The Sound of Silence: The Phantom of the Opera (1925)

I remember when I would read up on the classic monster flicks in the Crestwood House book series as a kid, I would always look at the back of each book, which listed the other movie monsters and individual films they'd covered. Though my school's library had a number of them, while the public library near my aunt's home in Monteagle only had a few, the latter had one on The Invisible Man, which was never even mentioned in the listings in the books at my school. And that particular book's listing had another one I hadn't seen: The Phantom of the Opera. Neither of the libraries ever got a hold of that particular book, but I do remember being a bit intrigued by that title, as I knew what a phantom was (somewhat). But, at the same time, I was too young to know what an opera was, nor did I yet understand the concept of silent films, despite often reading about them. It wasn't until I saw the documentary, Universal Horror, on Turner Classic Movies on Halloween in 1998 that I got my first real glimpse of many of the classic horror movies I'd previously only read about, including Phantom, and it was also where I began to learn what silent movies were. I can't really recall my reaction to the clips from Phantom but I do remember being a little startled by his face when they showed the famous unmasking scene. Nonetheless, that documentary, as well as that whole month in general on TCM, particularly the weekend before Halloween (I've talked about it many times in the past and will have to do so many more throughout this month), got me obsessed with seeing all the classic horror films, which eventually led me to The Phantom of the Opera. I got in on video for Christmas in 2001 and, while it wasn't the first silent movie I'd ever actually seen, as I'd seen a bit of Nosferatu by that point, it was the first I saw all the way through. The main thing I remember from that first viewing was being distracted by how the movie proved to be much longer than the 79 minute running time on the back of the VHS box due to the frame rate, as I had to be somewhere at a certain time, which hindered my enjoyment. But, after repeated viewings, I did grow to truly appreciate the film more. However, as interesting and, ofttimes, beautifully dream-like as I find them to be, silent films aren't what I generally go for when I'm in the mood for classic horror, or movies in general, as I normally put on something from the 30's or later. Make no mistake, I certainly enjoy The Phantom of the Opera, and do think it's the best adaptation of this story I've seen, as well as the one I've seen the most, but it's not a film I revisit very often. 

When I did my first, spur of the moment review of this film back in October of 2012, I knew nothing of its convoluted, confusing release history, nor did I expect to learn that the version I and most others had seen over the years was not what audiences saw in 1925, but rather a cobbled together patchwork of both that original release and the 1929 sound reissue. When I realized what I'd bungled into during my research back then, my heart sank, as I felt totally unprepared and overwhelmed, and tried to do the best I could. Looking back, I think I did a pretty good job, under the circumstances, but this time around, I'm going to try to make sure I get this twisted story as straight as I possibly can. It's going to be difficult, though, as there are many aspects of it that are totally baffling, with many questions that have no answers. And just one last heads up: I will be referring to the common "Eastman House" version for much of the review, as it's what I and most others have seen.

As the sound of a ballet performance permeates the Paris Opera House, the current management signs it over to a pair of new owners. Before departing, they warn them of a ghost rumored to haunt the building, which they laugh off as nonsense. However, they're told that the gentleman who frequents Box Five won't find it so funny. Again, the new managers take it as a joke, but are later told the box's occupant is a cloaked man who doesn't speak or show his face. Seeing for themselves, they do see a man wearing a cloak, and he disappears as soon as they run out and then look back in. After the performance, the dancers are frightened by a shadowy figure prowling around backstage, followed by the appearance of a mysterious man wearing a fez. Meanwhile, the new owners learn that Carlotta, the house's prima donna, has received a threatening letter from this "Phantom," demanding that Christine Daae sing the lead role in the production of Faust they are putting on Wednesday night, and that any interference will prove disastrous. That night, Christine does indeed play the lead, to thunderous applause. After the performance, she's visited in her dressing room by her lover, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, who wishes to marry her. However, she says she can never leave the opera, much to his chagrin. When he leaves, Christine hears, from within the walls, the voice of the mentor who has taught and guided her up to now, demanding that she forget everything except her career, and him. Before the next performance, Carlotta gets another note warning her not to sing, as do the managers, but she does so, regardless. During her scene, the enormous chandelier crashes down on the audience. In the ensuing chaos, Christine is drawn by the voice through a secret door behind her dressing room mirror and meets her master in the catacombs beneath the Opera House. A masked man dressed in black, with a cape and a hat, he takes her to his lair, declaring his love for her and identifying himself as Erik; Christine, who's already frightened of him, soon realizes he's the Phantom of the Opera. Although hurt by her rejection, it's only when she disobeys him and removes his mask, revealing a ghastly, skeleton-like face, that the demented Phantom vows to make her his prisoner. Though she promises not to see Raoul again, Christine goes to him for help to escape. But when the Phantom learns of this betrayal, he intends to make them both pay.

