Phantom of the Opera (1925)

“Feast your eyes! Glut your soul on my accursed ugliness!” – Erik (The Phantom)

This particular version of Phantom of the Opera has been short listed so many times for a spot on the Shocktober list, mainly because it’s simply one of the first and one of the best horror movies ever made. It’s an enduring classic that has lasted, to date, 98 years. The Phantom is one of Universal Pictures’ most hallowed legacy characters. The idea originally was the kick off the Universal Takeover themed Shocktober 2000 with this, but at the last minute, I decided to go with all sound, no silents, and not have both this AND the 1943 version starring Claude Rains featured in the same year.

Why now? Well, Universal Studios’ Halloween Horror Nights attraction is this year not only covering The Exorcist as one of their walkthroughs, but this silent classic is also a walkthrough attraction. It seemed, in my mind to tie in perfectly well. And if it’s good enough for Universal, it’s good enough for Shocktober.

If ANY other reason was needed, I think a good old classic movie is the perfect antidote for the abhorrent Exorcist sequel I traumatised both you and I with last time.

What makes this move such a classic? It’s featured in every horror movie history I’ve ever picked up, the Phantom himself is immortalised in model kits, collector’s figurines, busts, t-shirts. The film itself has been lovingly and painstakingly restored on hi-def discs so it can be enjoyed by future generations. The story itself is a pretty brisk one, with no time wasted. But it’s not the first horror film by Universal. So why the status?

Two words.

Lon Chaney.

Lon Chaney was the first real horror movie star. He was a gifted mime, having been born of deaf parents. He also created his own make-up. Imagine that in this day and age. He would construct rigs to strap his legs to portray an amputee, he would weak a forty-pound rubber hump to distort his back to portray The Hunchback of Notre Dame in 1923. He would use wires to stretch out his eyes until sometimes, they would bleed, and other wires inside his mouth to distort his features. He would place egg white on his eye to make it appear blind. It’s unsurprising that he was known as The Man of a Thousand Faces. When Universal bought the rights to the Phantom of the Opera novel, it was reckoned that Chaney had to do it, or it couldn’t be done. Wise words. Chaney created an icon.

The difference between this and any other version I’ve seen, mainly Universal’s colour 1943 remake and Hammer’s 1962 entry is that those two give an origin story for the Phantom, showing him in a sympathetic light as a tortured, wronged composer who had his work stolen and was scarred facially in the process. This telling doesn’t bother with an origin, Erik the Phantom has no sympathetic qualities and the reason for his extreme facial disfigurement is never given, so I assume he was born that way. The scant backstory we have is that Erik is an escapee from Devil’s Island and is criminally insane. Also, he’s a practitioner of the black arts – though nothing is made of this last comment.

In the Paris Opera house, Christine Daae (Mary Philbin) a young up and coming singer is being mentored by a mysterious benefactor, who demands that the lead singer stand aside and let Christine sing or the consequences will be dire. Damn right they’ll be dire – the Phantom brings the huge chandelier crashing down on the audience to show he means business. The opera house is buzzing with reports of sightings of the legendary “Phantom” but his actual identity isn’t known, he’s just a shadowy figure who inhabits their seemingly limitless cellar area, which is at least five storeys deep, possibly more. The Phantom has built himself a cosy little hideaway there, complete with pipe organ, trap doors, and access via the Paris sewer system.

He keeps track of Christine by listening in everywhere. There’s a scene, shot in colour where she’s talking to her suitor on the roof of the opera house, and he’s there, among the gargoyles listening from a perch above the young lovers, dressed as the Masque of the Red Death. Although it makes no sense that he’s somehow hidden, despite his long, trailing cloak – the scene is eerie and effective.

I have to admit, Erik’s plan doesn’t make much sense, but he IS insane, so let’s go with that. He plans to give Christine a flavour of fame, then she’ll willingly live with him in his underground lair and sing only for him. But she has a boyfriend who tracks her down, along with his best friend, her brother.

The film’s most famous scene is the inevitable unmasking. Erik plays the pipe organ which Christine hesitantly reaches for the mask, drawing her hand back several times before finally pulling it off Erik’s face. The sudden reveal IS pretty shocking, and it’s worth noting that Chaney refused any publicity shots of his make-up prior to the film’s release. Not even his female co-star had seen it, so Mary Philbin’s onscreen reaction is real and genuine – she was literally seeing it for the first time.

As our gallant heroes come to the rescue, Erik subjects them to intense heat and tries to drown them as they make their way to his lair. But my favourite scene comes close to the end, where the mob is chasing Erik who tries to make his was to the Seine. Realising he’s trapped, he holds the mob at bay with a grenade. His mind has snapped so completely at this point that he actually mocks the mob by showing them that his hand is actually empty, so they basically beat him to death and throw his body in the river, and that’s it – roll the credits.

The ending is so fittingly abrupt in line with the pace of the rest of the film, it still packs a punch today – to me, anyway – every time I watch the film. I can only imagine the dumbstruck audience of the day leaving the movie theatres in a state of shell shock. Okay, to be frank and honest this particular version is probably unappealing to today’s audiences who demand more action and graphic content, not to mention colour and 5.1 sound as a bare minimum. And the performances can be considered overdone, too dramatic and pantomime-like – but in all honesty, I have to ask how many of today’s horror films will still be considered ground breaking classics in 98 years?

Case closed.