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Unmasking The Phantom of the Opera @ Your Library

        

      

(Can you find the phantoms pictured above mentioned below?)

When I was in high school, the frenzy over the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical The Phantom of the Opera was in full sway, at least for the theater geeks. In the days before there were places to share fanfiction online, my friend Mindy filled legal pads with stories that put her in the role of Christine Daae. I cannot ever begin to tell you how many times I listened to the music, forwarding and rewinding to the best parts (yay for audiotapes)!  I saved money for six months to go on the drama club field trip to New York where we stayed in a ratty hotel near Times Square and saw Broadway shows every night, of course including Phantom of the Opera. That show, in what I remember as an enormous, elegant theater, pulled us in to become a part of it. I’ll never forget the giant crystal chandelier over the audience crashing down onto the stage (not over me, because I was in one of the cheap balcony seats high up in the back– but what a view)! That show, along with The Mystery of Edwin Drood, which I also saw on that trip, slammed home to me the power of live performance. I loved musicals before, but I’ve been an opera fiend ever since.

But I am a reader. And having learned that the musical was based on a book, I tracked down my own copy of the novel by Gaston Leroux and read it cover to cover, including the introductory notes. I must have a shorter attention span these days, or maybe it’s trying to read it while also putting the kids to bed that made it difficult to get through the first pages, but as with Frankenstein, it’s worth it. You can get lost in Leroux’s Paris Opera House, where the novel is set.  It’s not difficult to see how the superstitious could come  to believe their theater was haunted.  Lloyd Webber couldn’t replicate the details of Leroux’s book, but in a theater, suggestion is a powerful element in establishing setting. I looked forward to seeing how the musical would translate to film. And it didn’t, really. Trying to include the minute details that work so well in the book onto the screen just didn’t have the power of either the story or the musical, and it failed them both. The sad truth is that, as much as book lovers often say that the adaptation failed because it wasn’t true to the book, sometimes the adaptation fails because it tries too hard.

The classic horror film is a totally different creature. I have to admit I have never seen it all the way through. I have seen the unmasking scene, though. There is something about black and white that strips a story down to its basics, and Lon Chaney, Sr. is terrifying, with makeup, lighting, and camera shots combining to make some very scary moments. I was introduced to this short video of the unmasking scene that shows two different versions of the unmasking scene, the original and the one most of us are familiar with, and in the original, it appears that he is looking straight out at us as his disfigured face emerges from the shadows in a very menacing way.

Since I haven’t seen the entire thing I can’t say for sure how it compares to Leroux’s novel, but I can say this, just from watching these two versions of the same scene– it doesn’t take much to alter the look, meaning, and feel of  a story or character. Small changes make a big difference.

It’s kind of astonishing, the ways the Phantom of the Opera has morphed through our culture, taking its place in the pantheon of iconic monsters we learn about even from picture books and poetry (like Adam Rex’s Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich). There are references and appearances everywhere, from video games to music, romance novels to children’s series books(the Bailey School Kids strike again!), comics to television cartoons. While sometimes he’s still presented as a frightening monster, he’s not threatening to most people today in the way he once was.  The Phantom doesn’t get the kind of press the major monsters do, so librarians take note: tis the season to find those variations and give them the spotlight. There’s something there for everyone, from Twilight-loving teens and tweens, to horror fans, to seven year old monster lovers (I’m not going to list them here, but Amazon shows at least a dozen adaptations for children at varying reading levels).

Whether he’s presented as a disfigured monster, a romantic antihero, or a rooster who dreams of singing opera, though, the masked Phantom can awaken imagination, and, I hope, draw them in to his world, opening eyes to the many forms of the music of the night.

How Fiction Saves Us– The Monstrous as a Path to Understanding and Empathy

The World Trade Towers, September 11, 2001– from Beware of Images

This photograph of a man falling from one of the World Trade Towers came to my attention on September 11 of this week. It stopped me in my tracks. For me, with knowledge of the events of that day in 2001, this image of one individual, falling, is arresting enough. I don’t have to look straight on at the fiery explosions that many people envision.

A commentary on the photograph suggested that (I’m paraphrasing liberally, to address just what personally struck me) as time passes, terrible tragedies lose their “original humanity, urgency, and intimacy”, that by fictionalizing disasters we make them “larger than life”, using “spectacular images” to accomplish our own ends, and to express “…our fears and hopes, our dreams and nightmares”.

I understand the frustration over seeing human tragedies used cynically and disrespectfully to survivors, to create an advantage for some person, group, or cause, which was really the point of the commentary. This is actually a pretty spectacular image to use to make that point. It made me stop and look and see that man’s story (which is part of a larger one) in a flash, frozen there mid-fall. And this is what fiction can do. It can freeze frame a moment like this one, and it also can give us a larger than life story, a context for the times when our world does explode and each of us  is truly shaken.

King Kong, 1933

King Kong (1933). At the top of the Empire State Building– from the Los Angeles Times, courtesy of Warner Brothers Entertainment.

So, I’ve written about that here– my response to this idea that the human element loses its importance to us once we give ourselves to fiction.

 

The Monstrous as a Path to Understanding and Empathy

It is easy to look down on a fascination with fictional monsters and un-nameable fears. Surely there are enough horrors in the tangible present without inflicting imaginary horrors on ourselves?

