More On My Phantom Fanfic

In this story, I’m pitting the "movie" Phantom and the "play" Phantom not quite against one another, but definitely butting heads. You’ll see. Anyway, I obviously need a distinction between the two. So the "play" Phantom will be called Erik, while the "movie" Phantom will be called Gerard, after the man who played him. I’m not calling the play Phantom "Michael," (after Michael Crawford,) because Michael Crawford is the one true Phantom, despite what any "Oh, my God, Gerard is SO HOT!!!" people might say. Therefore, he deserves the title of the Phantom’s actual name.

Oh, one last thing, it’ll help greatly if you’ve seen the movie to follow along with what all I say in here. In fact, if you want to play the movie while reading this, I’m sure you’ll find it quite entertaining.

Anyway, on with the show!

Deep down in the tunnels beneath the opera house, had anyone been there to listen, they would have heard the swish of cloaks, the groan of a chair long since convinced no one would occupy the seat again, and . . . a DVD player starting?

Yes, indeed, our resident Phantom has heard of a director making a movie about his famous stunts and captures at the Opera Populaire. He couldn’t help but be curious, because rumor had it that the very songs he’d so often sung on the stage were to be integrated into this silver screen production. He couldn’t help but wonder if it would do him justice.

He pushed Play on the remote for the DVD player — technology never ceased to astound him — and the movie began.

"An old movie effect . . ." he murmured as he saw the ancient Raoul being wheeled into the auction house. "Interesting . . . "

In fact, he had no complaints about the items auctioned off, nor how the bidding was done. Though he found it curious that Madame Giry should want the Persian monkey musical box. It was no surprise to him that the box was still in working order. He’d meant it to last a lifetime. And one could never guess how long one would live . . .

But then, Raoul’s voice began singing, more of a train of thought than something to be said aloud.

"A collector’s piece, indeed. Every detail, exactly as she said. Will you still play when all the rest of us are dead?"

Erik leaned forward in his chair, pausing the DVD. "What? Where are the rest of his lyrics?" He began singing, in perfect pitch, the rest of the lines that should have been there. ". . .exactly as she said. She often spoke of you, my friend. Your velvet lining and your figurine of lead. Will you still play . . .?"

Erik shook his head and sat back in his chair. “Well, it’s only one thing. Surely no more than that could have been changed.”

He took up the remote and pressed play again. The auctioneer once again impressed him with his acting, especially during his description of “the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera — a mystery never fully explained.” And though he would never thought this could happen, as Erik saw the chandelier pulled back up to its former height and glory and the theater restored to its original beauty, chills ran up and down his spine.

He watched the carriage with Andre and Firmin pull up in front of the majestic building and remembered watching that same scene from a different spot. High up on one of the roofs of the Opera Populaire.

“What???” he exclaimed as the break in the orchestra never came. He paused the DVD player again and stood up. Pointing at the TV, as if the director could hear him, he shouted, “How dare you add to my original score?! That music was crafted out of the genius of my mind, how dare you think you can add upon that kind of effort, talent, and finesse???”

Erik raved for a good ten minutes, refusing to play the movie any further, until finally, he sat down at his organ and played through the introduction the correct way, cutting off when the opera that Carlotta and the rest were rehearsing would start. Then, sufficiently calmed down, he went back to the movie . . .

. . . And almost turned it right back off. For Carlotta was singing.

Erik simply covered his ears and muttered, “At least they got her character correctly.”

He knew he couldn’t keep his ears blocked, however. He wanted to hear Christine. He wanted to see the spunky little Meg suggest his angel for Carlotta’s replacement.

In the middle of the Hannibal scene, right after the ladies’ part, the scene cut to an image of a horse drawn carriage. A man, long-ish hair and a wide smile on his face, got out and began walking with who Erik knew were Andre and Firmin. Who was that long-haired lad? It couldn’t possibly be . . .

Erik cringed when Piangi began “singing.” He was thankful when the former manager interrupted them.

“Wait.” This DVD was being tested in its pausing capabilities. “Junk business? Scrap metal, whatever they want to fancy it up with . . . Then why was the chandelier not taken by them after I . . . after this Phantom knocked it down after Christine and that wretched boy declare their–” Erik had to choke past this word– “love for one another? It makes no sense that they would keep it. Unless they believed the Phantom truly had cursed the entire theater and all it’s object.”

He finally continued and was not at all surprised to find that this long haired pussy-boy was indeed his hated nemesis, the Vicompte de Chagny, Raoul.

“Christine, he’s so handsome,” he heard Meg tell her friend. Erik spit on his floor. “Handsome isn’t everything, dear little dancer.”

Erik laughed out loud when the rehearsal resumed and Piangi was unable to climb onto the elephant, even with the attempted help of two other men. There was a classic stage presence about that bumble that had to be included. He was glad the director had had the sense to leave it in.