Certain musicals become revered classics for their ability to whisk you away to another world with their grandeur and opulence. That's how I felt when I saw "The Phantom Of The Opera," first on Broadway and each subsequent time in Denver. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the "old" production, and it was already quite spectacular, so why even bother making it "new"? Unlike some musicals, this one holds up pretty well, even 30 years after its 1986 premiere. As it stands, the current touring version of "Phantom" is a ghastly imitation of everything that makes the original show such an effective piece of theater. Instead of being whisked away, I was painfully reminded that I was still trapped in my seat.
Since the Phantom haunts an opera house, let's start there. Most (if not all) of the show's singing is incredibly operatic, and in this regard, the actors performed in a generally capable manner. Except for one, not-so-minor thing: their vocalizations needed to make the audience feel something about the characters' journeys. Opera without emotion is just loud, high notes being shrieked at no one in particular. Clearly, one must be able to hit those notes, but it's not just about technical precision. Without this emotive range, the actors ran the risk of being robotic and the show started to drag. Considering it's nearly three hours long, they better keep it moving!
The fast-paced farce of "Notes," typically a favorite song of mine, seemed much slower than its past iterations. Presumably to allow the actors to emphasize their words (and catch their breath), but problems with diction were rampant here as well as throughout the show. Composer Andrew Lloyd Webber is known for his dynamic use of counterpoint, but the song's brilliant effect was ruined by the poorly paced tempo and the muddled voices. I also strongly suspect that Christine, the object of the Phantom's obsession, pre-recorded her demanding solo that closes the titular song. Actress Kaitlyn Davis was unusually blocked at the side of the stage with her back to the audience for the majority of this scene, and when she did face forward for the big final note, her voice cracked quite obviously. All singers have bad nights, but this attempt at subterfuge seemed awkward and forced. Why not just use an understudy instead of jarring anyone with eyes and ears right out of this signature moment?
Even the typically magnificent set pieces left something to be desired. A large, central column rotated between scenes and unfurled in segments, making efficient use of the space. Unlike previous configurations, though, it didn't convincingly portray the splendor or distance of the various locations. More often than not, the stage seemed too sparse for a production of this magnitude. In particular, the rooftop near the end of the first act and the cemetery late in the second act were barely more than glorified props and backdrops.
All of these slights pale in comparison to the flat-out boring treatment of the show's infamous chandelier. It's always been the case that after the auction that opens the musical, the chandelier is uncovered and illuminated, rising majestically during the overture from the stage to its new home above the audience. In this production, it's already positioned above the crowd, and for its instrumental cue, it rises no more than 10 feet. The disappointment continues when its climactic drop at the end of Act One no longer sends the chandelier crashing toward the stage. Instead, it just flickers and shakes and drops those 10 measly feet. Redemption is impossible when an iconic moment in stage history gets reduced to a terrible and ultimately pointless special effect.
The hits (or should I say misses) keep on coming in "Masquerade," the formerly impeccable ensemble number that opens Act Two. Traditionally staged on a grand staircase, this time around finds the players in a gilded, mirrored hallway. It certainly fits the period for turn-of-the-century Paris, but it doesn't fit the scope of an allegedly large-scale production to have everyone placed on the same level. Staggering the action on different steps added unpredictability to an already intricate scene. Most insulting is the Phantom's entrance into this celebration, which is another dreadful anticlimax to say the least. Originally, his sudden appearance right in the middle of the fray is startling, and his chilling descent on the staircase set to each downbeat of the music is perfectly ominous. In this staging -- oh, how I wish I were making this up -- he literally walks in the back door. No unsettling fanfare as he approaches; he just strolls into the room, completely lacking in surprise as well as originality.
Which brings me to the Phantom himself. As discussed earlier, actor Chris Mann is a suitable singer. Regrettably, he brought little depth to the character, playing him utterly devoid of even the remotest sense of menace or foreboding. In the throes of such a hollow portrayal, the Phantom's wounded thirst for power and unrequited desire for Christine fail to elicit any sympathy; rather, he comes across as nothing more than a spoiled brat perpetually on the verge of a tantrum for not getting his way. While the show may be larger than life, it does leave room for subtlety and nuance, but Mann found neither.
The production itself doesn't seem to tolerate any mystery surrounding the Phantom's presence either. While I did appreciate a brief glimpse of him hiding in the shadows during the opening auction, we actually see him strangle the lead stagehand later in the show. The victim's sudden appearance during a ballet used to be shocking and arguably could have been an accident, as the managers desperately claim. And don't even get me started on the digital projections of the Phantom's shadow. It looks much creepier to have the natural distortions of angled light spread across the stage than having blatantly phony swirls of his cape. Worse still, the timing was off for the pyrotechnics that the Phantom uses to taunt the characters, making them less indicative of his possible supernatural abilities and more of an unintended punchline.
But no detail was more offensive to theatrical purists like myself than the Phantom's cloak... which had sparkling lapels. I repeat: The Phantom Of The Opera SPARKLED. I'm on my best behavior during performances of any kind, but I'm pretty sure an audible "What the hell is THAT?" escaped my mouth. Last I checked, this wasn't "Twilight: The Musical." The Phantom is supposed to be a sinister yet elusive figure who's so in touch with darkness that he sings no less than four times about embracing the music of the night. Theater is meant to start conversations, but no one should ever be put in the unenviable position of defending or refuting the merits of giving the Phantom more flair.
My questions about who thought any of these changes would make the show "new" and/or "spectacular" will continue to linger. To be blunt, I may never see this musical again, just so I can preserve its former glory in my mind. I didn't even get to the part where Christine non-verbally considers jumping off the roof at the end of the first act -- of course, because her death would have fixed everything and NOT sent the Phantom into a blinding, apocalyptic rage. Or the finale, where I couldn't fathom why the mob now reaches his lair in time to witness what used to be a clever, solitary disappearance. This disruption of illusion is an apt metaphor for the revisions that plague the entire production: stage magic only works when it's stealthy and seamless.
In all fairness, perhaps these changes -- which did nothing to add to or improve the show -- can be boiled down to simple budgetary decisions? I honestly don't see how that's possible. "Phantom" is still a top-grossing attraction, a testament to its staying power among audiences. People who attended this tour for the first time likely didn't notice that anything was wrong, but returning guests couldn't have missed it. All I can say is that if this version had been my first experience with "The Phantom Of The Opera," then I wouldn't have left the venue with any respect for the legacy of this influential musical.
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