PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (1974) is crazy, really good crazy, and you’d be bad crazy not to see it

Posted by Stephen Jannise

It has always been a mystery to me why Brian De Palma is so often discussed as an inventive and unique filmmaker, mostly because I know him as the guy who made Mission: Impossible, Carlito’s Way, and The Untouchables. These were all solid entertainments that showed an appreciation for and firm grasp of classical and well-established modes of cinematic storytelling, but none of these films seemed particularly groundbreaking. However, I’m told that Scarface, playing next week at the Alamo Village, is more than simply a tired retread of the 1932 classic, and I can definitely now report that Phantom of the Paradise is a gloriously insane mish-mash of literary and cinematic references that was in many ways ahead of its time.

De Palma, also the lone screenwriter, leaves no stone unturned in using seemingly every single story ever told of someone making a contract with the Devil to get what they want. The most obvious allusion, The Phantom of the Opera, is upgraded to the 1970s, the Paris Opera House replaced by a hopping 70s nightclub called Paradise. In this case, though, we know how the Phantom came to be scarred and depressed. A songwriter named Winslow got caught up in a Faustian relationship with Swan, the Mephistopheles record producer who runs the Death Records label and owns the Paradise club. Swan is stuck in a deal with the devil himself, which prevents him from aging while a film of him does age a la The Picture of Dorian Gray.

I love the look of The Phantom, and how he came by it.

Cinematically, De Palma also pays tribute to past masters, including a shower murder that recalls Hitchcock’s Psycho and a few images taken directly from The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Otherwise, though, De Palma plays with the medium in a number of interesting ways. There is a great split-screen sequence, in which we see a Paradise rehearsal through the usual series of camera angles on one side and entirely from the perspective of the prowling Phantom on the other. In addition, we get several fourth wall-breaking glances directly into the camera lens, some nice roving camera movements, and a couple revolving shots.

Often, directors are accused of showing off with these kinds of stylistic devices, and De Palma is frequently one of those being accused. Here, I think he is just desperately fighting to make sure the material he has been given plays as a piece of cinema. The songs, some good, some forgettable, all written by Paul Williams (who also portrays the evil Swan and provides the singing voice for the Phantom), threaten to ask the question: why wasn’t this done as a Broadway musical? The style of the songs is fitting to the burgeoning rock opera movement of Andrew Lloyd Webber and The Rocky Horror Show, but where Rocky Horror had several undeniably catchy tunes and a standout performance from Tim Curry, Phantom of the Paradise succeeds largely due to De Palma’s cinematic shenanigans, so I’m more than willing to let him have at it in this case.

It's evil incarnate, singer/songwriter Paul Williams

De Palma also deftly blends more genres than I could keep track of. This is a rock opera, sure, but it’s also got a little backstage musical, a little horror, even, believe it or not, a little taste of the Mafia madness that had been started two years earlier by The Godfather. Not only does De Palma mix film genres, but Williams also attempts nothing less than to journey through the history of rock and roll from the 1950s to the 1970s. From Beach Boys surf rock to Ziggy Stardust, Williams reminds us of these various sounds and of the tendency for these and all the genres in between to resurface during periods of retro nostalgia, hip once again if only for a moment.

And a moment is about as generous a measurement as you can give to the rock opera. Really, the main reason to see this film is simply to remember a type of music, a type of musical, and a general kind of nightlife atmosphere that proved to be not nearly as important as many who were involved with it thought it would be. Even the more frequently acknowledged artifacts from this moment, like Rocky Horror, are mostly treated in mocking tones, as a great excuse to put on a costume and go get drunk at midnight on a Friday. Still, you can’t say that this film didn’t beat the more critically beloved Network to predicting that television ratings would one day be so coveted that a man might kill for them. And you also can’t say that this film doesn’t have a great opening credits performance by fictional band The Juicy Fruits. Because it does.

In fact, just watching that clip makes me want to take the ride all over again. And if it hasn’t convinced you, I give up. If it has, you still have a chance to see Phantom of the Paradise Monday night at the Ritz!