Only then can you belong to me

These lines resonated in my head as I walked out of the cinema yesterday. Yes I had finally seen the Phantom of the Opera (the Lloyd Webber & Schumacher version). And after quite a while I left the multiplex with the movie still doing rounds in my head. The last time that happened was Eastwood's Mystic River.

Now I know that there have been a zillion versions of this classic, but I never got around to seeing even one of them. Yes I remember listening to Webber's score for the first time in, when was it, I guess somewhere around 98. And it had quite an effect on me. And I only heard one piece of music from the broadway show (the one used in the movie for the song "the phantom of the opera is here...", don't knwo what its called). And it was always powerful in a haunting way. Have been humming it every now and then ever since.

But what caught me about the movie (apart from the brilliant sets, costumes, lighting, effects, mesmerizing back drops, and seemless filmmaking) was the human emotion involved. The biggest drawback of musicals is that they seem a bit out of reach (note I do not say far fetched, I don't consider them far fetched), and it's always difficult to relate to them. I mean how many of us can see ourselves sitting in our studies and singing to our friends "why can't a woman be more like a man". And "My fair lady" was the first musical I saw, see my dad's always been a fan of both the Hepburns, and yes it was love at first site for me as wel. I've never seen the current heroines (beautiful and talented as they are) illuminate the screen like Audrey Hepburn did, and let's not even begin to compare them to the Katherine Hepburn (holy grounds for me)!

OK, getting back to the point now. Yes, what I was saying was yesterday I actually felt part of the whole charade. I actually felt that I was standing there among the hundreds of extras. I could feel the irony of the masked ball sequence inside of me, and at the climax, I could feel the cool of the Paris undergrounds. And yes, at the end, I was a bit shook up, specially the monkey and ring sequence between Christine, the phantom, and ofcourse a monkey! And it wasn't at all funny.

It is amazing when at the end of it, a movie can make you feel sorry for a murdering, possessing, raving madman, who if born with a normal face could have been the high-light of his era, the greatest catch, the biggest shot. Even though the character of the patron, Raoul, is depcited as more of a dim wit (and somehow I feel that wasn't intentional), and perhaps the only actor that you fail to notice on screen. But yes, Emmy Rossum as Christine was just divine. Oh and the pleasent surprise was that she was a link from Mystic River (in which she leaves an impact in the 3 minutes she gets on screen), the last movie that came outside the theater with me, in my head.

I guess my excitment for the movie also has to do with the fact that I haven't seen the earlier versions, and there'd be many saying that it was terrible, and the best was the "so and so" version. But it was definately a worthy experience for me at a time of not so many worthy experiences, as a matter of fact worth another show as well. The movie can be seen just for its climax, the masked ball, and the snowy rooftop sequence with Paris in the back drop.

Gone now...