Rupert Julian

Though he wasn't at all fond of horror films, and would later prove resistant to his son's desire for the studio to produce such films when he became of head of production, it was Universal founder and president Carl Laemmle who came up with the idea of making a film version of Gaston Leroux's 1910 novel, The Phantom of the Opera. He met Leroux while on vacation in France in 1922, and when he mentioned his admiration for the Paris Opera House, the author gave him a copy of his book. Upon reading it, supposedly in one night, Laemmle bought the rights, intending it as a vehicle specifically for Lon Chaney, especially after The Hunchback of Notre Dame proved an enormous hit for Universal in 1923. But the film's production was anything but smooth, and a lot of that came down to the director, New Zealand-born Rupert Julian. Julian started out as a stage actor in both his native country and Australia, before emigrating to the United States in 1911. After acting some more on stage and in film, he soon turned to directing and had a breakthrough with 1918's The Kaiser, the Beast of Berlin, which he also starred in, as well as wrote and produced. After completing Universal's 1923 film, Merry-Go-Round, after original director Erik von Stroheim was let go, Universal hired Julian to direct Phantom. Ironically, while Julian is said to have insisted that the movie couldn't be done without Lon Chaney, by the time filming was underway, the two of them absolutely hated each other. Chaney was far from alone, as Julian, who was throwing his weight around now that he was considered the studio's star director, managed to alienate virtually the entire cast and crew. His relationship with Chaney, however, was the most contentious, and I've heard it was due to Julian making the mistake of trying to alter his characterization of the Phantom, which the perfectionist actor wouldn't stand for. Cinematographer Charles Van Enger would later recall that he had to act as a mediator between them, relaying Julian's direction to Chaney, whose response is said to have been, "Tell Julian to go to hell!" When shooting was completed, there was a preview screening in January of 1925, a month before the New York premiere. But the film received a negative response and so, the premiere was cancelled and Laemmle ordered extensive reshoots. Julian, either through his own accord or because he was fired, left the production for good around this time. He directed a few more movies afterward but, following the advent of sound, his career took a nose-dive. He made two sound films in 1930, one of which was The Cat Creeps, a 98% lost sound remake of 1927's The Cat and the Canary, but after that, his career was over. He died of a stroke in 1943, at the age of 64.

Edward Sedgwick, who was working in Universal's western unit and would go on to direct many of Buster Keaton's films at MGM in the late 20's and early 30's, as well as work with Laurel and Hardy, was assigned to film the re-shoots, while original screenwriter Elliot Clawson, along with another man, Robert Schrock, wrote new material. This second version, which focused more on action and comedy, actually fared worse when it was previewed in April, meaning there was more work to be done. Laemmle next brought in well-known director and editor Lois Weber, who was working at Universal as the head of story development. She, along with co-editor Maurice Pivar, extensively recut the film, dispensing with much of Sedgwick's material and replacing it with a good chunk of what Rupert Julian originally shot. It was this third version that was finally released in September and became a massive hit for Universal, proving to be an even bigger hit than The Hunchback of Notre Dame. That's far from the end of this complex mess of a story but we'll save that for later.

For the first act, the Phantom himself is mainly an eerie, shadowy figure we see prowling around the backstage and cellars of the Paris Opera House (even in the background of the opening credits), speaking to Christine from within the walls, and using hidden panels to leave behind threatening messages. For me, the creepiest shot of him in the whole movie is when the new managers peek in on Box 5 and see him sitting there in the dark, watching the ballet performance, with his back to them. They run out in fear, then quickly compose themselves, but when they re-enter the box, he's disappeared. Speaking of which, even though we come to know the Phantom as Erik, a deformed man living in the catacombs beneath the Opera House, there are still hints that there is something supernatural about him. Not only can he appear and disappear like a ghost, regardless of there being secret doors and panels in the walls, but there are moments where he seems to have a hypnotic, Dracula-like influence over Christine. She seems to be in a bit of trance when she hears his voice, and when she meets him for the first time, there are blurry POV shots of her looking at his mask. You could argue that she's simply startled by his appearance and on the verge of fainting, but she looks really dazed to me. We do eventually learn that the Phantom is an expert in the "Black Art," likely alluding to witchcraft, which could account for some of this. But, at the same time, we see that he has to use a snorkel to breathe underwater, and at the end of the movie, he's able to be hunted down and tossed into the river, so he's still a flesh and blood human.

Like many of the characters Lon Chaney played throughout his career, and also like many of the classic movie monsters we'll spend time with this month, the Phantom, despite how hideous, demented, and capable of evil he is, is a pitiable character. In his scenes with Christine, you learn he's a man who's been reviled by others his entire life due to his appearance and now, after knowing nothing but torment and melancholia, aches for the love of the woman he has helped make the star of the opera. As he sums it up best,"If I am the Phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so. If I shall be saved, it will be because your love redeems me. Men once knew me as Erik, but for many years I have lived in these cellars, a nameless legend." In many ways, the Phantom is kind of like Count Dracula. Not only does he dress in black and often wears a cape, but we learn he sleeps in a coffin and, as Dracula has been portrayed in many versions, yearns for release from his hellish existence. His line when Christine finds his coffin, "It keeps me mindful of that other dreamless sleep that cures all ills... forever!", has sort of the same meaning as Dracula's line in the 1931 Tod Browning film, "To die. To be really dead. That must be glorious." Though no reason for his grotesque deformity is given (we can guess that, like in the original novel, it's a birth defect), we later learn snippets of his past. During the Second Revolution, he was confined in the very chambers where he now lives, and he has recently escaped from the penal colony on Devil's Island, having been sent there because of his madness. He's also a self-educated musician, particularly skilled at playing the organ, and, again, is a master of the "Black Art." And as we'll get into later, he's rigged the cellars beneath the Opera House with a number of deadly booby traps of his own design.

