the phaaaaaantom of the opera is there
Jan. 22nd, 2005 04:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aruanInside my mind. And probably will be for the coming week, apologies to anyone within hearing vicinity of whatever decibel I happen to be singing at.
down we plunge to the prison of my mind
You know, I was going into this movie as a sure thing. Period piece, theater-centric, caped mysterious tragic hero/villain, melodramatically scored musical - there really aren't very many kinks of mine this movie didn't hit. I knew nothing about it except the Ooh, pretteh! thrill I got every time I've come across the trailer in the past couple of months. And not that I wasn't crying within the first five minutes, because I was and through most of the movie, but yeesh, when it was bad, it was... *wince*
close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams
The first transition, however, between the broken chandelier lying on the floor in the present changing to the height of the theater's magnificence as it's hoisted back into place? With the gradual infusion of color and the blowing away of the dust? Fucking awesome.
my power over you grows stronger yet
So, Christine dear? Close your mouth. Really, it's okay sometimes. I understand your role calls for a lot of singing, but in between? It's not attractive, it makes your brainlessness obvious to all the world, and your jaw is a hinge joint for a reason.
helpless to resist the notes I write
More than once during the movie, I thought, I could be watching Moulin Rouge and enjoying myself so much more. Because wow, should I ever have occasion to run into Gerard Butler, I will shake his hand and ask if he fancies a shag sometime, but the rest of everyone else? I will walk right on past. The lip-synching was very distracting, the obviously action movie direction took away from what this movie needed, which was a soft touch after all the beating over the head the score does, and none of the rest of the characters were even marginally appealing. Example, Raoul? My mother calls men like him dishrags, except the Hungarian equivalent.
in this darkness which you know you cannot fight
Okay, so the phantom? I knew nothing about this musical when I walked in. I wanted to like it. I wanted to like him. I was all set to bawl my eyes out for the tragic hero hopelessly in love with the perfect unattainable heroine and dying some unjust death in a blaze of self-sacrifice or gross misunderstanding or some other weeklong depression-inducing scenario.
Instead, I get a sociopathic megalomaniacal murderer. *meep* That I felt any sympathy at all for him was a minor miracle. I mean, I get it, why he had to kill the people who saw him and those who would get between him and Christine, but even the things he said to her, that she somehow owed him something for this warped stalking thing he's done to her since she came to the theater. Not that she wasn't an idiot for giving him up for the boy who didn't even look twice at her until she sang, as the phantom astutely pointed out, and didn't so much as let her speak during their first encounter since they were running around in one another's paddling pools. Geez, a vaguely pedophilic recluse or an insipid prat? That's the kind of decision every girl should be lucky enough to have to make, thanks, Andy Webber.
in sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came
Now, honestly. This girl is either sexless, as![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
walkingshadow aka Best Best Friend Evah for coming to see this movie with me despite her aversion to melodrama, or mired so deeply in her Electra Complex, she was probably better off believing the phantom was her dead father. Because the whole Angel of Music business? Yowza. This girl is either soft in the head or just as warped from being raised in the theater as the phantom. Really, they would've made a much better pair than she and Raoul, with their matching psychoses and codependence.
only then can you belong to me
You know, this was an intensely creepy play. From the crazy phantom to the deeply daddy-fixated heroine, this movie was not hurting for Issues. In case it needed to be said after all those lyrics.
let your darker side give in
So, someone go over that ending with me again. Because it totally seemed like she engaged herself to the phantom with Raoul's ring, then married Raoul anyway. And her first song, Think of Me implores him to do just that when they've said goodbye and promises she'll do the same every day.
it's over now, the music of the night
However, at the end of the night, we sat through the credits and then some until I could get my bawling under control enough to get to the bathroom and splash some cool water on my face. I remember Music of the Night from when I was much younger - it's the only explanation I've got for the instant clench around my heart and stomach when the phantom first begins to sing it. And speaking of him, I think one of the things that destroyed me so thoroughly was that he didn't die. He didn't get to be with Christine, he lost his theater, and yet he carried on living. I don't handle meant-to-be things not working out very well, especially when one of the pair goes off with someone I'm supposed to accept as the "better" choice.
