Horror movies are a staple at this time of year, with the nights growing longer and Halloween just in the rearview mirror. This year in particular, though, marks fifty years since the release of a cult curiosity you may never have heard of – Phantom of the Paradise. It was a commercial flop more or less everywhere except the Canadian city of Winnipeg, Manitoba (which actually hosted a couple screenings to celebrate the anniversary). However, the film has some notable fans, including the legendary filmmaker Guillermo Del Toro, who has a collection of figurines of the main character, and the iconic French duo Daft Punk, who would go on to collaborate with Phantom’s composer, Paul Williams. Fifty years after its premiere, let’s see if we can discover what Del Toro and Daft Punk saw in this oft-forgotten but nevertheless fascinating piece of film history.
It’s a horror movie. It’s arguably a horror-comedy. It’s also a horror rock musical. It’s Phantom of The Paradise, and the plot is only the beginning.
Trying to summarize Phantom of the Paradise’s plot is no simple task. As the name implies, it’s a Phantom of the Opera adaptation–it actually predates Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical–but it also takes cues and symbols from other stories, including Faust and The Picture of Dorian Gray. It follows Winslow Leach (William Finley), an awkward but incredibly passionate composer who wants nothing more than to have his epic cantata, Faust, be heard by the world. He auditions for the mysterious record exec Swan (Paul Williams), who expresses an interest in using Faust in the grand opening for his new venue, The Paradise. Swan makes off with Winslow’s sheet music, and months pass before Winslow realizes his music has been stolen. He’ll do anything to get it back, from crossdressing to homicide. Following a fall into The Paradise’s record press, Winslow becomes the titular Phantom, hellbent on avenging his work, which Swan has rendered unrecognizable by mangling it to fit into all the latest vapid trends.
As mentioned, the film’s score was composed by the legendary Paul Williams. Even if you haven’t heard his name, you’ve probably heard his work before. He’s worked with everyone from The Carpenters to The Muppets. That range is on full display in Phantom, which switches from in-your-face glam rock tracks (“Life At Last”) to slow, soulful ballads (“Old Souls”) with seamless ease. We also get to hear Winslow’s works before and after Swan’s rearrangements: the soulful, solo piano piece “Faust” becomes “Upholstery,” an ode to automobiles sung by Swan’s band The Beach Bums. The Bums are best described as–and I say this with the utmost affection–a bootleg version of The Beach Boys. Williams also plays none other than Swan himself in the film, and he absolutely hams it up. Every scene Swan and Winslow share is so incredibly charged, Swan smirking as he does what he wants and Winslow half-feral with loathing for it. The rest of the cast is stellar, too. As Phoenix –the Christine to Winslow’s Phantom– Jessica Harper, brings a certain freshness to the role with her smooth, alto range. Beef, played by Gerrit Graham, is a sparkling, superstitious rockstar who can’t help but steal the show. Also, Rod Serling– yes, that Rod Serling–narrates the opening scene!
Beyond the cast, you’ll probably recognize the name on the director’s chair: Brian de Palma, who after Phantom would go on to direct Carrie, Scarface, and more. Even this early on, you can see tricks he’d be using in these later works. For example, Phantom features the suspenseful, split-screen approach that would go on to be used in the climactic prom scene for Carrie. (Fun fact: Sissy Spacek worked as Phantom’s set dresser before playing Carrie’s titular lead!)
What arguably ties Phantom of the Paradise together, though, is its colorful, campy, 1970s time capsule aesthetic. The set design is incredible. The Paradise feels like a concert venue, especially in the film’s bombastic finale, with a giant unfolding lotus flower, a line of dancers, and a hysterical audience, all set against Texas’s stunning and historical Majestic Theatre. The Paradise doesn’t just shine as a concert hall, either, with many of its innards done in a bold, shocking crimson. Also of note is Winslow’s workspace, which is filmed in the legendary TONTO, one of the largest synthesizers ever built. Winslow’s Phantom is a fresh new take on the character, with his all-black leather suit, synthesized voice, and that sharp, distinctly bird-like mask. Pop culture urban legends cite it as an inspiration for Darth Vader and Berserk’s Femto. De Palma’s playfulness only enhances the aesthetics–a sped-up chase scene, the clever execution of a split screen, quirky transitions from one scene to the next. The Paradise also hosts a range of merchandise themed around Swan’s Death Records label–and, if you look closely, the label’s original name, Swan Song.
That’s actually a fascinating story that could take up an article all on its own–after shooting but before release, Led Zeppelin’s manager Peter Grant opened a record label of the same name, and was able to force the film to switch the name of its fictitious label to Death Records. Naturally, a change this late in production was a huge ordeal, with various shots having to be hastily edited–and in such cases, 1970s technology only goes so far. Beef’s introduction contains perhaps the most egregious example. It’s ridiculous, but also, isn’t it kind of charming? Much of Phantom’s appeal lies in its camp factor, and the production troubles only enhance that.
Nothing in this movie is subtle. Not the clothes, not the music, not the literally Satanic record exec pulling the strings, nor his victim simultaneously writing about and getting pulled into a Faustian bargain, nor the actual, real-life record exec that created some hilariously hasty last-minute edits. But that’s the fun of it. When you watch Phantom of The Paradise, you’re getting catchy, colorful, high-concept high camp, packed with passion from start to finish, refusing to be bogged down by anything or anyone. Fifty years later, I hope more people can see what Del Toro and Daft Punk did in this underrated cult classic, and that Phantom can finally earn its flowers as an adaptation that, even today, feels like a fresh twist on an old story.
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