After Christine faints upon learning her master is the Phantom, the next morning he leaves her many pairs of nice shoes and dresses, along with a note, telling her that, as long she loves the spirit of Erik and doesn't touch his mask, she will be free. It's possibly intended as a test of love, to see if she can learn to love him for who he is and conquer her fear of what lurks behind his mask. However, she can't contain her curiosity and, as he's playing the organ, removes his mask, revealing his hideous

face. Enraged at how she just had to see the deformed freak that he is, he grabs her, laughs maniacally, and yells, "Feast your eyes, glut your soul on my accursed ugliness!" But once his rage dissipates, it's replaced with sadness over how she didn't listen to him. She begs for him to let her go and he opts to prove his love by doing so... for the time being. He then adds, "But, remember, you are mine, mine, and shall not see your lover again! If you do, it is death to you both!" After this, he

quickly learns that Christine broke her promise, overhearing her and Raoul's plan to flee Paris after Christine's last performance. But instead of killing her, he abducts her back to his lair and, berating her for lying to him, the one who made her who she is in the opera, demands her love. He later gives her an ultimatum, to become his bride if she wants to save Raoul from one of his deathtraps. At one point, he tricks her into "saving" Raoul from being 

blown up by filling the chamber with water to drown him. Christine pleads with the Phantom to save her lover, saying she'll do whatever he wants, and he complies. As Christine comforts Raoul once he's been saved, the Phantom could very well kill them right then and there, and he obviously wants to, as he's seething at the sight of them together. Then, when he hears the sound of a torch-wielding mob storming his lair, he kidnaps Christine and

uses Raoul's carriage in an escape attempt through the Paris streets. This was the ending shot by Edward Sedgwick (given how westerns were his specialty at the time, it fits), replacing the original, truer to the book ending, where Christine kisses the Phantom and he's so moved that his body just gives out. In the final moments, the Phantom, cornered on the edge of the river by the mob, acts like he has a grenade or something threatening in his hand. After staving off the mob, he reveals that there's nothing there and laughs maniacally as they attack and throw him into the river.

When both we and Christine actually see the Phantom for the first time, he's wearing a tuxedo, a black cape, a Fedora, and an odd-looking face-mask, with a bottom rim made up of a type of transparent fabric, whereas the rest is made up of a solid material. But what everyone remember is the ghastly face behind the mask: skull-like, with sunken eyes, a nose that's pointed upwards, a severely balding head of hair, and hideous rotted teeth. Lon Chaney had a strong desire to recreate

the description of the Phantom in the original novel and, as a result, this portrayal has, like the film as a whole, remained the most accurate and can also be considered the first iconic Universal monster. Chaney, of course, was just as famous for his acting as he was for the very painful makeup methods he would put himself through to achieve the look he wanted for a character and, like his other most famous role, Quasimodo, the Phantom was far from an exception. Exactly how he created

the look for the Phantom has become very exaggerated and over-hyped throughout the years, but it's now generally believed he put black makeup around his eyes to make them look sunken-in, used putty and wadding in his mouth to exaggerate his cheekbones, put on a skullcap to raise his forehead, glued his ears to his head, and wore false teeth with prongs to make his smile look like a skull. Most painfully, he applied putty to the

tip of his nose, which hid two wires that were inserted into his nostrils and pulled them upwards. Similarly iconic as the makeup is the Phantom's costume as the "Red Death" in the Technicolor costume ball scene, which is a very bright red, with a skull mask, big black hat with a big red feather, and a walking cane with a small skull atop it. People probably remember that costume more than his actual mask.

Lon Chaney's Phantom is so iconic that the only downside is that much of the rest of the cast can't even hope to match him, and that's especially true of Christine Daae and Raoul de Chagny. Mary Philbin is certainly lovely as Christine, but when you get right down to it, she's nothing more than a traditional damsel in distress. I also find her to be kind of shallow in how she's willing to just drop her beau for her singing career, as well as agree to meet with and love this mysterious man whom she has never seen before simply because he helped her become an opera star. But when she learns how strange and eerie he is, that he's the Phantom, and later sees his face, she goes running back to Raoul, begging him to save her. Now, to be fair, it's hinted that the Phantom has a melodious voice and so, Christine, who describes it as the "Spirit of Music" in the other version, was likely so enchanted that she felt it had to come from a very beautiful man and figured he was playfully hiding a handsome face beneath the mask. Still, that's shallow, and she never once takes any pity on Erik, even after he tells her how horribly he's been treated his entire life because of the way he looks, and she even uses his love for her as a way to manipulate him into letting her go so she can reunite with Raoul. I'm not saying she must love him after she sees his deformed face, and, yeah, he can be a very possessive, monstrous creature, but, again, one would hope she would understand and feel for him, even a little bit. But nope, her reaction is, "Ew, you're horrible. I want nothing to do with you. I'm going back to my handsome man, whom I left for you."

