The Phantom Project Forum

I previously started a thread pointing out the most stupid moments in various different incarnations of The Phantom legend, and bemoaned that EVERY SINGLE VERSION I've seen/read/heard had at least one scene in it that is so incredibly stupid it makes me scratch my head and wonder what the writer/director/composer/actor was smoking at the time when they thought it would be a good idea.

Lest I come across as being a grouch, or even worse, a masochist, let me counterbalance that by saying that all of the various versions contain at least one scene that is incredibly cool and which sets my fanboyish heart beating faster, or brings a tear to my eye or whatnot and it is these moments that make all these various versions so dear to me and ensure I will always be a Phantom Phan.

So without further ado, here are what I think are the crowning moments of coolness in all the different versions I am familiar with.


THE SILENT FILM VERSION:
The technicolor ball masque sequence has yet to be topped, I think. The decadent splendour is heightened by the monochramatic palette of the scenes preceding it, and the music that Carl Davis composed for this on the "Ultimate Edition" DVD release is just awesome.

THE 40s FILM VERSION:
I loved the sustained tension where Erique is sawing away at the chandelier, this is probably my favourite of all the chandelier dropping scenes... but my all time favourite scene in this is the foot-chase, when Anatol is in pursuit of Erique and how the stage environment is used in this scene.

THE 80s TV MOVIE:
The highlight of this version, for me, is the scene in which Korvin first approaches Maria in person. It's a hard-sell of a scene on paper, but Max Schell and Jane Seymour make it work - I like how each is sizing the other up in this scene. The sense of wariness and trepidation coupled with curiosity.

THE 80s FILM VERSION:
Most of the visuals in this film are ravishingly beautiful, and the same can be said about Misha Segal's score... but nowhere is this more so than during the graveyard sequence. The melancholy arrangement of the "Don Juan Triumphant" on the violin is simply exquisite... this is just the best graveyard sequence ever. Actually most of the scenes where you get a glimpse of Erik's romantic side amidst all the bloodletting are poignant... the scene in box five where he is watching Christine sing like an excited fanboy... and the scene with the prostitute, which a lot of people poke fun at, I actually found quite poignant too.

THE 90s TV MINI-SERIES:
Of all the versions where The Phantom is taking Christine underground to visit his domain for the first time, this is my favourite. There's a palpable otherworldliness to it, you really get the feeling that Christine is crossing into another world (but without descending into overblown camp the way that the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical and the Joel Schumacher philm do).... similarly, I love the scene where Christine is exploring the opera house at night, and Erik hears her sing for the first time... Richardson really makes you feel the sense of wonder that the characters are feeling at this time.

ARGENTO'S 98 HORROR:
The scenes where we get to see Asia Argento's breasts are great, because she is an extremely attractive woman (if only she had bothered to act as good as she looks in this film)... and I loved it whenever Morricone's violin love theme made an appearance, because it gave me something elegant and wonderous to focus on in the midst of so much stupidity and wanky, pretentious symbolism... I own Morricone's score on CD and have listened to it more times than I've actually watched this movie.

THE LLOYD-WEBBER MUSICAL:
Lloyd-Webber belongs to the "bigger is better" school of thought, and the lavish spectacle of his version is both it's greatest strength and it's greatest weakness.... often the spectacle detracts from the story or seems to be there for it's own sake, rather than adding to the story... when it comes to the stage version, I found it's most resonant scenes were actually the more quiet and intimate ones, mainly the reprise of "All I Ask Of You" where The Phantom bemoans Christine's betrayal (Colm Wilkinson's rendition on the Canadian Cast Recording is especially affecting), or the "Twisted Every Way" number, where Christine confesses to Raoul her divided feelings and sense of confusion... or the scene where the older Raoul places the music box on Christine's grave in the film version and the "Learn To Be Lonely" theme plays in the background (I find the song version annoyingly sappy, but the instrumental versions used throughout are quite poignant for some reason)

THE KEN HILL MUSICAL:
The Lloyd-Webber tried so hard to wow me with spectacle, but I found it most affecting in it's more quiet and intimate moments.... similarly, the Ken Hill version tried so hard to make me laugh, and as amusing as some of the camp comedy patter was, I also found much of it puerile and overly self-concious - and I found it's more serious moments to be far more effective and intelligent. Christine's "Love Has Gone" number and the Phantom's "While Floating High Above" are the highlights for me, followed closely by Christine's forlorn cries of "Somewhere Above The Sun Shines Bright". The serious bits in the Ken Hill musical are some of the most heartwrenching portrayals of these moments in any incarnation of Phantom.
The main reason I rank the Yeston and Lloyd-Webber shows over Hill's is because they embrace the melodrama of the story wholeheartedly, whereas Hill treats it with an ironic self-awareness that comes across as very smug at times. For this reason I feel that both the Lloyd-Webber and Yeston musicals are more true to the spirit of Phantom than Hill's, which is more true to the letter of Phantom than either of those shows... it seems that Phans can never have it all, alas.