It can be too difficult for us to look in the mirror at the world we live in, the world we have created, and face it, and ourselves, head on. Like an ostrich, we can close our ears and eyes to the wrongs and evils that surround us as things fall apart, and a lot of us do. We are afraid to see what is happening—what is seen can’t be unseen.

Fiction allows us to view the horrors around us on the edge of a mirror, from the corner of our eye. We may not be facing them head on, but fiction offers us opportunities to experience fear, and visions of destruction and survival. In fiction, we witness bravery, cowardice, evil, heroism, hopelessness, and powerlessness, in dealing with forces that seem unstoppable. The awe-inspiring sacrifices that some people make, and the horrifying choices of others, are emotionally wrenching and gut-clenching.

In fiction, the unseen can be revealed. Sometimes it is defeated and sometimes merely driven back. Monsters, both human and other, may cut a swath of destruction, but it is sometimes possible to feel sympathy for them as ostracized and misunderstood.  And the beautiful may be true monsters, corrupted within. All of these things happen in our daily lives, and facing them head-on can be more than some of us can handle. Rather than looking away entirely, though, horror fiction and movies give us the chance to begin to see our way through difficult times and destroying fears.

 

Frankenweenie as a Gateway to Literature and Life Lessons

We watched Frankenweenie last night (I explained to the kids that some parts would be sad or scary and they voted to try it) and both during the movie and this morning it was interesting to see what they had picked up. I don’t think Tim Burton was trying to teach my kids about the literature and movies of the horror genre, or offer them life lessons, but Frankenweenie opened up opportunities to talk about these things.

Most people probably don’t have kids who immerse themselves in everything they can find out about monster movies and stop motion animation. But I do have one of those kids. To be clear, he hasn’t seen the Universal monster movies, but he is fascinated by them and reads everything he can find. He’s watched a lot of the Japanese monster movies and cheesy science fiction movies of the 1950s and 1960s, and has managed to see many of the movies Ray Harryhausen worked on. He also has started to notice plays on words, and he saw a lot of things in Frankenweenie that he picked up on right away, like, say, a main character named Victor Frankenstein who digs up a body in a graveyard and brings a creature back to life during an electrical storm. “This movie is like Frankenstein! The name is the same!” He noticed that Victor’s dog is named Sparky, “like electricity has sparks, and Sparky has electricity.”  The turtle that comes back to life is gigantic “like Gamera”! It’s also named Shelley “because turtles have shells”. I told him that Shelley was also the last name of Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein. “Oh yeah! That’s cool! The name is both of those things!” We also talked about how Elsa’s last name, Van Helsing, is the name of the vampire slayer in Dracula, and that she gets kidnapped by a bat; that the mayor is called the Burgermeister, like in Rankin-Bass’ stop motion Christmas special “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town”; that the movie, which is a stop-motion animation movie, starts with Victor showing a stop-animation film; that the movie is black and white, like the original Frankenstein movie; and that the science teacher looked a lot like Vincent Price. That’s a lot to unpack from an animated children’s movie.

The movie had a much different effect on my daughter. The attack of the reanimated pets on the town really scared her and I had to leave the room with her for awhile. She asked “did anybody get hurt”? Well, the attack is scary, but nobody is really hurt, and parts are even a little funny. Then she wanted to know why the animals turned out differently from Sparky. So we talked about how Victor decided to bring Sparky back because he loved him, but the other kids brought their pets back because they wanted to win the science fair. That was something the science teacher had talked about, the importance of doing science with love, and doing the right thing. Then she asked if bringing Sparky back, even out of love, was the right thing. At that point in the movie, Sparky had escaped from Victor’s house and returned to the cemetery. It seemed like that was where he wanted to be, at rest in the cemetery. “Sparky wasn’t ready to die. But he did, and he wants to be at rest, so maybe he should be at rest. Victor should let him.”  Smart little girl.

Later, both kids asked why the parents made the science teacher leave, because “it’s important to learn science”. It’s hard to explain to kids that adults don’t always want to understand the world, or want their kids to understand. “But science is good”! I reminded them that the science teacher had said that science is neither bad nor good– and that’s why you should be careful with how you use it.

That message gets somewhat lost at the movie’s ending, because after Sparky saves the day at the expense of his own life, and Victor is able to finally let go of his grief, his parents convince the rest of the adults in town to bring back Sparky once again. The same unthinking adults who got rid of the science teacher out of fear reanimate a dead dog without any further thought as to whether it’s right or wrong (I didn’t discuss this part with my kids). In spite of the pasted-on happy ending, though, Frankenweenie, quite unexpectedly, offered a lot of food for thought as well as entertainment value.

Although most people aren’t watching scary movies to improve their cultural literacy or provide them with opportunities for deep philosophical discussions, we can watch out for those teachable moments. It doesn’t take forever to point out a literary or cultural reference when you see it, and if your kids are interested, the Internet makes it easy to explore further. If your kids come up with a question that they really want to talk about, take it seriously and do your best to help them figure things out.  In Frankenweenie, Tim Burton provided a gateway, but I held my kids’ hands as we walked through to a larger world.

Here are a few other scary movies for kids that might lend themselves to more than just entertainment. As always, not every movie is appropriate for every child.

 

Toy Story

Monsters, Inc

Spirited Away

The Neverending Story

Coraline