Similarly, Viscount Raoul de Chagny (Norman Kerry) is exceptionally good-looking but there's even less to say about his character. These kinds of good-looking but bland leading men are a dime a dozen in old horror and science fiction films, stretching from the Silent Era on into the 60's, but Kerry's role as Raoul is especially thankless. Initially, all he has to play with is being turned away by Christine in favor of her singing career and her mysterious master, much to his frustration and befuddlement, and then, he must protect and save her from the Phantom. During the latter half of the movie, Raoul, despite how Christine unceremoniously dumped him at first, does come across as genuinely loving towards her (making him a slightly better character than her), comforting her when she becomes frightened about how the Phantom knows of their plot to escape and telling her that his coach is ready to whisk them away once her last performance is over (they could just leave, regardless, but then, of course, there wouldn't be a movie). But, in the end, the Phantom succeeds in abducting her back to his lair and, what's more, Raoul doesn't save the day at all. In fact, he's led around by somebody else and, in the end, it's Christine who has to save him.

From very early on, when the ballerinas are frightened by a glimpse of the Phantom backstage, we occasionally see a rather strange-looking, darkly dressed man (Arthur Edmund Carewe), with a cape and fez, wandering about the Opera House. Though we know, despite what the ballerinas and stagehands think, he's not the Phantom, we still continually see him milling around. Raoul later bumps into him amid the chaos that follows the chandelier dropping and then notices how he watches him as he makes for Christine's dressing room. Later, during the costume ball, the man helps Christine and Raoul when he points them to an alternative exit, allowing them to avoid the Phantom, who's lurking downstairs. Following that, there's a scene where the man puts two and two together about the Phantom's true identity. When he finally introduces himself to Raoul as he tries to find a way to the Phantom's lair to save Christine, we already have a pretty good idea who he is and it's now confirmed. Turns out, he's Inspector Ledoux, who's been investigating the rumors of the Phantom and, besides his identity, has discovered his hiding place within the cellars and also knows of the traps he has down there. He guides Raoul through the cellars, urging him to keep his hand up to avoid being strangled, but is unable to prevent them from falling into one of the deathtraps and, like Raoul, is only saved by Christine's bargain with the Phantom.

The moment you see Florine Papillon (Snitz Edwards), a twittery stagehand who's spooked by the creepy backstage area, you know he's going to provide some comic relief. Shuddering when he hears a black cat roaming around, he's then surrounded and nearly rendered deaf by the ballerinas after they're frightened by a glimpse of the Phantom. He becomes all the more spooked when they talk about their encounter, attempting to slip away when they go to speak with another

stagehand who claims to have seen the Phantom's face. Unfortunately for Florine, they make him come with them, and he gets all the more spooked as the man, Joseph Buquet (Bernard Siegel), describes the Phantom's face. He does so in great detail: "His eyes are ghastly beads in which there is no light - like holes in a grinning skull! His face is like leprous parchment, yellow skin strung tight over protruding bones! His nose - there is no

nose!" Florine implores him to stop, saying ghosts don't like to be talked about, but Joseph then takes them to where he saw the Phantom. Florine spots his shadow nearby and runs off screaming, along with the ballerinas. In the chaos, he pops up through a trapdoor, much to the consternation of Joseph's brother, Simon (Gibson Gowland), the scene shifter. Simon chases Florine off, kicking at him, only to fall through the trapdoor himself. Florine laughs heartily at this, until Simon jumps back through, chokes him, and throws him aside. Speaking of Simon, he doesn't have much to do until Joseph is found dead, murdered by the Phantom. Declaring revenge. he leads the mob during climax.

Raoul's brother, Comte Philippe de Chagny, was played by John St. Polis in the original 1925 version, but when the film was reissued with sound in 1929, Edward Martindel played the role; however, the Eastman House print uses the footage with St. Polis, whereas Martindel's footage is likely lost with the rest of the newly shot material for the sound version. Regardless, Philippe, though not given much of anything to do, does care for his brother, showing concern when he hears rumors

that Christine favors a "mysterious admirer" over him. When Raoul disappears amid the chaos during the third act, Philippe searches for him backstage and heads down into the cellar. He finds his way to the Phantom's lair, where he's drowned by him in an underground lake. Far more interesting is how the role of Carlotta is handled between versions. In the 1925 version, she's played by Virginia Pearson, angrily showing the managers the letter from the

Phantom, warning her to let Christine play the role of Marguerite in Faust. Though outraged, she does acquiesce. But when she receives a second letter, she accuses Christine's friends of plotting against her and goes on purely out of spite. Her defiance leads to the death of a lot of innocent people when the Phantom drops the chandelier onto the audience. Unlike John St. Polis, Pearson did appear in the sound version... but as Carlotta's mother, now insisting that no phantom will prevent her daughter from performing, while new footage was shot with Mary Fabian playing Carlotta during the opera performance. This is what you see in the Eastman House print, with new intertitles in Pearson's scenes identifying her as Carlotta's mother.