On a happier note, I plan on going in to work on Sunday and saying Daddy loves you, Christine! at my earliest opportunity. Just a little bit, I live for Justin's confused expression.
down we plunge to the prison of my mind
You know, I was going into this movie as a sure thing. Period piece, theater-centric, caped mysterious tragic hero/villain, melodramatically scored musical - there really aren't very many kinks of mine this movie didn't hit. I knew nothing about it except the Ooh, pretteh! thrill I got every time I've come across the trailer in the past couple of months. And not that I wasn't crying within the first five minutes, because I was and through most of the movie, but yeesh, when it was bad, it was... *wince*
close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams
The first transition, however, between the broken chandelier lying on the floor in the present changing to the height of the theater's magnificence as it's hoisted back into place? With the gradual infusion of color and the blowing away of the dust? Fucking awesome.
my power over you grows stronger yet
So, Christine dear? Close your mouth. Really, it's okay sometimes. I understand your role calls for a lot of singing, but in between? It's not attractive, it makes your brainlessness obvious to all the world, and your jaw is a hinge joint for a reason.
helpless to resist the notes I write
More than once during the movie, I thought, I could be watching Moulin Rouge and enjoying myself so much more. Because wow, should I ever have occasion to run into Gerard Butler, I will shake his hand and ask if he fancies a shag sometime, but the rest of everyone else? I will walk right on past. The lip-synching was very distracting, the obviously action movie direction took away from what this movie needed, which was a soft touch after all the beating over the head the score does, and none of the rest of the characters were even marginally appealing. Example, Raoul? My mother calls men like him dishrags, except the Hungarian equivalent.
in this darkness which you know you cannot fight
Okay, so the phantom? I knew nothing about this musical when I walked in. I wanted to like it. I wanted to like him. I was all set to bawl my eyes out for the tragic hero hopelessly in love with the perfect unattainable heroine and dying some unjust death in a blaze of self-sacrifice or gross misunderstanding or some other weeklong depression-inducing scenario.
Instead, I get a sociopathic megalomaniacal murderer. *meep* That I felt any sympathy at all for him was a minor miracle. I mean, I get it, why he had to kill the people who saw him and those who would get between him and Christine, but even the things he said to her, that she somehow owed him something for this warped stalking thing he's done to her since she came to the theater. Not that she wasn't an idiot for giving him up for the boy who didn't even look twice at her until she sang, as the phantom astutely pointed out, and didn't so much as let her speak during their first encounter since they were running around in one another's paddling pools. Geez, a vaguely pedophilic recluse or an insipid prat? That's the kind of decision every girl should be lucky enough to have to make, thanks, Andy Webber.
in sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came
Now, honestly. This girl is either sexless, as
walkingshadow aka Best Best Friend Evah for coming to see this movie with me despite her aversion to melodrama, or mired so deeply in her Electra Complex, she was probably better off believing the phantom was her dead father. Because the whole Angel of Music business? Yowza. This girl is either soft in the head or just as warped from being raised in the theater as the phantom. Really, they would've made a much better pair than she and Raoul, with their matching psychoses and codependence.only then can you belong to me
You know, this was an intensely creepy play. From the crazy phantom to the deeply daddy-fixated heroine, this movie was not hurting for Issues. In case it needed to be said after all those lyrics.
let your darker side give in
So, someone go over that ending with me again. Because it totally seemed like she engaged herself to the phantom with Raoul's ring, then married Raoul anyway. And her first song, Think of Me implores him to do just that when they've said goodbye and promises she'll do the same every day.
it's over now, the music of the night
However, at the end of the night, we sat through the credits and then some until I could get my bawling under control enough to get to the bathroom and splash some cool water on my face. I remember Music of the Night from when I was much younger - it's the only explanation I've got for the instant clench around my heart and stomach when the phantom first begins to sing it. And speaking of him, I think one of the things that destroyed me so thoroughly was that he didn't die. He didn't get to be with Christine, he lost his theater, and yet he carried on living. I don't handle meant-to-be things not working out very well, especially when one of the pair goes off with someone I'm supposed to accept as the "better" choice.
On a happier note, I plan on going in to work on Sunday and saying Daddy loves you, Christine! at my earliest opportunity. Just a little bit, I live for Justin's confused expression.
