Review: The Phantom of the Opera

It was time to read The Phantom of the Opera from start to finish, which doesn't sound like a big deal except that I was honestly unable to remember if I'd ever read it before. This is strange considering I've been a fan of the story for so long, and the events of the first chapter (which has little resemblance to the musical) certainly rang some bells. So did other bits and pieces throughout the novel, so I can't confidently say this was my first read-through.

It's also difficult for me to recall just when I became deeply interested in the story: certainly by high school, when a friend lent me her cassettes and libretto from the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical (which among other things, led to our cat being named Phantom), but perhaps even a little before this, when my uncle sent us several computer games from Australia, one of which was called Return of the Phantom, set at the Paris Opera House and involving a time-slip adventure/mystery.

But I'll have more to say on that in my end-of-month log. This post is about announcing that I can now definitively say I've read Leroux's original novel. And it was a surprising experience in many ways.

More than anything else, I was hoping to garner more insight into the characters; delving into their backgrounds, personalities and inner thoughts - though in truth it's actually the musical that does a much better job of characterizing Raoul and Christine.

Yeah, I'm astonished too.

The truth is I was rather disappointed, as Christine and Raoul simply aren't that interesting here - in fact, I got the strong impression that Leroux expected the reader to find Raoul ridiculous. He's written as a young man in love, with all the drama, angst, fainting spells, floods of tears and flailing about that you'd expect from a nineteenth century twenty-year old Parisian.

As for Christine, we simply never get the chance to get inside her head. She gets a few good lines, and a bit more background on her relationship with her father, but ultimately she's just the Living McGuffin of the piece. Raoul and the Phantom are in love with her, but we never get a compelling reason as to why, and she's denied any agency throughout - even the act of compassion that saves her musical counterpart is rendered entirely passive here, as it's her acquiescing to Erik kissing her on the forehead that wins her freedom. And since all this is told to us secondhand, through Erik's testimony to a third person, we have no idea what was motivating Christine at this time. Pity? Despair? Resignation? We just don't know.

So the fundamental difference between stage-show and novel is the way the story is presented to the audience; in this case Leroux writes as though he's investigating a true story; gathering evidence (testimonies, eye-witness accounts, letters, diary entries, memoirs) and adding his own footnotes and comments throughout. It's like a true crime documentary published in 1910, and takes full advantage of taking place in a real location.

The Palais Garnier is accurately described, from the Apollo statue on the roof to the subterranean lake in the catacombs, and he weaves in real history, such as its utilization as a prison during the Franco-Prussian War (1870 - 1871), and the chandelier accident which did in fact claim a man's life in 1881. Many of the characters are based on real figures (Christine is believed to be based on Swedish singer Christina Nilsson) and from the very first sentence ("the opera ghost really existed") Leroux attempts the illusion of a true story, one carefully documented by himself.

It's a fun way of telling the story, though naturally it narrows its perspective.

***

In comparing the novel to the musical, which is surely the most popular take on the story despite all the filmic adaptations, it's clear that Lloyd Webber made a few omissions and did a lot of rearranging. And yet, he ended with a better structured narrative than Leroux, one in which things are appropriately condensed, told in chronological order, and in such a way that we see the full story as experienced by the characters, and not just secondhand accounts.

In comparison, Leroux makes a lot of odd creative choices, like characters that are introduced only to fall out of the story entirely (Sorelli the singer and Jammes the dancer feel like they'll be important, but they disappear almost as soon as they arrive) and several chapters devoted to the comical hijinks of the managers as they try to figure out the tricks of the Opera Ghost. Christine's initial visit to the Phantom's lair is told to Raoul several weeks after it's already happened, and the death of Joseph Buquet occurs just before the story starts.

The book also churns through the plot at an astonishing pace: before chapter eight we get Joseph's death, the confrontation at Monsieur Daae's grave, Carlotta's sabotaged performance, the masquerade ball and the fallen chandelier. I was beginning to wonder what the second half of the book could possibly involve: turns out it's the achingly long journey taken by Raoul and the Persian into the catacombs to try and save Christine, involving a torture chamber, a thwarted bombing attempt, and everyone and their grandfather wandering around the cellars, including a rat-catcher, members of the staff, and, well - this guy:

They could distinguish the shade sufficiently to see that it wore a cloak which shrouded it from head to foot.

"We've had a narrow escape: that shade knows me and has twice taken me to the managers' office."

"Is it someone belonging to the theatre police?"

"It's someone worse than that!" replied the Persian, without vouchsafing any further explanation.

