student named Christine (Popcorn and more importantly, Babes In Toyland’s Jill Schoelen) finds a mysterious charred libretto to use at an audition for the Met (which apparently did open calls in the 80s?). As she begins the disharmonic chords of Don Juan Triumphant, Christine passes out and awakens as Christine Day, an American ingenue working for the Paris Opera House in 19th century France as the understudy to the diva soprano Carlotta.

Yup, you know the story by now. Christine is engaged to a boring but wealthy slab of handsome, but her heart and voice belong to an unseen vocal coach, that same unseen force who ‘haunts’ Box 5 and causes minor mayhem when his demands aren’t met by the theatre owner (BILL EFFIN' NIGHY!). Nothing new so far, except that the Phantom is played by Robert Englund somewhere between Dreammastering and Dreamchilding. 

As Eric Destler, Englund’s face is a pointy quilt of human skin carefully sewn together. It’s a groovy look, one that works because it makes the Phantom actively unsettling. Even before Andrew Lloyd Webber, the Phantom always seemed to me far too romanticized a figure. Yes, he’s a cruel murderer, but he does it in the name of music and love (or to a more sidestepped degree, obsession). The audience generally forgives his crimes because a) he was a wronged man to begin with (either through nature or seedy bosses, depending on the details) and b) he makes really good work. 

Easily the most interesting aspect of director Dwight H. (as in Halloween 4) Little’s adaptation is its portrayal of the Phantom, aka Eric. Unlike other tales that have Eric the victim of birth defects or burns and plagiarism, Englund’s Eric is not a nice man and really has only himself to blame. 

Okay, himself and Dwarf Satan.

As a young composer in the making, Eric made a deal with Dwarf Satan to craft the perfect opera. The price? Sacrificing his face and body in such a way that no fan will ever throw her pantaloons at him. The upshot? Eric apparently develops superpowers that let him fight a gaggle of backalley bandits through knife throwing, whipping, head tearing, and teleportation.

That’s the main issue with The Phantom of the Opera: it doesn’t quite know what sort of mood it wants to maintain. The score and setting take us deep into classy old Par-ree, but Eric’s pretty ridiculous killing techniques and, sigh, Freddy Krueger-ish puns (“Consider yourself SUSPENDED!” which is, as you expect, snidely shouted at an ill-fated stagehand about to get SUSPENDED from the rafters) square us uncomfortably in a film that wants to stand firmly in the 1980s horror comfort zone. 

Ultimately, The Phantom of the Opera saves itself by its final twenty or so minutes. The big showdown in Eric’s lair is genuinely dangerous, something a lot of other film versions have a hard time doing. I won’t spoil the coda, but as we get brought back to present day (oh yeah, cause remember that?) there’s an added sequence that while kind of silly if you actually think about any of it, isn’t to be found elsewhere.

High Points

Bill Nighy is in this movie. Granted, his role as the new owner of the opera house isn’t huge, but it does mean that we get to see Bill Nighy dressed to kill at a masquerade and more importantly, that BILL NIGHY IS IN THIS MOVIE

Considering the setting and subject matter, it’s important for any Phantom adaptation to put some effort into its music. Thankfully, Misha Segal’s score is grandiose enough to help boost the atmosphere that the visuals...

Low Points

...don’t quite nail. Perhaps I’m just comparing this version to Dario Argento’s dreadful but beautiful retread that came a decade later, but Little’s world just doesn’t look nearly as grand as I generally like to think of Paris opera houses

Lessons Learned

Ghosts do not skin their victims

How to film a flashback within a flashback? Make it foggier

Even in 19th century France, thugs attacked one at a time

In order to nab the lead soprano at the Metropolitan Opera, one need only sing a few bars and almost get killed by faulty stage decorations. (In other words, put yourself in a situation where you could sue for millions if you REALLY want that role)

Look! It’s...

A young and nerdy Molly Shannon as Christine’s modern day accompanist  (see her all fogged out in the Blossom hat?)

Rent/Bury/Buy

I'm a sucker for Phantom adaptations, be they gaudy musicals or haunting monster tales. This Phantom, though far from perfect or even--let's face it--very good, has a lot of fun interpreting Gaston Lerox's novel for a late '80s audience. Englund is clearly enjoying himself by stretching outside of Elm Street, while Gerry O'Hara's screenplay hits all the expected beats while adding plenty of fresh Faustian touches. You know, like Dwarf Satan. They're just not making 'em like this these days...

Let's Ride An Italian Stallion To Stationary Independence!

If you’re like me this summer, the word 'vacation' has no meaning. Isn't that awesome? Think of all the stab-happy hillbillies you won't have to flee, the cell phone signals in your office so strong they'll leave bruises, and the now unnecessary adorable but sickle-wielding Amish kids who hate you because corn told them they should.

That’s right, think positive. We're not talking about all the pina coladas we're not drinking, the fanny packs not usefully serving as storage and belly fat coverup or the license plate keychains we don’t even get to search through for our names. If you mention such glories of vacation, I'll have my cell phone signal punch you in the face.

So to combat the utter sluggishness of, you know, not going anywhere, let's GO somewhere! Virtually! It's like a futuristic road trip without the leg cramps and motion sickness.

First, break out that gold chain and spray tan for The Blood Sprayer's Italian Invasion! The always busy horror site is busting with special posts on giallo, Bava, cannibalism, and more. It's way better than Domino's pizza, unless you're drunk and Domino's pizza is then way better than just about anything in the world that ever existed ever. If you need a starting point, head yonder here for my own review of my frenemy Dario Argento's 1987 pseudo-Phantom adaption, Opera. 

Yup, this happens.

My, that was exotic! International even! We need to balance this virtualation with some good old fashioned American moviedom, namely, a bunch of indie flicks over at Rogue Cinema.This month, I reviewed the found footage horror Evil Things and the unique mystery Dogs Lie. There's plenty more in the August Issue, including an interview with Tim "Doll Man" (or more excitingly to me, Gangland) Thomerson.

He's the one that reallllllly wants to get to Arizona.

Wasn’t that fun? And look, there was no humorless fondling by TSA agents or socially awkward hitchhikers to make us feel uncomfortable with the stat of Texas. Heck, nobody even broke into our house when we were gone to steal our famous jewels and then get stuck inside an evil death trap orchestrated by our no-good exterminator! 

Maybe vacations aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

Keep telling yourself that Emily.