I actually liked this version and I have noticed that all the other reviews were made by what is termed "weekend fans" that is to say, fans who ONLY like the awl version. Yes, I know. If awl cant get Erik's name, why should I get his? The truth is, the explicit nature of awl's work is only one form of theater. Now think of another: Sondheim, who is equally talented, but more often implicit and less commercial. It is very easy for a newcomer to musical theater (or one who frequents only major touring productions) to be humanly dazed coming out of the Webber/Hal Prince production and then expect the rest of the theater world to deliver similarly muscular musicals.
The million dollar question remains: Is theater a visceral roller coaster set in two acts or can it challenge an audience to think? If the latter, what is the appropriate size and presentation to evoke thought? Lawrence Rosen and Paul Schierhorn's Phantom of the Opera is limited in size, budget and, yes, talent. In fact, it seems to live in a time capsule: a small regional musical inspired by Victorian operettas with no sense that it exists under the shadow of a late-twentieth century pop giant. Having seen many Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, the moderate song/dialog/song structure feels common to its form. Instead of rejecting its technique, I found myself quieting my commercial sensibilities in order to appreciate its low-key interpretation. (Just like Christine, I, too, have been trained to hear only Webber's grandiloquent music.) But it made me think! Bruce Falstein's book to the score presents a striking philosophic debate absent in most Phantom interpretations: What is passion? Should it be driven underground, symbolically like a monster? And what is passion without liberty (a timeless French theme)? In a superficial world, there is little room for the passionate genius to express himself freely, to create angelic music. Will even the genius be driven underground, cursed to deformity by conformity? This Phantom, without gargantuan sets and heroic harmonies, made room for a few universal themes previously overlooked.
The romantic triangle between Christine, Erik and Raoul is open to multitudinous interpretations and I'm ready to watch them all. Webber's gilding of Gaston Leroux' novel (already pervasively Gothic) with baroque artifice is sensational, indeed. I love theatrical excess! But I wonder if its truthful. Lawrence Rosen and Paul Schierhorn's Phantom is financially restrained but a purer narrative and in the end it struck me that Christine's choice to follow the fashionable Raoul is an obvious choice, but is it a courageous one? For me, viewing this small musical was my choice, like staying at a bed and breakfast for a change instead of the Hilton. Now what's yours?
The million dollar question remains: Is theater a visceral roller coaster set in two acts or can it challenge an audience to think? If the latter, what is the appropriate size and presentation to evoke thought? Lawrence Rosen and Paul Schierhorn's Phantom of the Opera is limited in size, budget and, yes, talent. In fact, it seems to live in a time capsule: a small regional musical inspired by Victorian operettas with no sense that it exists under the shadow of a late-twentieth century pop giant. Having seen many Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, the moderate song/dialog/song structure feels common to its form. Instead of rejecting its technique, I found myself quieting my commercial sensibilities in order to appreciate its low-key interpretation. (Just like Christine, I, too, have been trained to hear only Webber's grandiloquent music.) But it made me think! Bruce Falstein's book to the score presents a striking philosophic debate absent in most Phantom interpretations: What is passion? Should it be driven underground, symbolically like a monster? And what is passion without liberty (a timeless French theme)? In a superficial world, there is little room for the passionate genius to express himself freely, to create angelic music. Will even the genius be driven underground, cursed to deformity by conformity? This Phantom, without gargantuan sets and heroic harmonies, made room for a few universal themes previously overlooked.
The romantic triangle between Christine, Erik and Raoul is open to multitudinous interpretations and I'm ready to watch them all. Webber's gilding of Gaston Leroux' novel (already pervasively Gothic) with baroque artifice is sensational, indeed. I love theatrical excess! But I wonder if its truthful. Lawrence Rosen and Paul Schierhorn's Phantom is financially restrained but a purer narrative and in the end it struck me that Christine's choice to follow the fashionable Raoul is an obvious choice, but is it a courageous one? For me, viewing this small musical was my choice, like staying at a bed and breakfast for a change instead of the Hilton. Now what's yours?