In a footnote, Leroux elaborates:

Like the Persian, I can give no further explanation touching the apparition of this shade. Whereas, in this historic narrative, everything else will be normally explained, however abnormal the course of events may seem, I cannot give the reader expressly to understand what the Persian meant by the words," It is someone worse than that!" The reader must try to guess for himself, for I promised the ex-manager of the Opera to keep his secret regarding the extremely interesting and useful personality of the wandering, cloaked shade which, while condemning itself to live in the cellars the of Opera, rendered such immense services to those who, on gala evenings, for instance, ventured to stray away from the stage. I am speaking of a service of state; and, upon my word of honour, I can say no more.

Nothing else is said on the matter.

Being more familiar with the musical, there were plenty of other surprises in the book, such as the fact Raoul had an older brother who plays a fairly large role in the proceedings (though is eventually killed), that Madame Giry is more a figure of fun than Webber's imposing matron, and that little Meg is barely even a character. There's also Christine's patron, a surrogate mother she calls Mama Valerius who encourages her to believe the Angel of Music is real, and of course, the Persian - perhaps the most significant character to be omitted from the stage-show.

He's so important that several chapters are told in his own words, recounting his background with Erik and his experiences with Raoul in the catacombs, attempting to save Christine. And yet, I get why he was left out of the musical - most of his exposition is easily given to Madame Giry, and without him, Raoul can be the hero of the final act instead of the completely useless sack that the novel renders him as.

The biggest change comes in the finale, in which Christine is given the choice to twist one of two brass figurines: a scorpion or a grasshopper. As the Phantom tells her in veiled but clear terms, turning the scorpion means she has decided to live out her life as his wife (though not underground, he has plans to wear a false nose and integrate himself into society), and turning the grasshopper will set off explosives designed to bring down the entire Opera House (which is also the default option if she refuses to act).

She eventually turns the scorpion, which floods the chambers and destroys the barrels of gunpowder, and her act of submission - in which she allows Erik to kiss her forehead (at least according to his testimony) is enough to make him save Raoul and the Persian from the torture chamber and set Christine free.

So I find it interesting that Christine acts not just to save Raoul's life, but the lives of everyone in the theatre, even as the kiss is much more powerful in the musical, in which Christine proactively kisses Erik of her own volition, with intent and agency behind it. But I'll have more to say about Christine in my next Woman of the Month entry...

Miscellaneous Observations:

Remember how bizarre it was in the 2004 adaptation when the Phantom randomly had a white horse that he used to transport Christine down a short passageway before it disappeared from the film entirely? Believe it or not, it has a precedent in the novel, in which Erik steals a horse from the stables (the groom is seen complaining about it to the managers) and indeed uses it to transport Christine through the catacombs.

Erik is so extra, that he actually sleeps in a coffin. He states it's because he wants to get used to eternity. I mean, honestly!

Some direct quotes from the novel make it into the musical, like "little Lotte thought of everything and nothing," and "so it is to be war between us!" The context is a little different, but Webber definitely studied the text well.

With one exception (Christine visiting her father's grave) the musical takes place entirely in and below the Opera House, so it was a little disconcerting to see how widely travelled Erik really was; going to Perres with Christine, moving around Paris in a carriage, and even going to Raoul's house to try and intimidate him.

The musical ends with Erik still alive, disappearing deeper into the catacombs after Christine has left him, though the novel ends with evidence that Erik's body has been found, identified by the golden ring he gave to Christine. So it's a sad ending all told.

***

Having finally read the story in its original form, I feel it very much suffers from what Cleolinda called The Dracula Problem (or rather "People in Dracula Don't Know They're in Dracula"). In this case, The Phantom of the Opera is so ubiquitous that we already know the answers to the mysteries that Leroux develops. We know that the Angel of Music and the Opera Ghost are the same entity, and that he's a mortal man, that he's obsessed with Christine, and that she'll eventually run away with Raoul.

The book's format of providing the reader with tantalizing bits of evidence as to the veracity of the Opera Ghost's existence has dated badly, as we simply can't erase all those years of adaptations and retellings and pop-culture references that inform us exactly what happens in order to enjoy the unfolding mystery. Had Leroux gone for full Gothic Romance instead of True Crime documentary, perhaps the novel would have retained more of its original potency.

So in this particular case, the less you know about how the story unfolds, the more intriguing and suspenseful it is. Which is of course the height of irony considering the current discussion surrounding spoiler culture and its effect on how we engage with stories.

But despite some structural oddities, and a sad lack of insight into two of its main players, The Phantom of the Opera is still a damn good read, and an important one if you share my fascination for other people's fascination with the "only I can save the tortured murderer with the power of my love" subgenre.

But I'll have plenty more to say about Christine (and how she transcends this characterization) in a later post...