Brian De Palma has a cinematic vision and like it or not it’s on full display in Phantom of the Paradise. It’s garish and over-the-top, and too much is never enough so if that’s not what you’re looking for go watch some Ozu.
Not only is Phantom inspired by The Phantom of the Opera, but it brings in bits of the Faust legend (selling your soul for worldly success) and The Picture of Dorian Gray (there’s a portrait in the attic that looks like hell while Dorian stays fabulous), plus the shower scene from Hitchcock’s Psycho. And that’s not all. Far from it, in fact. To take one more, the stage set for the final musical number is taken from The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and the male singers’ whiteface makeup is inspired by Caligari’s somnabulist Cesare.
Put it all together, stir well, and what DePalma presents is a cautionary tale. Richard Leach (William Finley), who is not a leech but is leeched off, trusts one-named music mogul Swan (Paul Williams) to produce his magnum opus, a cantata based on that hoary old archetype the Faust legend. Swan wants it for the opening program of his rock palace, the Paradise (Dallas’ Majestic Theater), and Leach wants his one-named singer-muse Phoenix (Jessica Harper) to be the featured soloist. Swan being a person without scruples steals Leach’s music and Leach being a true artist without any sense doesn’t call his lawyer or file a protest with ASCAP or BMI to shut the production down. Plausibility is something in short supply here, as one Gothic horror follows the next, culminating in a spectacular and bloody climax that (once again with the homages) recalls Hitchcock’s Albert Hall scene in both versions of The Man Who Knew Too Much.
Phantom of the Paradise has its devotees, though to an outsider it doesn’t inspire that level of awe. The acting isn’t great, the production is cheesy, the satire of the music business doesn’t land, and music itself is mostly unimpressive. One viewing is enough to get a good idea of what the fuss was and is about.
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