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Howdy! This is an essay I wrote a couple years ago for some local essay-writing competition. The theme was "Write about a book that taught you a lesson" so, I wrote about Gaston Lerox's Le Fantom de l'Opera. It's a amzing novel, and if you haven't read it, get your bum off that chair and high-tail it to the nearest Barnes and Noble! Right now! Well, I sent this in to the contast, where it won Second Prize.
-large trophy glows in background-
So...enjoy!
“There,” she said, snatching her cell phone away. “There’s something I think you might like to read, Sarah!” I rolled my eyes. My mom and I had different tastes in absolutely everything. Movies, music, clothes, books, you name it. I highly doubted I would find some book she had given me enjoyable.
Nevertheless, I picked it up and examined it. It was about two inches thick, had a tatty, navy blue cover, the pages were a particularly nasty shade of pale yellow, and there was no title to be found. Yeah, whatever. I would just love this book. I turned it over and over in my hands, marks visible in the collected dust where my fingers had been. My God, it looked like this book hadn’t been touched in years! I flipped it over to look at the spine, and in pale, peeling gold lettering it read ‘Le Fantome de L’opera.’ My eyes widened. It was one of those stupid foreign books! I would have to hire some French guy to translate it for me! As I flicked skeptically through the pages, I caught a quick glance at the copyright. I hastily turned the pages back, hardly daring to believe what I had seen. 1911! This book was published in 1911! It was practically ancient!! I wondered what kind of moron would waste their time writing this book, so I flipped to the back to look at the author’s name. Gaston Leroux. “That man was an idiot,” was my first thought. I snapped the book closed with distaste and tossed it on the dashboard. Not even God could make me read such a dismal book.
For the next few weeks, the book lay in my room, collecting dust. I was completely oblivious to it until the day before it was due. I lay on my bed, bored out of my mind, counting ceiling tiles. “164…165…166…167…168…16-” A dust coated, navy blue cover caught my eye. I hesitated for a moment, then thought, “Oh, what the hell?” I gently blew the layer of dust off the cover and began to read. I was hooked by the first sentence.
‘The Opera Ghost really existed.’ It said. ‘He was not, as long believed, a creature of the imaginations of the background painters, the superstition of the managers, or an absurdity of the impressionable brains of the young ladies in the ballet, their mistress, the box-keepers, or the cloak-room attendants. Yes, he existed in the flesh and blood, though he assumed all the outward characteristics of a real phantom. That is to say, of an Opera Ghost.’
That day, I stayed up from the middle of the afternoon until 3:00 a.m. the next morning with my nose buried deep within the musty, yellow pages of the aged novel. At 3:00 a.m., I put Le Famtome de L’opera down on my nightstand, tears brimming my eyes. The book I had begun to read earlier was just some stupid, boring old book. The one I put down was far from it. It was an Adventure. A Fantasy. A Romance novel. A Horror story. A Tragedy. Then I realized, not only was this book very enjoyable, it also held a very important, but very true message.
The main character in this story is Erik. The Phantom. The Opera Ghost. Erik is a tragic character. He was born with his face horrifically disfigured and grew up in a traveling freak show. Despite his appearance, Erik was incredibly intelligent. He was an expert composer, musician, architect, magician, designer, mathematician. He was a genius, extremely gifted in every area. However, nobody ever paid his ideas any attention. They saw him as a freak of nature and nothing else. Erik was eventually forced to live in solitude in the cellars of the Paris Opera House, The Opera Garnier. There, he dons the infamous white half-mask and becomes The Phantom. Later, he meets seven year old Christine Daae, a quiet ballet dancer who dreams of being an opera star.
Christine was orphaned little more than a month ago, and before her father died, he told her that when he went to heaven, he would send her an ‘Angel of Music’ to watch over and protect her. The Phantom pities the child and speaks to her from behind her dressing room mirror. The Phantom teaches her to sing, Christine believing he is her ‘Angel of Music’, sent from heaven by her father.
Through the years, The Phantom continues to give Christine private vocal lessons, and she becomes a beautiful young woman with a lovely soprano voice. One day, during rehearsals for an upcoming opera, the self absorbed, Prima Donna, Carlotta, refuses to perform that night. Meg, Christine’s friend and fellow dancer, suggests that Christine play the part. The managers, in desperation, grant her an audition. Christine performs that night, and everyone is amazed by her singing ability.