Given the enormous success of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Universal decided to make Phantom another lavish production, and that's clear from the sets of the Paris Opera House. Initially, Carl Laemmle planned for it to be shot in Paris, but upon realizing they would have to close the opera, he instead opted for its interiors to be recreated at the studio. The enormous foyer, which you see as soon as the movie opens, is absolutely breathtaking, as is the enormous auditorium, which

was constructed with steel girders and concrete. The enormous chandelier that hangs from the ceiling is especially noteworthy, given how the Phantom puts it to deadly use, and the stage also provides an enormous sense of scale when you see the ballets and performances of Faust (they're much more elaborate in the Eastman House print). The management offices and dressing rooms are, suitably, the most normal, if still very posh, sets but, even so, the Phantom has a way of entering the

rooms through secret doors and compartments, giving a feeling that, once inside the Opera House, you can't escape him, no matter where you are. Other noteworthy sets of this grand scale include a lovely garden near the Opera House, seen only in the 1925 version; Raoul's large but seemingly barren home, which you see when he receives the note from Christine, asking him to meet her at the costume ball; the office of M. Faure, whom Inspector Ledoux speaks with regarding the Phantom's true identity; and the streets of Paris, which feature heavily during the climactic chase, where you can see the still standing sets of Notre Dame, as well as the banks of the River Seine, where the Phantom meets his end.

The more creepy, atmospheric settings are the Opera House's backstage area and cellars leading down to the Phantom's lair. These sets were based on the sketches of Ben Carre, a French art director who was one of the few people familiar with how those parts of the Opera House actually looked (if you watch any documentaries on the film, you'll see that the art directors recreated his drawings almost exactly). The backstage area is where you get that feeling of German Expressionism that's 

prevalent in these classic horror films, with lots of shadows and darkness, mixed together with creepy corridors, large props, statues, and pieces of the opera's scenery, such as a large prop meant to represent a demonic face with an open mouth. Farther down below are the dark, gloomy cellars, where the Phantom takes Christine down, coming upon a dark, underground lake. He takes her across it via a gondola to his lair, a large, stone chamber which contains, among other things, his pipe organ, the shrouded room housing the coffin he sleeps in,

and even a luxurious, normal bedroom he has prepared for Christine, with the bed itself seemingly made out of another gondola. However, the Phantom also has the cellars and catacombs booby-trapped, with a lever in his chamber that moves up and down when an intruder is about (I have no idea how that actually works, given the period). As Ledoux and Raoul search the cellars for Christine during the third act, they blunder into a room of mirrors which the Phantom can turn into an enormous oven to cook someone alive. Underneath that, they find a chamber filled with gunpowder which, if a certain lever is turned, can blow the entire Opera House to smithereens, while another lever drains the lake and floods the chamber.

As long as we're talking about the final act, there's a moment here that has always confounded me: early on, when Ledoux and Raoul are searching the cellars, a guy with a lantern comes out of the dark and intones, "I am a messenger from the shadows--turn back ere ye perish!", before going on his way. Um, who the hell is this guy? I used to assume he's the guy with the lantern in the opening, which I'll go into later, but upon closer inspection, I don't think so. Was the Phantom keeping him prisoner down there? Did he get lost down and become delirious? Various sources list this guy as "rat-catcher," and Wikipedia and Aveleyman credit him to an actor named William Tracy. However, according to both Aveleyman and IMDB, Tracy was born in 1917, which would have made him around seven years old when this was filmed! That is most definitely not a seven-year old in that scene (unless my eyes really don't work), and IMDB doesn't list the movie in Tracy's filmography, meaning those other sites either messed up completely or the rat-catcher is played by another person with that name. I must admit, however, that stuff like this makes reviewing silent movies really entertaining, as there are just as many, if not more, mysteries about their productions as there are to be found within the movies themselves.

When he wasn't playing referee for Rupert Julian and Lon Chaney, cinematographer Charles Van Enger did a really good job in making the film bright and glamorous in scenes set in the Opera House foyer, auditorium, management offices, and dressing rooms, and then dark, creepy, and Expressionistic in the backstage area and the cellars. The glimpses of the Phantom's shadowy silhouette during the first act, the dark, shadowy photography of the dungeon-like cellars, with their

long stairways, tunnels, and corridors, and other moments, such as when Florine sees the shadow of Joseph Buquet's hanging body, are positively steeped in German Expressionism. In addition, the film was quite technically innovative in many regards, particularly during the costume ball sequence, which was shot in Process 2 Technicolor (if you watch a purely black and white version of the film that has this sequence in color, instead of one with color tints, your eyes might not be quite

ready for the sudden change to fairly vibrant color and then back to black and white). The quality of the color varies on the print you watch, sometimes looking a bit faded and other times looking quite rich, comparable to the whole two-strip Technicolor films from the 30's, but it's still interesting and memorable to see, especially given how it was thought lost for a long time. Also, in addition to more Technicolor for the scene immediately following it, some versions retain an old-fashioned painting process used to make the 