THE YESTON MUSICAL:
The highlights of this musical for me are the songs which express the joy of music itself. "Home" is one of the most beautiful songs about the joys of singing and making music that I have ever heard. Similarly, I love how songs like "Without Your Music" and "Where In The World' stress the importance of music in Erik's life, how it is his solace and comfort. And although a lot of people poke fun at it for it's simplistic structure and lyrics, when it is performed well the joy of "Melodie De Paris" is infectious.

THE PHANTOM LOVER:
Ronny Yu's direction is so awesome, the cinematography is so great at creating a fairytale atmosphere (but without descending into camp ala Schumacher) that I find it so hard to choose one scene from this film, so I'll just pick one at random... erm... the scene where The Phantom's mad lady-love comes into the ruined theatre and watches his protege sing, and she is standing in the light with the snow falling on her hair, utterly indifferent to the cold because she is so entranced by the music. Utterly enchanting and heartwrenching scene right there.

The graveyard scene from the 1989 Little/Englund film is one of my favorite Phantom scenes of all time. I love that they included it, and I love the violin theme, and I love how well everyone acted it and the otherworldly quality to it. It was just gorgeous. In fact, I love a lot of these scenes you've mentioned--that one from The Phantom Lover always sticks in my head, too, because I think it's one of the most gorgeous examples of cinematography I've seen in any film ever.

Hmm, other ones that I really enjoyed...

There are so many parts of the 1925 film I enjoyed... I know I've said so many times that my very favorite is at the very end, when Erik commits suicide via mob. Chaney's acting is fantastic there--the character still has that sense of extreme power to frighten the mob off, and the poignance of his choice to let them kill him rather than go on knowing he's lost Christine is very tearful for me. I know it isn't one of your favorites, but I love it.

The scene in the 1943 film that I always remember is, strangely enough, just a little incidental; the first time that Christine and Erique really meet and talk in person after the opera. She has no idea who he is, of course, and treats him like any other mostly nice but slightly inappropriate older guy, but I love Claude Rains' palpable joy just from seeing her. The expression on his face when he sees her, and again when she leaves, is just absolute adoration, and now that I know that the character was originally intended to be her father, it's even more of an awww moment for me.

The end of the 1962 film (not the very end--the chandelier thing was just silly), in which Christine sings Joan of Arc and the Phantom watches both his life's work and his protege come to glorious life, brought a lump to my throat. Herbert Lom somehow manages to emote an impressive mix of pride and sorrow despite the cumbersome mask, and the symbolic overtones of the piece combine with Christine's obvious gratitude to make it a really great scene.

Phantom of the Paradise is 99.9% ridiculous camp, most of which I enjoy (Beef entertains me. So does Winslow.), but there's that one moment in which Winslow tries to kill Swan and the other man just pulls the knife back out, grins, and says, "I'm under contract, too." Paul Williams does such a great job of being chilling there, and it's like a bucket of cold water in the middle of the silliness that is the rest of the movie; in an instant, we go from camptastic camp to the sudden realization that Winslow, and pretty much everybody else, is totally and inevitably doomed by something much too large for him to overcome. And then, whee, back off to Beef! de Palma is such a head trip.

My favorite scene in the 1983 made-for-TV movie was actually their version of the masquerade ball (it doesn't have much in common with the one in the 1925 film, but it's probably for the best that they went at it in a different manner). Some of the shooting, particularly the blur shots, is a little bit dated, but I adore the Phantom's creepily human-looking mask and I love the way Maria's confusion and mounting fear come across as she gets whirled around. It does such a fantastic job of lending a surreal fear to the proceedings without going over the top.

Just like with The Phantom Lover, there are a lot of scenes in the 1988 Argento film that are just amazing from a technical standpoint, and I love the whole film's air of eerie, hackle-raising terror. But the scenes in which Betty performs Verdi's Macbeth, especially the final one, are especially beautiful. Maybe it's because I'm an opera geek, but I love the amazing staging and ethos of the production, and the moment at the end when the cage full of ravens drops onto the stage and explodes into a veritable storm of birds is breathtaking, even if the premise of them going to assassinate the Phantom is a bit (juuuust a bit) of a stretch.

You already mentioned the graveyard scene, but the other scene I really love in the 1989 film is the one in which Erik hires a prostitute. It's so unexpectedly gentle and insightful, and the whole interchange really lends that character a lot more depth than he'd had up until that moment in the film.

