The cast joins hands to take their final curtain bows. Applause erupts. Shouts of “Author! Author!” ring out in the small black box theater. It is an old tradition to call the playwright out to take a bow, but the author in question does not heed the call.
Since he watches the performance from the audience, the cramped audience seating prevents a quick dash to the stage. And even if he could, he fails to understand that the call is for him. Perhaps he fails to believe that he deserves a bow. Perhaps he fails to understand the words shouted by his audience. But the true reason is that his mind is far too busy to answer the call.
The words he wrote, spoken into life by the actors’ voices, still float in the foggy, stage air. But before they have a chance to settle upon the boards of the theater floor, more words are being thought into being.
Words that will one day become the next draft of the play. Words that will go through multiple revisions and rewrites. Words that will be published by Next Stage Press in February 2024 as Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera.
Many of the words in the published version of the play never came to rest upon that black box theater. Many of them took years to find their way into being. But it all started there. And the journey of each change, each addition, each subtraction, is a story worth telling.
Offstage Character
In the original script, the play ends with Gaston’s promise to tell his wife the untold story of the Phantom of the Opera. This decision reveals Gaston’s fears, his doubts, his journey as a character. There is only one problem. His wife never appears in the original version. She is mentioned, but not even by name. The character-driven choice that Gaston must make finds its resolution in nothing but an unnamed, offstage character.
The first change I write in my head brings Gaston’s wife into the play. And provides her actual name – Jeanne. The real Gaston meets Jeanne Cayatte from Lorraine, France in 1902 – though in the unwritten lore of the play, I blur the date a little bit so that they don’t meet until after his “fateful” coverage of the First Russian Revolution in 1905.
*Don’t worry, no spoilers for those that are just being introduced to the play.*
Jeanne’s inclusion also creates a double casting opportunity. The action of the play comes from Gaston’s mind – the world of his memory bringing the stage to life. So, the actor playing Jeanne can become a character in the play. And what better character for the motherly Jeanne to become than the motherly Madame Giry.
Both characters have an innocent wit and humor with a knowing view of the world that others cannot see. Madame Giry sees the kind and gentle Opera Ghost and Jeanne sees the open and unburdened Gaston, but they cannot see the deeper, darker truth that lies under the surface. Something that both characters see by the end of the play and are changed by it.
The revision seems obvious in hindsight. Jeanne should’ve been a character from the first draft. Her absence is the victim of my ignorance, both in character-building and in research. While Gaston Leroux’s book is world-famous, the story of his life is harder to come by. There has never been an extensive biography written about him. An autobiography written in 1900 doesn’t see the light of day until 1997, and even then, I am unable to track it down.
It is not until my wife buys me the Penguin Classic edition of The Phantom of the Opera, translated by Mireille Ribiére, that some of the veils of history are pulled back. Ribiére writes a brief biography and chronology of Gaston Leroux’s life in the introduction to the book. This gives Jeanne her name, her story. It also unveils something else about Gaston I never knew.
On top of being a writer and investigative journalist, Gaston is also a screenwriter. In 1919, he helps create a small film company that produces serialized movies. And starring in many of these films is his daughter, Madeliene. A character that also never appears in the original play. A character I know I need to add.
Where’d You Go Bernadette?
The 2016 production opens with Gaston Leroux’s maid, Bernadette, rushing in to introduce Lon Chaney. She is a huge fan of the silent movie star and finds herself completely starstruck in his presence. It is a fictional character created for the play. I have no doubt that Gaston Leroux’s fame provided him with a maid, but no history that I researched ever gave her a name. The character disappears for most of the play, leaving her actor open to assume the role of Marie, Carlotta’s abused and put upon maid that eventually discovers her strength by standing up for herself.
I plan this double casting from the beginning. Gaston’s maid becomes Carlotta’s maid. There is a symmetry to this pairing, but something about it never sits well with me. A maid playing a maid. Not a very creative choice.
So, when I discover that Gaston’s daughter, Madeleine, is an actor in her own right, the solution reveals itself to me. Bernadette becomes Madeleine. Now, instead of a maid becoming a maid, an aspiring actor, unsure of her talents, becomes a pivotal character, unsure of her strength.
This also opens up more double casting opportunities. Madeleine could be double cast as Meg Giry, playing daughter to Jeanne’s double cast mother. Or she could play Sorelli or Carlotta, the star of Gaston’s movies becoming the prima ballerina or prima donna of the Opera House. She could even play Christine, the starstruck fan of Lon Chaney mesmerized by Lon Chaney’s Phantom. The symmetry this time has far reaching potential.
A Change of Scenery
The research I do when first putting pen to paper for the 2016 production leaves many gaps in my knowledge. The erasure of Gaston’s family is only one of them. But my research also traps me in certain historical facts. In 1924, when the play begins, Gaston Leroux and his family are historically living in Nice, France. Therefore, the bookended scenes of the play take place at their house in Nice. It is only later that I realize that the play could benefit from a little imaginative history.
So, in my revisions, all of the events of the play move to the Paris Opera House. Instead of the fateful meeting taking place at Gaston’s house, it now unfolds on the stage of the opera house. It is a simple change, but like the addition of Jeanne and Madeleine, it carries a symmetrical weight. If Lon Chaney did travel to France to meet with Gaston Leroux, what better place to meet than the stage that his character haunts?