Phantom's cape and costume appear bright red in the scene on the Opera House's rooftop. I recommend you try to find such a version if you decide to watch the film, as the red looks gorgeous superimposed with the scene's blue tinting. And while the movie's intertitles are usually done in the traditional white text over a black screen, when the Phantom declares that Carlotta is, "Singing to bring down the chandelier!", before he drops it, the dialogue appears over an image of his shadow. 

Of the film's big setpieces, one that has become a very famous part of the entire Phantom of the Opera story is when the Phantom drops the chandelier on the audience. When scored correctly, the build-up to it, with the lights going on and off during Carlotta's performance and the chandelier itself shaking following the Phantom's exclamation, is very effective, culminating in it crashing down and either trapping or crushing a number of people to death, while everyone else

panics and flees out of the auditorium, as the other actors and stagehands try to help. Another moment I like which no one talks about is when, during Christine's final performance, the Phantom yanks the conductor down, and then pops up in front of Christine. She screams, the lights go out for a few moments, and when they come back up, she's gone. But, I must confess that the third act kind of drags for me. I'm fine with the sequence of Raoul and Ledoux searching for the Phantom's lair, but things

really get bogged down with the Phantom killing Philippe when he comes searching for Raoul, Raoul and Ledoux getting trapped in the mirror room furnace and Christine begging for their lives, the Phantom forcing Christine to choose between being his bride or blowing them all up, and their nearly being drowned when she turns the one lever. Also, Simon Buquet organizing a lynch mob to storm the Phantom's lair, which he says he's found the way into, comes out of nowhere, as we never see him find it (that said, though, this could be the

first time we have the classic trope of the torch-wielding mob in a Universal horror movie). It kind of hurts the effectiveness of the carriage chase for me, although I do like the final moments between the Phantom and the mob. The 1925 version has a brief epilogue with Christine and Raoul on a honeymoon but I prefer for the movie to end with the last shot being the bubbles on the water's surface after the Phantom has been thrown into the River Seine.

Up to this point, I've been referring to the more common Eastman House version, but now, I'd like to talk about the actual film that was seen by audiences in 1925. This version, often called the "general release" print, is compiled from scratchy, 16mm prints Universal released in the 1930's for the consumer market. It's not 100% complete, but John Hampton, the film preservationist behind its construction, used every piece of these reels that he could find. I've already noted some of the differences between this and the more widely available version, but there are many others, such as different dialogue, many more expository intertitle cards, as well as cards introducing the

characters and their actor, slightly different camera angles in scenes that exist in both versions, different takes for the same scenes (in the unmasking scene, for instance, the Phantom's reaction in the general release version is one of instant rage, rather than the initial shock he has in the Eastman House print), a different chronology of events, and a number of scenes that aren't present in the Eastman House version, leading to a longer running time of around 106 minutes, as opposed to the other version's 91 minutes. As I said in the introduction, I didn't know of this until I already started the original draft of this review back in 2012, and even though I did find a stream of the 1925 version online, I was too overwhelmed,

not to mention lazy, to really watch it and talk about the differences between it and the Eastman House print. Ever since I bought Kino Lorber's two-disc Blu-Ray set in 2018 (that's the home media release I strongly urge everyone to go for, as it has both versions, as well as audio excerpts from the lost sound reissue), I've felt the need to remedy that mistake. That time is now. I'm not going to talk about every single little difference, but rather, I'll mention the major ones, such as the chronology of events and the scenes that aren't in the more common version.

After the opening credits, there's an intertitle laying out how, beneath the Paris Opera House are the cellars that were originally used as torture chambers and dungeons, only for another to dismiss it, asking, "But who thinks of cellars-dismal haunts of creeping things-when the Paris Opera stages a ballet?" Both Raoul and Philippe are introduced much earlier, in the opening scene at the opera, as they speak with other theatergoers before being shown to their box. Shortly afterward, following an intertitle telling us how she's become an understudy to Carlotta thanks to the tuition of a mysterious, unseen mentor, Christine is also introduced much earlier when Raoul comes to visit

her in her dressing room. Here, he asks when they can be married, but she says she can't leave the opera just yet. Following this, we get the scene where the new management takes over and are warned of the Phantom. Next, Simon and Joseph Buquet are introduced together, as they talk backstage, and then, we get Florine Papillon's introduction and the ballerinas being spooked when they see the Phantom's shadow. In the midst of this, we get the scene where Carlotta storms into the management office, shows them the note from the Phantom, and makes her exasperation clear. Then, we get the moment where Joseph tells Florine and the ballerinas about the Phantom, but when he goes to show them where he saw him, we cut back to

Christine's dressing room, where the Phantom speaks with her for the first time. He tells her that she will sing as the lead in Faust on Wednesday night, and also tells her to think only of her career and of him. We then get the rest of the sequence with Florine and the ballerinas, and then, there's a scene between Christine and Raoul in a garden near the Opera House. Here, she tells him that he must forget about her, describing the Phantom as the "Spirit of Music," and becomes angry when Raoul suggests it's someone pulling a joke on her.