I really enjoy the flashback scenes in the 1990 miniseries; not the ones that have to do with Christine and Philippe, whose idyllic backstory is a little bit too pat and silly to keep my attention for long, but the ones that have to do with Erik's dancer mother and Carriere, and their doomed romance. Anne Roumanoff is so ethereal and dreamlike in those scenes, and their well-done handling is probably what really sold me on the whole Phantom-daddy idea without too much fighting.

The other Argento film, well... it's just so insane. But there are a few moments that I think are really nice, even beautiful; for one thing, I think the first sex scene between Christine and the Phantom is done very well, and convincing (even if the bizarre acting and characterization goes and makes it unconvincing again in, like, the next scene). And I have to confess that I kind of love the Phantom beating on the chandelier support with a sledgehammer; it's so ridiculous in context of the story (even loving it, I can't watch it without ridiculing it), but it almost makes sense for that crazy version of the Phantom, and Sands' nordic determination and Argento's determination to shoot him like an avenging god really give the character a powerful moment.

Those are really the ones that come to mind for me. There are some other Phantom films that I enjoy--like my shameful brain junkfood, Phantom of the Ritz--but I don't think any of them could be said to have really amazing moments like that.

I know I've said so many times that my very favorite is at the very end, when Erik commits suicide via mob. Chaney's acting is fantastic there--the character still has that sense of extreme power to frighten the mob off, and the poignance of his choice to let them kill him rather than go on knowing he's lost Christine is very tearful for me. I know it isn't one of your favorites, but I love it.

I don't have any trouble believing that Erik would let the mob kill him rather than go on without Christine.

What I have trouble with is that he convinces the mob that he's holding a hand grenade. I, the viewer, was not convinced, therefore I found it stupid that the mob were so convinced... I suppose one could use the old "stress of a bad situation" excuse to explain away this scene, but really, that can only be taken so far.

I must say, this scene doesn't affect me anywhere near as much as the end of the animated version, where Erik gives Christine the ring as a wedding present and then lets her go. Even with the demented organ bashing that goes on afterwards (or perhaps because of it) it's a powerful scene.

The end of the 1962 film (not the very end--the chandelier thing was just silly), in which Christine sings Joan of Arc and the Phantom watches both his life's work and his protege come to glorious life, brought a lump to my throat. Herbert Lom somehow manages to emote an impressive mix of pride and sorrow despite the cumbersome mask, and the symbolic overtones of the piece combine with Christine's obvious gratitude to make it a really great scene.

Now that I've finally got around to watching this scene... I must say, the glimpse of a single tear sliding gracefully down his cheek, seen through the mask, was a nice touch and very poignant. It really added to the scene you mentioned.

Also, the juxtaposition of the Phantom playing Toccata & Fuge on the organ whilst the dwarf takes Christine down to his lair.

It's moments like these which demonstrate what a truly underrated director Terence Fisher was from a visual standpoint.

Phantom of the Paradise is 99.9% ridiculous camp, most of which I enjoy (Beef entertains me. So does Winslow.),

I don't see how anyone could not love the scene where The Phantom threatens Beef with a toilet plunger. Classic.

My favorite scene in the 1983 made-for-TV movie was actually their version of the masquerade ball (it doesn't have much in common with the one in the 1925 film, but it's probably for the best that they went at it in a different manner). Some of the shooting, particularly the blur shots, is a little bit dated, but I adore the Phantom's creepily human-looking mask and I love the way Maria's confusion and mounting fear come across as she gets whirled around. It does such a fantastic job of lending a surreal fear to the proceedings without going over the top.

Yes, quite. There is something decidedly creepy about Schell's lifelike mask in any of the scenes in which it makes an appearance - I think it's just the contrast between the emotionless visage and Schell's very passionate line delivery.




I suppose I should mention some of my favourite moments from the books I've read as well...

The torture chamber scene in the original book gives me the willies every time I read it.

The scene showing the first death as a result of the prototype iron jungle in Pete Bregman's "The Trap Door Lover" brought a lump to my throat too.

Similarly, the bit in Kay's "Phantom" where Nadir is aiding Erik in his escape and forces him to promise to be good is very touching in showing the depth of their relationship.

The scene in "The Canary Trainer" where Holmes is reunited with Irene Adler was wonderful. Most versions that bring her back either soften the character to make her a love interest for Holmes (see the film "Sherlock Holmes In New York" for an example of this) or else they turn her into a cartoon villain (like the TV mini-series "The Baker Street Irregulars"). This balanced depiction of Adler and her witty repartee with Holmes was quite refreshing.

Even "Phantom Of Manhattan" has it's moments - I must say I liked the chapter where Erik explains how he made his fortune and the richly evocative period detail contained therein. To say the book goes downhill from there is putting it mildly.... but the saddest thing about Forsyth's novel is that there are moments here that hint that there's a really good book buried somewhere inside that is trying to get out. But it never does.