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Splash the Ocean

I know it’s the height of uncool to like musicals, and to keep my credibility here I ought to be writing an entry about how much I loved seeing Dayglo Abortions at the Horseshoe Tavern, but…I’d take Michael Crawford being angsty in a mask over indie club music, any day.

I fell in love with musicals one Sunday afternoon in the early eighties. No one was home, I had nothing to read, and there was nothing on tv. So I went through my dad’s records and found Carnival and put it on. I was immediately inthralled. It was like reading a book. I listened to the songs and closed my eyes and imagined the story to go with it. That summer was spent listening to South Pacific, Annie, Oliver, and of course Carnival. Twenty two years later, I can still sing “Everybody Likes You” word for word - which, suprisingly, was sung originally by the late crusty Law and Order icon, Jerry Orbach.

But in 1986, I discovered modern musicals. The Phantom of the Opera had just begun on Broadway, and though I had no faith that anything modern could possibly hold a candle to the wonder of “I Hate Him”, or “Her Face”, I was curious and asked another kid to make me a tape. That summer was spent singing along with Michael Crawford, as he pined after the (dreary but prettily voiced) Christine. Duets! Passion! Drama! I was a complete convert. In the years which followed, my Dream Academy and Phil Collins tapes were shoved to the back of the tape case to make room for Les Mis, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Into the Woods, and Miss Saigon.

Apparently, Jesus Christ Superstar doesn’t translate well without the background music; I was listening to it with headphones and singing along when Paula gently asked if I could stop shouting, “Jesus must DIIIIIIIE,” for a little while.

I saw The Secret Garden (eerie as hell; the audience was made up of 924 girls with Mary Lennox bows in their hair, assorted mothers, Todd, and me) and Passion live on stage, I spent a year listening to Rent. As I grew older, the musical theatre boom faded away. Aspects of Love bombed, then CATS ended its long run. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s latest musical was met with helpless giggles by the audience, which would have been fine if it hadn’t been a drama. I counted myself very lucky when, eight years later, Wicked began a Broadway run.

And then…they finally made the Phantom of the Opera movie. The Really Useful Group had been threatening to make it since 1987, when Michael Jackson was their top pick to play the Phantom. I’m surprised they didn’t hire him in the end. Think of the money the financially struggling producers could have saved on makeup.

After his surprise come-back in the ’90s, John Travolta was their next choice. I liked it even less than Michael Jackson. As the years went by and the movie plans dragged on, I lost hope that the movie would ever be made. But, here we are, seventeen years later. Interest in the Phantom has all but vanished, leaving the producers with a cast whose biggest collective claim to fame was a four minute role in “Mystic River”.

After seventeen years, I could have borne one glaring error. If the lip-synching had been poorly done, or Raoul had looked fifteen with a shoulder length bob, if the Phantom had looked just like John Travolta circa 1991 with a mask on, if his voice had sounded like the raspy end of an electric guitar lick, if the sets had the too-saturated, too-large feel of stage props…just one of those would have been fine. But not all of them.

I walked out soon after the first appearance of the Phantom (whose credits include the internationally acclaimed “Lara Croft: Tomb Raider” and “Tales of the Mummy”) surprised that I was the only one doing so. Of course, I was also one of the oldest people in the theatre. I doubt anyone in the audience had even heard of the musical before seeing the movie.

When Wicked comes to Toronto this spring, you can bet I’ll be in the best seats I can find, sobbing for Elphaba as she tries to find her lost love. But I’m glad that Carnival has been largely forgotten in the 43 years since it was written. For me, musicals work best in book form, my imagination turning Michael Crawford’s Phantom into the disturbed hero and Sarah Brightman’s Christine into a strong, intelligent - okay, even my imagination can’t make that kind of stretch - turning Christine into someone a leeetle less vacuous, the story unfolding in my head, and not at the mercy of a money-driven film industry.

© 2004 QN Podcast (formerly Quirky Nomads).