It's difficult to assess how good or bad "The Phantom of the Opera" is because you first have to ask "Which Phantom?" The original 1925 release is rarely seen because it only exists as a scratchy 16mm print. More widely known is the 1929 re-release and the 1930 sound release with passages of dialog on a super-imposed sound track. The 35mm 1930 release is in excellent shape, but although aesthetically superior, it was cut down and re-edited to a point where the plot often makes no sense. Entire scenes necessary to the continuity of the story are missing or out of place, and new ballet sequences with Universal studio head Carl Laemmle's niece were added. It's a shame no one has reassembled the film as it was originally released, using the 16mm footage where necessary (color tinting added of course), with scenes restored and in their proper places. There's no question that director Rupert Julian was a hack, but he does not deserve to be judged by the incomplete re-release.
Art direction by Ben Carre, the Technicolor Bal Masque sequence (a survivor of several color sequences), together with Lon Chaney's makeup and performance, and his own uncredited direction, compensate for Julian's incompetence and for cuts that were made after previews. A scene in which we see the Phantom's shadow as he plays the violin for Christine Daae in a churchyard, and in which he rolls skulls to frighten Christine's lover, Raoul de Chagny, was cut because it was too intense for 1925 audiences. Chaney objected to the part of the scene requiring him to reveal his true face to Christine's lover. He correctly assumed the scene as written would undercut the effectiveness of the unmasking. I guess it never occurred to Julian that he could photograph the Phantom from behind to capture Raoul's reaction. Likewise, a scene of rats scurrying ahead of a rat catcher in the subterranean chambers beneath the opera house was deemed too horrifying, and leaves us to wonder "Whose face was that?" and "What were Raoul and the Persian grimacing at?"
Realistically, you have to accept any film as a product of its time and take it for what it can give you. But it's a mistake to believe silent acting was always florid and overstated. It is disappointing, therefore, to see the pantomime so necessary in the silent era carried to absurd heights in this film. Chaney always worried that without competent direction he was prone to over-act. And after the unmasking he becomes a stock villain out of melodrama. Before the unmasking, however, Chaney's hand gestures are graceful, natural, and appropriate for someone who has lived a vicarious, theatrical fantasy existence beneath the Paris opera house. Also Chaney created several masks for the Phantom, each subtly evoking a different emotion. The unmasking itself is a masterpiece of direction, editing, and acting, and can still deliver a shock eighty years after it was filmed. Chaney's gruesome makeup is justly famous, and follows the Phantom's description in the Leroux novel.
Finally, we must give credit to the preview audiences for demanding a change in the emotionally overwrought ending adapted from the novel, in which the Phantom dies of a broken heart after being kissed by Christine. Preview audiences craved retribution. The Phantom was a murderer and would have tortured Raoul and the Persian to death had not Christine agreed to surrender to him sexually. Another director was brought in to film a mob pursuing the monster through the streets of Paris with flaming torches. It was not the last Universal horror film that would end this way. But Chaney's acting elevates this particular ending. He reaches into his coat and temporarily halts the mob by threatening them with a bomb that doesn't exist. He gradually opens his hand to reveal nothing and laughs madly as the mob descends upon him. It is a brilliant piece of pantomime emblematic of his genius, to threaten the audience with nothing and, as Ray Bradbury has said, make them believe it's real.
Art direction by Ben Carre, the Technicolor Bal Masque sequence (a survivor of several color sequences), together with Lon Chaney's makeup and performance, and his own uncredited direction, compensate for Julian's incompetence and for cuts that were made after previews. A scene in which we see the Phantom's shadow as he plays the violin for Christine Daae in a churchyard, and in which he rolls skulls to frighten Christine's lover, Raoul de Chagny, was cut because it was too intense for 1925 audiences. Chaney objected to the part of the scene requiring him to reveal his true face to Christine's lover. He correctly assumed the scene as written would undercut the effectiveness of the unmasking. I guess it never occurred to Julian that he could photograph the Phantom from behind to capture Raoul's reaction. Likewise, a scene of rats scurrying ahead of a rat catcher in the subterranean chambers beneath the opera house was deemed too horrifying, and leaves us to wonder "Whose face was that?" and "What were Raoul and the Persian grimacing at?"
Realistically, you have to accept any film as a product of its time and take it for what it can give you. But it's a mistake to believe silent acting was always florid and overstated. It is disappointing, therefore, to see the pantomime so necessary in the silent era carried to absurd heights in this film. Chaney always worried that without competent direction he was prone to over-act. And after the unmasking he becomes a stock villain out of melodrama. Before the unmasking, however, Chaney's hand gestures are graceful, natural, and appropriate for someone who has lived a vicarious, theatrical fantasy existence beneath the Paris opera house. Also Chaney created several masks for the Phantom, each subtly evoking a different emotion. The unmasking itself is a masterpiece of direction, editing, and acting, and can still deliver a shock eighty years after it was filmed. Chaney's gruesome makeup is justly famous, and follows the Phantom's description in the Leroux novel.
Finally, we must give credit to the preview audiences for demanding a change in the emotionally overwrought ending adapted from the novel, in which the Phantom dies of a broken heart after being kissed by Christine. Preview audiences craved retribution. The Phantom was a murderer and would have tortured Raoul and the Persian to death had not Christine agreed to surrender to him sexually. Another director was brought in to film a mob pursuing the monster through the streets of Paris with flaming torches. It was not the last Universal horror film that would end this way. But Chaney's acting elevates this particular ending. He reaches into his coat and temporarily halts the mob by threatening them with a bomb that doesn't exist. He gradually opens his hand to reveal nothing and laughs madly as the mob descends upon him. It is a brilliant piece of pantomime emblematic of his genius, to threaten the audience with nothing and, as Ray Bradbury has said, make them believe it's real.