A Phantom’s Face

A college sophomore sits down at his computer desk and begins writing. His fingers move across the keyboard in an awkward attempt at what he calls a screenplay, but what reads like a stage play, but is really neither. He is not attending college to become a writer. His insecurities stop him from ever pursuing writing beyond a hobby. Yet each word he writes fills his head with a pipedream.

Eventually, that college sophomore graduates and despite his doubts, becomes a burgeoning playwright. He is preparing to direct a play he has written. The product of that long-ago pipedream.

My pipedream.

Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera by Kyle Walker.

Next Stage Press is publishing my play in February 2024, but the journey to that first production tested that burgeoning playwright. I had written and directed three original plays by that point, but still, my insecurities called to me. Even now, I can still hear them, calling me back to November 2015, where it all began…

Promotional image for the audition announcement.

The play lends itself to a minimalistic set. Something I know can be done. Thanks to a continued relationship with my alma mater, I’m confident that the costuming needs will be met. Props, lighting, sound. I know their capabilities. But there’s something missing. Something I can’t see.

In the script, the character of Lon Chaney enters Act 1 with a fresh face. By Act 2, he must enter with the horrifyingly disfigured face of the Phantom. And at the end of the play, he must take it off on stage to become fresh-faced again.

The concept that ushers in this stagecraft feat of strength came from this historic photo of Lon Chaney, taken during early make-up tests for Universal Studios’ The Phantom of the Opera (1925).

Lon Chaney Sr. and his magical make-up box, circa 1924.

The play imagines a fateful meeting between Lon Chaney and Gaston Leroux, arranged so that Chaney can show off his make-up designs to the author. This means that, just like the production’s set, the Phantom’s transformation could be minimalistic. It wouldn’t have to look perfect. It could be suggestive. All of my insecurities creeping up, having their say.

Enter Scott Baisden, the talented actor cast in the dual roles of Lon Chaney/The Phantom.

Scott is also an accomplished artist who designed a production poster for my previous play. On top of accepting the role, Scott agrees to design the Phantom’s poster. Concept art starts rolling in immediately.

But something else starts rolling in as well. Something I didn’t expect. Scott is not only a talented actor and illustrator. He is also a talented make-up artist.

Scott’s first make-up tests recreate Lon Chaney’s horrifying monster, but in further discussions about the time constraints and requirements for the transformation, a new concept comes to light. When Gaston Leroux wrote the novel back in 1910, he partially based the Phantom’s ailment on a real-life disease called congenital porphyria. A disease that makes the sufferer sensitive to light, mutilates their nose, ears, and lips, and turns their skin a deathly yellow. The Phantom’s face would’ve been scarred and painful.

So, a new make-up design is conceived. Using a latex mold meant to look like a burn victim, Scott sculps, paints and alters it to give the Phantom a new face. The finished product looks scarred and painful. More importantly, it can be applied throughout Act 1 and easily taken off at the end of Act 2.

Anne Cope, Scott’s wife, joins the team to assist with the transformation and soon, what I couldn’t see, comes to life before my eyes.

Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera premiered at Dog Story Theater on January 22nd, 2016 to sold out shows. That original production taught me a lot of things. I learned those things from making mistakes. My own insecurities threatened to blind me, to bottle my ambitions. It forced me to question and doubt friends that had offered to help, something I regret to this day. But in the end, I learned to trust my production team, to trust more than the limits of my imagination. Theater has a way of revealing our deepest fears. The fear of failure. The fear of forgotten dreams. The fear of the impossible.

Finding the face of the Phantom unmasked the impossible.

  • Original poster art by Scott Baisden
  • Production stills by Chris Kotcher

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