Silver Screen

It disappears into the shadows like a ghost. It transports you, changes you, discovers you, yet never stays. We keep it in our memories until the memories become staged. False images turn into reality. Emotion controls our sight. Our senses trick us into seeing something that isn’t there. A phantom. Everything else falls away when the curtain falls.  

Theatre is ephemeral. Fleeting. In the paraphrased words of Shakespeare, we strut and fret our hour upon the stage then are heard no more. This intangibility has haunted me throughout my life in Theatre. My first acting role on my high school stage – the Artful Dodger in Oliver! – is remembered in only one backstage photo. An archival video recording having never been made.

The Artful Dodger with his loving mother.

My first acting role at Grand Valley State University – Eddie in The Rocky Horror Show – survives through many photos, on and off stage, but a technical error causes the archival video recording to exist only in a blurry ten-minute snippet. 

Eddie onstage.
Eddie getting gooey backstage with Bree Shea and Brie Roper.
Eddie backstage with Columbia (Anna Walters-Noroyan).
The blurry snippet.

Theatre is not meant to live in a tangible world, yet ever since the advent of photography, we continually chase that small chance of immortality. And at every turn, history conspires to wipe that chance from existence.

Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera is inspired by the 1925 silent film and its star, Lon Chaney Sr. – Hollywood’s first Phantom. But Lon Chaney was not the world’s first Phantom to haunt the silver screen. In 1916, the first screen adaptation of the story, entitled Das Phantom der Oper was filmed in Germany. Besides Hollywood’s pervasive staying power, the reason this German adaptation has not stood the test of time is because no surviving prints of the film exist. The film lives only in a few newspaper reviews, advertisements, and a single shadowy frame from the movie.

Advertisement for “Das Phantom der Oper” featured in the German film journal, Lichtbild-Bühne

Even the 1925 film suffers the loss of a lost film. The ending of the movie originally stays true to the end of the book, with the Phantom releasing Christine and Raoul after a fateful kiss from Christine. The Phantom dies playing his requiem mass, finding redemption in the end.

But the studio felt that it robbed the audience of an exciting ending. So, they scrapped the original ending and filmed a chase scene where an angry mob gets their revenge on the Opera Ghost.

Mob vengeance.

The scrapped ending exists now only in still frames, having been lost to history.

A requiem mass for the tragic and lost death of the Phantom.

This erasure of history as well as my own experience with Theatre’s elusive nature, drives me to make sure the original production of Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera is captured on film.

Chris Kotcher, a founding member of The University Wits Theatrical Company and GVSU Film and Video graduate, along with Will Mosqueda, arrive at Dog Story Theater on Saturday, January 23rd, 2016 to set up three cameras. A static wide shot, center, and two close-up cameras to the left and right. The lights dim. The audience hushes. And the cameras roll.

On Saturday, July 16th, 2016, members of the cast of Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera and invited friends gather at Dog Story Theater to watch the fruits of Chris’s labor. Many can’t make it, but all of the characters that breathed life on January 23rd, 2016 return to strut and fret their hour upon the stage once more. Theatre might not live in the tangible world, but it can sometimes be preserved in the tangible world.

It is because of this video that we are able to capture Mary Howing’s accidental fall during the Masquerade scene. A moment saved by her refusal to break character while calling for “More wine!”

More wine!”

It preserves all of the work that Scott Baisden and Anne Cope do on the Phantom’s special make-up design. Due to a misguided attempt to keep the make-up a secret, I neglect to take any production photos for posterity.

Erik’s grotesque visage.

It records the infamous “Penguin Joke” not written into the script, but improvised by actors J.J. Lindke and Michael Pollock.

“You look like a penguin!”

It conceals Mark Moran’s near-disastrous line flub at the end of the show, thanks to Chris seamlessly editing it out.

The power of editing.

After our viewing party, we walk to the Cottage Bar to celebrate the video. The recording airs on GRTV in August. We discuss sending it to festivals, though nothing comes of it. Chris uploads the video to YouTube, cementing its existence in the internet ether.

The silver screen awaiting its ghosts.
The Cottage Bar celebration.

The excitement of seeing the video posted and shared online eventually dissipates. The University Wits moves on to its next production and the Phantom absconds back to his catacombs. Until, one day, curiosity begs me to look at it.

The video is, by no means, a viral sensation. But somehow it keeps gathering views. As of this writing, it has 51K views. The views alone are enough to inspire me to keep working on the play, but really, it’s the comment section that proves to be its saving grace.

In a world where comment sections have become synonymous with hate speech, bullying, and expletives, somehow the comment section of the Phantom video becomes an ego boost whenever doubt begins leaking into my rewrites. Not all of the comments are complimentary. And to be fair, the original production is not without its flaws. But the bright spots shine through. 

Chasing away the ephemeral ghost into the silver screen inspires me to never let that ghost disappear into the shadows. The comments stand in a tangible world full of love for the story, a sense of humor for its flaws, and a celebration of the cast.

I added my own comment to the comment section and it bears repeating here.

To the YouTube Phantom Fans (the “Phans,” as it were), I want to thank you all for your support, your humor, and your candor. 

So… 

“Hold my beer.”

Stare lovingly into Erik’s “cute eyes.”

Gaze at the “sweetest and dreamiest Raoul you’ve ever seen.”

Marvel at Christine with the “Eliza Hamilton personality.”

Balk at the “kooky” Madame Giry.

Laugh with Gaston “Mr. Feeny” Leroux. 

Celebrate the inclusion of the daroga (I still don’t understand why this hasn’t been done more).

“Scare the crap” out of yourself with “an accurate depiction of the unmasking scene.”

And scream, rant, love and hate every twist I threw at you!

Regards,

Kyle Walker

  • Production stills by Chris Kotcher
  • Copies of Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera can be purchased HERE.

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