Next, while Christine does take Carlotta's place in the opera (which looks quite different here), and Raoul and Philippe watch from their box, we now have the scene where the managers ask about the attendant in Box Five and get a glimpse of the Phantom inside. With her performance a success, Christine takes a bow, and Raoul, again, goes to her in her dressing room, only for her to act as though she doesn't know him (much of what's seen during this moment in the Eastman House print was already used in the first scene in the dressing room here). Confounded by this, Raoul is then forced to leave. However, he waits around until they're gone and is about to go back in, only to hear

the Phantom's voice, as well as Christine talking to him. After the Phantom tells her, "Soon, Christine, this spirit will take form and will demand your love!", Raoul ducks out of sight when Christine leaves the dressing room. He then goes inside and tries to find the voice's source, but to no avail. After this is when Simon and the other stagehands find Joseph's body and Simon declares vengeance. Next comes the Phantom's second note to Carlotta and her utter defiance, as well as his note to the managers, warning them of what will happen if they defy him. A major difference between versions is how, right after this, we have a scene at the police station where Inspector Ledoux tells M. Faure, Prefect of Police, of the Phantom's threat,

adding that he must keep his own identity a secret, the intertitle of which randomly comes over an image of the Phantom's shadow on the wall. This completely destroys the mystery of who Ledoux is, as we now know he has something to do with the police. Save for footage of Virginia Pearson performing as Carlotta onstage and reacting to the flashing lights, an intertitle telling us how the Phantom's voice filled the auditorium, a shot of Ledoux arriving on the scene amid the chaos of the chandelier falling, and, when Christine realizes her master is the Phantom, an intertitle with the words, "THE PHANTOM! THE PHANTOM!" slowly approaching the screen, things play out virtually the same for a while. Also, when Christine faints in his lair, we see the Phantom put her to bed, as opposed to it simply cutting to black.

Before we go back to Christine for the unmasking scene, there's a moment where a furious Raoul storms into Faure's office, demanding to know why the police aren't doing anything to find Christine and declares that he'll do it himself before stomping back out. The unmasking scene plays out unchanged, as does the costume ball scene, albeit without the Technicolor. There's a moment where, after the Phantom, dressed as the Red Death, angrily chastises everyone for the fun they're having, Raoul recognizes his voice as the one he heard in Christine's dressing room. And when he follows Raoul and Christine, there's a suspenseful moment where they take cover on the landing of a

staircase, as he roams around down below, searching for them. Though Raoul is ready to go down there and confront him, Christine stops him, and they head up to the Opera House's roof. This moment is in the other version, but the camera angle and Christine's warning about what the Phantom will do to them makes it more effective. The rest of the scene has no major differences. As the third act begins, we see more of the performance of Faust and a moment where Raoul sees Christine off as she heads onstage. From here on out, save for the rearranged scene where Joseph's body is discovered, the movie plays out almost exactly as it does in the Eastman House

version, save for the one last scene of Christine and Raoul on their honeymoon in Viroflay. Overall, the 1925 version does a better job of fleshing the story and characters out, and it does wonders for Christine, making her come off as more torn about having to choose between her fiance and her master. We also get much more from Raoul, such as more context of his feelings over what's going on with Christine. We see him react to it with a mix of confusion and derision, as well as frustration and despondency when she suddenly acts like she doesn't know him. Plus, we see that he's actually looking for her, rather than just standing around doing nothing, as appears to be the case in the other version. And as for the Phantom, it makes

sense that he would be watching Christine's performance from Box Five, rather than just a ballet performance, as in the Eastman version. But, at the same time, there are scenes that are superfluous, like the extended glimpses of the opera and ballets, and particularly the early one with Ledoux. The cross-cutting between the scene with Florine and the ballerinas and other scenes feels really choppy, and the longer running time tends to exacerbate that feeling of the third act dragging (it's still never revealed how Simon learned where the Phantom's lair is). And like I said, it's better to end the movie after the Phantom has been thrown into the river.

In 1929, to cash in on the advent of "talkies," The Phantom of the Opera was re-released with synchronized sound, music, and dialogue tracks. This version also featured new sound material shot by Ernst Laemmle, Carl Laemmle's nephew, and Frank McCormick, with new actors replacing those who were unavailable, although Mary Philbin and Norman Kerry did reprise their roles. The biggest absence was the Phantom himself, as Lon Chaney was now under contract to MGM, and because he was about to make his talking debut in their film, The Unholy 3, Universal was legally unable to dub his dialogue with another actor. To get around this, they invented a new character, an emissary for the Phantom, who spoke for him in some scenes,

such as those in Christine's dressing room, and simply reverted back to silence when the Phantom was speaking onscreen, albeit still with music and sound effects. The reissue proved to be another financial success for the studio but, save for the reel that features Mary Fabian as Carlotta, and the soundtrack discs, it was destroyed in a fire in 1948. The soundtrack is interesting to listen to as a supplementary feature, although the speaking performances are pretty bad (it's been said that their lackluster vocals led to the end of Philbin and Kerry's careers) and the music score by Joseph Cherniavsky is overdone and corny.

