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PHANTOM
OF THE PARADISE Long before he sold out to create corporate dreck like Mission: Impossible, Brain De Palma was a talented horror director (Carrie, Sisters, all those 80’s Hitchcock “tributes”) and a God to cocaine aficionados (Scarface). His early effort Phantom of the Paradise is an oft-overlooked Glam Trash tasty treat, a must see for fans of 70’s excess and platform boots. This rock and roll take on The Phantom of the Opera and Faust sets the precedent for garish, glam rock flicks, preceding both The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Tommy by a year. Overacted, poorly cast, and requiring just...um....”some” suspension of belief, Phantom of the Paradise takes a cool premise and drags it into that special realm of “WHAT WHERE THEY THINKING?” Though technically clever (split-screen!), it’s obvious no one on board knew rock music. But Phantom. is so clueless,
it’s fun. How plausible is a sold-out metal audience being appreciative
when a splatter-rock band’s performance is interrupted by an easy
listening artist? Maybe because aforementioned croonster is underrated
trash star Goddess Jessica Harper (Suspiria, Shock Treatment) whose big
rockin’ move throughout the film is twirling? Twirl, Jessica, twirl!
How about casting Top 40 balladeer Paul Williams (“Evergreen,”
“We’ve Only Just Begun”) as the demonic Swan, the world’s
biggest HARD rock star and proprietor of the Led Zeppelin-inspired Death
Records? So wrong! Decades later, it’s still impossible to tell
if this film is a horror movie (there’s a wonderful opera of death
& chaos at the end that ranks among De Palma’s best sequences)
or a campy comedy (Gerrit Graham --The short, shag-haired Swan (Williams) making out with protege Phoenix (Harper) in a LONG, unflinching scene that will make even the strongest stomach scream, “TURN IT OFF!” --The Phantom (William Finley) rolling his eye around in his mask like it’s a loose marble. This professionalism shows us he’s upset (see above) and usually occurs as Finley emotes “PHOENIX!” --Phoenix’s audition. Defies description. (Hint: She twirls.) --The mini-mulleted blonde
extra in the red and blue-flowered shirt who somehow gets into almost
every scene during the end’s extravaganza of pain. --“Upholstery/Where my baby sits up close to me.” --The fact that this film emits Phantom Pheromones of Evil that make you watch it repeatedly, force you to sing Williams’ score in the shower, and make you write glowing reviews of this delightful mess whenever possible. -Zzilly Gutbuckets (aka Lizz Fisher) |
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