Silent Spectacle of Grand Sets and Grotesque Chaney
(originally posted on IMDb 26 November 2018)

"The Phantom of the Opera" was a fitting follow-up to the success of Universal's "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" (1923). It also starred Lon Chaney in a grotesque role in a tragic romance amid a grand re-creation of an iconic piece of Parisian architecture. Both are based on famous French novels. Unlike its predecessor, however, and, indeed, subsequent adaptations of Gaston Leroux's novel, "The Phantom of the Opera" maintains the Gothic horror of its source and doesn't succumb to pathetic romancing and excessive diversions into novelistic subplots and superfluous characters. Largely, it's pure spectacle and self-reflexively so. Moreover, its original silence prevents the descent subsequent screen versions befell by misappropriating the opera within the story to make movies (and a renowned stage production) that are themselves operas (e.g. the 1943, 1962 and 2004 versions, among others).

Chaney's Phantom and the architecture of the Palais Garnier prove a doubled spectacle. Until its dismantling a few years ago, the auditorium set was the oldest surviving movie set and was reused in other productions, including Universal's 1943 remake of "Phantom of the Opera." Recently, I also saw it employed for an interesting old-dark-house horror comedy, "The Last Warning" (1929). Other settings stand out as well here, though, including an exterior of the opera house, its grand staircase, the chandelier, the rooftop with a statue of Apollo, and the subterranean lair of the Phantom with its archways, canals, torture chambers and secret passages. I also like the use of mirrors, including one as a doorway to the lair and funhouse mirrors adorning one of the torture rooms.

Speaking of reflections, what lesser adaptations, such as the 1943 remake and the 1962 Hammer iteration, fail to realize is that the original play-within-the-play of "Faust" reflects the outer, main narrative's love-triangle dilemma for Christine: between her art, as represented by the Phantom (her "Angel of Music") and a normal life of romance as embodied by Raoul. The Faustian bargain that she has struck is that the demonic Phantom has trained her and sabotaged her competition to make her a diva in exchange for her obeying him and refusing Raoul. There's also a class element to the love triangle, which was more pronounced in the novel, which itself was a pulpy presentation of high-culture opera to a mass audience, as likewise are the movies. The Phantom literally occupies a lower stratum in his subterranean lair below the Palais Garnier; meanwhile, Raoul escorts Christine to its rooftop for his proposal. The scene that obliterates these social distinctions, the Bal Masque de l'Opera, where one's identity and class are disguised in the masquerade, has never been filmed better. For this scene alone, if one were to only view one of the prints of this film floating around today, they should see the shorter Eastman House print with the original two-strip Technicolor segment and Chaney standing out in the guise of the Red Death.

This one also features the best unmasking scene, which turns Chaney's Phantom into the film's second spectacle. It's a testament to Chaney's performance and makeup skills (as he applied his own) that, to this day, other phantoms are quite tame and easy on the eyes by comparison. He also makes the best of the mob chase sequence not from the book, but which may've been inspired by German films such as "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" (1920), as well as "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," and with "Frankenstein" (1931) would become a trope of Universal's horror output. The film has its flaws, though, and the rest of the acting--not merely frequent target Mary Philbin (with the fainting damsel-in-distress routine doing her no favors)--tends to be overly broad. Indeed, the often long-shot framing of the camera, while showcasing the grand sets, does necessitate some gesticulation--just as playing to the galleries of opera houses called for it from theatrical performances, such as in "Faust."

Furthermore, the production of "The Phantom of the Opera" was marred by fiddling with the original story, re-shoots and re-editing, which continued with a part-talkie reissue, and versions of the film distributed today continue to reflect this disorder, with availability ranging from a shorter but better-quality print and others that contain more of the original narrative but on black-and-white reduction prints lacking color (tinting/toning, dying and two-strip Technicolor segments). Besides the added mob, the role of the Persian was altered to the policeman Ledoux without re-shooting, which renders the production's Oriental coding of him with the fez and dark appearance rather confusing. The narrative is melodramatic, too, and relies on the soap-opera cliché of characters constantly eavesdropping to advance the plot. Moreover, although the longer versions may clear up some plot points, I think the pacing benefits from the later round of cutting.

Silence is an interesting benefit here. There are lots of letters in this one--more so than in the later talkie versions--which may work in conjunction with the film's silence and relatively-more-faithful adaptation in creating one of the more literary Phantom films. There's also some good use of the shadow of the Phantom, as well as that of a hanging. Then, there's also the voice of the Phantom--initially unseen by Christine and unheard for the spectator. For us, the Phantom's voice must be read, as in the book.

(Included in my ranking of the best films of 1925.)