This also returns a narrative element back to my original idea of this story. The attempted screenplay adaptation I write in college starts with Gaston visiting the Opera House during his research for the book. In fact, it starts with a conversation on the empty stage between three stagehands.
YOUNG MAN 1: What is he doing down there?
from the original screenplay adaptation
OLDER MAN: I don’t know. But he has been down there for quite a while.
YOUNG MAN 2: A while? He’s been down there all day!
YOUNG MAN 1: I heard he’s digging up the bodies of those torture chamber victims from the war.
YOUNG MAN: That’s not what I heard at all! I heard he’s trying to find… the Phantom!
So, my revisions return Gaston and the setting of the play back to the Opera House. Both literally and emotionally, Gaston is returning to the place that haunts him.
Opera Ghost
The last revision I want to talk about is one that I can’t entirely claim to be my own. It is a revision created by Elle Locksted and Scott Baisden, my Christine and Phantom. A revision that saves the show and nearly changes its title.
As detailed in my Empty Stage post a few weeks ago, one of the set design ideas that I bring into the first production is to fill the stage with mirrors. The idea is quickly abandoned but one solitary mirror is purchased for the production. At the end of the play when the Phantom removes his make-up to become Lon Chaney once again, a mirror is written into the scene.
The PERSIAN exits. The PHANTOM is alone. Finding hidden strength from somewhere – somewhere deep within – he stands up. He reveals a large mirror; clean, spotless, and shining in the darkness. Unlike any of the dark and murky mirrors that adorn the set, this mirror’s reflection is clear and truthful. The PHANTOM stares at his reflection; studying it, examining it, looking past it. As the lights begin to cross fade into the next scene, he begins removing his make-up…
from the 2016 production draft
The dark and murky mirrors no longer adorn the set, but this moment seems important enough to keep it in the show. We intend to build a frame for the full-length mirror and have it appear for this moment. But as with many things in theater, plans must go wrong before they go right.
Building the frame, making it mobile, all for one small moment of the show, keeps getting pushed down on the to-do list. We are in final rehearsals, racing toward opening night, when the decision is finally made to cut it altogether. The mirror is put to use backstage for the actors to check their costumes and make-up before entering. Until the Jefferson Avenue location of Dog Story Theater closes in 2020, I believe the mirror stays backstage.
It is an easy cut from the script, but it causes a prop-based problem. Lon Chaney’s make-up box is meant to enter along with the mirror. Now, we need to figure out how to get it onstage. Sure, we could make it a part of the simple set change to rearrange the acting blocks onstage, but this moment needs weight. I didn’t want a random member of the cast to just drop it off on their way to reset the stage. And that’s when Elle and Scott come to the rescue.
*YOU CAN WORRY NOW, BIG SPOILERS COMING FOR THOSE THAT ARE JUST BEING INTRODUCED TO THE PLAY*
In my adaptation, the “real story,” Gaston reveals that, unlike he wrote in the novel, Christine is killed by a stray bullet sent by Raoul and the Phantom, during a struggle between the would-be suitors. It is a tragedy that mirrors Marguerite’s death in Gounod’s Faust – the opera prominently featured in the book. It also mirrors the monsters within the Phantom and Raoul. A mirror that reflects the ghost that haunts them the rest of their lives.
And that ghost is the one that brings out Lon Chaney’s make-up box.
At first, it is a simple staging solution. Scott needs a prop and since Elle has made her final exit, she is free to bring it onstage. They come to me with the idea and we quickly stage it. But that simple staging becomes so much more. For it is not just an available actor coming to deliver a prop. It is Christine coming to tell the Phantom to take off his mask. Not the mask he wears, not the mask he hides behind, but the mask that reveals the true monster underneath.
While the mirror never makes it on stage, its reflection is still shown. Just as Christine tears off the Phantom’s mask earlier in the play, at the end, she returns to do the same. The reflection even mirrors the 1925 silent film, when Christine first meets the Phantom.
Unmasked Title
Christine’s reentrance, above all else, deafens the shouts of “Author!” during the final curtain bows. My mind is sent spinning, envisioning all the possible changes I can make. The loudest change amongst them is the title of the show. The play’s title has been a subject of discussion throughout the production. Some of the production team think that the title should differentiate itself from the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical so as to avoid any confusion. Some think that it’s too wordy of a title to begin with and should be shortened. I concede to these opinions, but fight for my original title. Length and confusion notwithstanding, I like the sound of it. I like the look of it.
But sitting there during the curtain bows, I keep replaying Christine’s restaged entrance at the end. And I realize that it is not just Christine coming to unmask the Phantom. It is her ghost. An opera ghost. Maybe the true title of the show should be Opera Ghost.
I agonize over this idea for the ensuing years as I work on the revisions. I type it on the title page of the document multiple times to see how it looks. And I delete it just as many times. In the end, when I submit my final publication draft to Next Stage Press, I leave the title unchanged.
Christine is the Opera Ghost of my play. She haunts the stage, passageways, and catacombs of the Paris Opera House. More importantly, she haunts Gaston Leroux. When he tells Lon Chaney that the ghost in the Paris Opera actually existed, he speaks the truth.
Christine is the true Phantom. His Phantom. The Phantom of the Opera. And so, the title remains.
- Original Production Photos/Stills by Chris Kotcher