After the gala, Raoul de Changy, the handsome young viscount and wealthy patron of the opera house, comes to congratulate Christine on her stellar performance. The meeting becomes a reunion, as they realize that they used to play together as children. Raoul insists that he must retreive his hat and leaves, promising to return and escort her to dinner. As Christine waits for Raoul to return, The Phantom, who has witnessed the entire ordeal, scolds Christine for her foolishness. Christine begs forgiveness and timidly asks The Phantom to show himself. He appears in her dressing room mirror, and hypnotizes Christine to follow him to his dark world beneath the opera house.
When they reach The Phantom’s lair, The Phantom explains that he is a composer and has taught Christine so that she could sing his music. He then shows her a life-sized mannequin of herself in a wedding gown. Christine faints from shock. When she wakes up the next morning, Christine sneaks up behind The Phantom and rips his mask off. At first, he is furious, but his anger dissolves into self pity. Christine, who has not seen his face, timidly gives him back his mask, terrified by his anger. The Phantom takes Christine back to the Opera House.
Meanwhile, in the auditorium, the managers are convincing Carlotta that she will play the lead in an upcoming opera, despite The Phantom’s commands that Christine play the part. The opera is performed, with Carlotta cast in the title role and Christine cast in a silent role. The Phantom’s voice is heard during the show, threatening “A disaster beyond your imagination”. Suddenly, in the middle of an aria, Carlotta loses her voice, and the infuriated diva storms off stage. The ballet dancers attempt to perform a dance, but the dead body of Joseph Buquet, a stagehand, is thrust from the rafters to the middle of the stage, causing terror among the performers and audience. In all the confusion, Christine and Raoul escape to the rooftop, and Christine tells Raoul everything. How The Phantom taught her to sing, how he lived in the cellars, how furious he was when she unmasked him. Little do they know, The Phantom is hiding above them, eavesdropping on their every word.
Raoul attempts to calm Christine, then confesses his love for her and proposes. Christine accepts, and they agree to leave together that night. They go back to the auditorium. The Phantom emerges from his hiding place, and claims he spent all those years teaching Christine for nothing. Slowly plunging into madness, he climbs to the topmost point on the roof and shouts to the sky, “You will curse the day you did not do all that The Phantom asked of you!!” The threat of these words hanging over him, and now consumed with insanity, he sends the grand, glittering chandelier plunging down to the stage at Christine’s feet.
When our story resumes, it is six months later, on New Years Eve, and The Opera House is hosting an annual masquerade ball. The managers have purchased a new chandelier, just as grand and majestic as the old one, and Christine and Raoul have become secretly engaged, Christine wearing her engagement ring on a chain around her neck. No one has heard or seen The Phantom since the night of the dreadful chandelier crash six months ago, and most presume him gone for good. All is well and the ball goes as planned, until at exactly midnight, at the height of the activity, a grotesque figure appears at the top of the grand staircase. The crowd parts as the figure descends down the stairs. The Phantom has returned. He is dressed entirely in blood-red, and a death’s head mask is visible beneath his hood. He pulls from under his robe an opera manuscript entitled “Don Juan Triumphant!” that he has undoubtedly written. He flings it into the manager’s arms, demanding that it be performed. Christine, mesmerized, approaches The Phantom, who freezes for a moment before ripping her engagement ring from her throat, seething, “Your chains are still mine! You will sing for me!!”
On the night of Don Juan’s performance, the dancers and singers are backstage preparing for the show. Christine has the leading female part, and another singer, Ubaldo Piangi, has the title role of Don Juan. The curtain rises, and Piangi and the chorus perform the first scene, and then disappear behind the curtain for Christine’s solo. When Don Juan next appears, he is played by The Phantom, his face shrouded by a large cloak. He and Christine perform the remainder of the opera perfectly, until the final scene. At the climax of the show, The Phantom begins to sing to Christine, softly at first, gradually growing more and more extravagant. At the height of the song, The Phantom gives Christine a ring while singing,
“Anywhere you go, let me go to! Christine, that’s all I ask of you”
As the final word is sung, Christine, consumed with curiosity, reaches up, and before all of the audience, cast, crew, management, and orchestra, strips The Phantom of his mask once more. This time, the whole of the opera house sees his face. Every person in the auditorium goes into an uproar. Every single person leaped to their feet, some of them repulsed by the horrible sight, some petrified in shock, others climbing over the seats to get a better view. For a second, The Phantom is rooted to the spot, seeming, for the first time in his life, not knowing what to do. But, as the forces of law close in on the horrific visage, he sweeps his cloak around himself and Christine, and they both vanish. Meg then runs onto the stage and pulls back the curtain, revealing the dead body of Piangi, his eyes glassy and staring, and his head gruesomely tilted to one side, having been strangled to death by The Phantom. The audience turns into a mob, and they make their way to his carefully hidden lair, furiously chanting,
“Track down this murderer, he must be found!