This now brings us back around to the Eastman House print, so called because it was developed at the George Eastman House, a film museum and archive in Rochester, New York, in the 1950's. It's struck from an alternate negative from a second camera that was right next to the main camera during the original shoot and was meant for foreign markets. Much of the silent footage that was retained in the 1929 reissue came from this negative, and the Eastman House print uses much of it, as well as the existing material that was shot specifically for the sound version. To this day, no one is sure what the original purpose of this print was. Some suggest it was originally an international sound version that's now lost its sound elements, while others suggest it was meant as an alternate silent version for theaters at the time that weren't yet equipped for sound. Despite its hodgepodge nature, because it comes from a 35mm source, with much better picture quality than the 1925 reconstruction, this is the version that home video publishers went for and thus, it became the one most modern audiences have seen. To this day, if you buy the film on DVD or Blu-Ray, you can almost bet on it being the Eastman House print.

One of the biggest mysteries surrounding both versions is a strange prologue where a man with a lantern is seen walking through the dark cellars beneath the Paris Opera House. He appears to speak directly to the camera but, obviously, there's no sound, nor are there any intertitles for whatever he's saying. In the 1925 version, it comes in-between the two expository title cards that follow the credits and lasts only for a few seconds, so it's not that distracting. But in the Eastman House print, it goes on for over a full minute, as the man

walks in, says something, hides when the Phantom's shadow comes through, then comes back out, speaks some more, and walks off, as the Phantom's shadow comes back through. Then, the movie finally begins, and you're likely to forget about it, but it's a baffling way to start things off. When I first watched it, I was so confused, with no idea of what was going on or what this had to do with anything. And nobody else appears to, either. It was initially believed to have been shot for the 1929 sound version, meant as a creepy introduction

for new audiences, and that the sound has simply been lost, but then, why does it appear in the 1925 reconstruction, with a close-up of the man that's not in the other version, no less? Even stranger is that it runs at 24 frames per second, the normal speed of sound film and the same speed as the still existing footage from the sound version, meaning it can't have been shot in 1925. That suggests that John Hampton somehow spliced this into the 1925 reconstruction by accident, though I have no clue how he could've gotten a hold of it since, logically, it shouldn't have been on those 16mm reels to begin with. While I have seen streams of the Eastman House print that remove it altogether

(which they should've begun doing in general and just put in on DVD and Blu-Ray as an unusual extra feature), some home media releases have given the man a voice, including a VHS tape from Video Treasures that had Christopher freaking Lee doing it, as well as giving an introduction from the actual cellars of the Paris Opera House! Now that's just badass. (That introduction is on YouTube and I suggest you check it out, as it is just as awesome as it sounds.) But that still doesn't explain where this prologue came from, who the man with the lantern is supposed to be in the context of the movie, or what he's saying. There's a good chance we may never know. 

Most public domain copies of the film, including the VHS I used to have, are scored with classical pieces of music, in particular Franz Schubert's Unfinished Symphony in B Minor, which you hear as soon as the film begins and is heard throughout. It's a very appropriate piece, as it ranges from very dark and mysterious to suspenseful and even downright beautiful in some spots (what's more, it was used in the actual soundtracks of some other early Universal horror films). They also made use of some of Mozart's work, such as his 4th and 40 symphonies. More recent, official releases of the film have had their own scores produced for the film, including Kino Lorber, who came up with a pretty good, effective score, although it doesn't stick with me nearly as much as the music from that VHS. But probably the craziest one I've ever heard is the Video Treasures release featuring Christopher Lee, which had music by Rick Wakeman!

While The Phantom of the Opera isn't one of my absolute favorites of the classic Universal horror movies, there's no denying its legendary status and it is an interesting film to check out from time to time. Lon Chaney's portrayal and realization of the Phantom is just incredible, some of the supporting cast are also memorable, the production values are excellent, with plenty of great sets and art direction, it makes good use of German Expressionism-style atmosphere and imagery, and there are some truly spectacular setpieces and unforgettable scenes. Unfortunately, Mary Philbin and Norman Kerry don't fare as well and by the time you get to the third act, it does start to drag a bit in spots. And while it's fascinating for somebody like me, who enjoys doing research, I realize that others may be confused and frustrated with the movie's confusing release history and the unanswered questions regarding the two available versions. I hope I've, at least, made things a little clearer, and James Rolfe once did a really good video about the situation that I recommend as well. In the end, both versions are worth watching, especially for classic film buffs, but if you're a fan of Universal Horror, The Phantom of the Opera is essential viewing, pure and simple.