Hunt out this animal who runs to ground!
Who is this monster, this murdering beast?
Revenge for Piangi!
Revenge for Buquet!
This creature must never go free!
Too long he’s preyed on us, and now we know:
The Phantom of the Opera is there, deep down below!
He’s here: The Phantom of the Opera!
He’s here: The Phantom of the Opera…”
Meanwhile, The Phantom drags Christine back to his lair, half-telling, half-screaming to her about the horrible life he led. How he had narrowly escaped from a freak show, how he had been beaten mercilessly, how his own mother had loathed him, how no one had ever shown him kindness, how he lived miserably in solitude in the sewers, how everyone saw him as nothing more than a freak, how he was forced to hide his face in a mask, how she was the only person who had ever been willing to touch him. After screaming himself hoarse, he breaks down and collapses at her feet, pitifully muttering, “Why, Christine? Why…?”
When they reach the lair again, The Phantom roughly drags Christine out of his gondola and stares blankly into the distance while Christine tries to reason with him. She finally confronts him forcefully, saying that the true distortion lies in his soul, not in his face. Suddenly, Raoul, who has followed The Phantom into the liar, appears at the portcullis. The Phantom senses Raoul’s presence. He then gives Christine a bizarre choice: She must either stay underground with him or he will kill Raoul. Christine argues that murder is pointless and Raoul does not deserve to die, but The Phantom is oblivious to her and fastens the same noose that took Piangi’s life around Raoul’s neck. The Phantom is about to end Raoul’s life right then and there, when Christine, in a desperate attempt to save her fiancée, kisses The Phantom passionately, the first sign of compassion he has ever received in his life. They break apart, Christine gazes into The Phantom’s eyes, and she realizes exactly the extent of how painful and treacherous his life had been. The Phantom hears the mob’s faint chant far off in the distance. He frees Raoul and orders them to leave. The angry mob drawing nearer, he watches them flee from the lair, when a beautiful, but hauntingly familiar melody issues from a small music box in the corner. He sits before it and begins to sing along with it.
“ Masquerade,
Paper faces on parade…
Masquerade,
Hide your face so the world
will never find you…”
He turns around to find Christine standing behind him, holding out the ring he had given her. He slowly takes the ring and puts it on his finger. There, at that moment, he admits his love for Christine. Christine slowly leaves the lair and boards the gondola with Raoul. As they sing together off in the distance, The Phantom wraps his cloak around himself and vanishes. The angry mob bursts into the lair, but all that remains of The Phantom is a white mask.
“This book is a work of genius,” I thought as I laid the battered and worn book on my nightstand. Not only was this a great book, it also held an important message. When I first picked up the book, judging by its appearance, I though it would be long and boring. Having read it, I know now that judging someone or something by outward appearance is wrong. Erik, who had never been shown kindness in his life, was compassionate, patient, talented, and intelligent. Had he been born with a normal face, he would have been the most distinguished of mankind! But no, he was too abhorrent. What shall become of The Opera Ghost? Shall we pity him? Loathe him? All he ever wanted was to be loved, to be someone, like everyone else, but nobody would accept him. He had a heart that could have held the empire of the word; and in the end he had to content himself with a cellar. Surely we may pity the Opera Ghost! I shall take a leaf from Lemony Snicket’s book, and say I spent the whole day sobbing uncontrollably.
So please remember, do not judge a book by its cover, especially if that book has a navy blue cover, yellow, musty pages, or has anything to do with an Opera Ghost.
The novel “Le Fantome de L’opera” by Gaston Leroux was adapted into Andrew Lloyd Webber’s hit musical, “The Phantom of the Opera.” Which now plays worldwide and is the longest running musical in Broadway history.
Well, I suppose my mom is right sometimes. Le Fantome de l'Opera really affected me as a person, really. I was very much changed for the better after reading it. I know that sounds cheesy, but it's true. If you haven't read it, please do so. You will not be dissapointed, I garuantee. ...I sound like the Wal-Mart guy...
Please review, flames welcome.
God Bless,
Frenchie-chan
