Somebody Super Like You - Phantom Of The Paradise (1974)

Give me a film that touches on creativity, copyright, romance, deals with the devil and a touch of queer (y’know, things I’m likely to love) and I will love you.

I’ll also probably tell you that there’s no need to give me that shit, because I already have Phantom Of The Paradise and I will then ask if you’ve watched it.

And if you haven’t, I will point you in the right direction, lend it to you, buy if for you or give you a filthy look for never hearing of it. (If you’re wondering, it’s available to buy and rent on YouTube, so while we’re all locked up at home during the Corona-virus epidemic thingie, you don’t even have a fucking excuse.)

Unfortunately, I can’t actually remember where I heard about the film, or who told me about it; it could have been a random tweet or conversation that I don’t remember. And I’m sorry; if that was you, I owe you a LOT of stuff for introducing me to this epic piece of cinema, and you should be proud that I have passed this love and introduced as many other people to this as possible.

Why? Because it’s beautiful and amazing and entertaining and fun and heartbreaking and weird and queer and stupid and silly and camp and fabulous and…I’m sort of running out of words to say here to truly embrace my love for this film.

Released in 1974, Phantom Of The Paradise touches on all of the elements I’ve mentioned above, in itself a work that doesn’t feel entirely original and is all the more amazing because of it; a touch of Faust, a sprinkling of The Picture Of Dorian Grey, and all served with this overarching promise of The Phantom Of The Opera (more the classic 1910 novel than the famous Andrew Lloyd Webber musical that landed 1986. Y’know, after this take. I’ll touch on these dates again later, but it’s worth noting that this film predates a lot of the other content it might get compared to.)

With all of this in mind, I can’t help but wonder if Lloyd Webber is or was even aware of this film, even now; Phantom Of The Paradise echoes a certain punk air that can also be seen in the epic rock-opera feels of Lloyd Webber’s show, but at a basic level, Phantom Of The Paradise feels so subtly like such an unwatched and unloved masterpiece that it fills me with excitement to know that anybody else has even heard of this film, let alone seen it (or bought it.)

All of that said, this is all coming from my own perspective; just because this is an obscure film does not mean that it’s a secret. The film has been remastered and re-released, available in BluRay via Arrow Films and even though I don’t really ~do~ podcasts, the guys over at the HorrorQueer’s podcast take a fabulous and fun look at the film too, to the point that I don’t even know if it’s worth writing about it.

But I fucking want to, dammit.

What irritates me, though, is that I can’t look at this film without some sort of comparison to Phantom Of The Opera, at least the musical (that came after this) and the cinema adaptation in which Gerard Butler tried to sing as the Phantom. Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy (*cough, 300, cough*) but he just doesn’t have the voice to sell me on the Phantom. (And, yeah, he’s too fucking handsome to be the unloved monster in the basement that is the Phantom of the Paris opera house. ) (Tha said, as a sexy aside, yeah, I have been to the Palais Garnier in Paris and took that picture below. Just because it’s a work of fiction doesn’t mean that you can’t be inspired and have fun!)

But The Phantom Of The Opera is a very different sort of narrative to this film; for all the decadence and fancy of the Paris opera, the 70s night-club vibes of Phantom Of The Paradise do away with (some) of the pretty airs and graces of the opera, moving things to a far more punk, underground type of feel to this film.

I say type; ladies and gents, I am aware of 70s culture and heritage, even if I didn’t live through it myself.

I reference punk and underground because these things sort of tie into something at the heart of this story: copyright, and taking ownership of one’s own art, with starting with Winslow Leach (William Finley) performing a song he has written as a pitch to famous record producer and nightclub owner Swan (Paul Williams.)

Just. Swan.

Swan “acquires” Leach’s music under the promise of a future career, only for Swan to re-purpose and restyle it to suit his own market. When Leach tries to confront Swan at an later audition, he meets the queuing Phoenix (Jessica Harper), somewhat smitten as she sings his work, hearing it in the style that he has envisioned. When Leach tries to confront Swan, he is taken away, framed for drug possession and brought to prison where his teeth are removed. Just…because.

Such world and character-building is delivered at a breathless speed, rushing to a point some time later wherein Leach hears his work re-purposed on the radio; depressed and furious, he escapes from prison, breaking into Swan’s office to destroy the records that misuse his work. The attack damages Leach’s face and throat, leading to a broken and theatrical-mask wearing Leach pursuing Swan.

Swan recognises Leach, seeing further opportunities for his own career: he offers Leach the opportunity to have his work portrayed his way in Swan’s new nightclub, the Paradise; Swan creates a device that restores some element of Leach’s voice, allowing him to demand that Phoenix be the one to sing his work after singing his unread contracts.

Unfortunately, Swan sees thing slightly differently than Leach, hiring Beef (Gerrit Graham) to perform the work in a camp and somewhat goth-punk fashion that could be likened to that of Frank-N-Furter in The Rocky Horror Picture Show…if only that weren’t released after this film. At the same time, Swan pursues a relationship with Phoenix, one that screams power and ownership rather than any sense of romance, leading to an infuriated Leach pursuing his revenge.

Perhaps this is one of the bigger appeals to me for Phantom Of The Paradise, a film that, in amongst the camp and silly horror aesthetics and styles, remains a film about someone’s ownership of their own rights, and their sense of identity.

Leach, as an individual characters, becomes somewhat lost as the Phantom, and may as well be a completely different character.

It’s somewhat telling that this plays into the very production of the film as well, with Finley spending most of the later half of the film in full-face mask and toothless make-up. In an act that beautifully addresses this idea of copyright with the idea of body and bodily autonomy, it is somewhat uncomfortable to see the vile Swan taking responsibility for the creation of Leach’s “new” voice, and in a gorgeous meta narrative, the Phantom’s singing voice is actually provided by Swan’s actor (and real-life musician and producer) Paul Williams (who himself wanted to play the Phantom in the movie…thank fuck for extra content on your BluRay purchases!)

The idea that Leach loses his identity in this deal with Swan plays into the Faustian tones of the film, and such are moments that the film makes no attempt to hide. It is somewhat fitting that Swan has recorded this deal (and many many others) in an uncomfortable perverted moment that, once again, screams about the absolute power that Swan has over our hero.

It is not just Leach’s creations (and his soul) that he has signed away, however; even the very act of his process of creativity is stolen, with Swan locking him into a room to and drugging him in order to create his magnum opus, While Phantom Of The Paradise does so far more subtly than Misery, the film takes Roland Barthes’ The Death Of The Author somewhat to heart, pushing its characters, and its audience, to analyse the very act of creativity.

It’s a subtle beat within the film that may not be noticed by all viewers, but the supporting characters of the film are similarly re-appropriated throughout: the 50s-style group the Juicy Fruits, who are seen performing just ahead of Leach’s initial appearance, are also under Swan’s management, later repurposed as the Beach Boys-styled Beach Bums and then The Undead, with make-up that definitely has airs of Kiss…or Robbie Williams’ Let Me Entertain You (which was out 23 years ago. We’re all fucking old…)

It seams somewhat fitting that I’m able to make those references and comments on similarities within other pop-culture references when I’m writing about a film and suggesting that copyright and ownership are at its heart; not just ownership of your work, but also your soul.

But, of course, I wouldn’t be doing my thing on this website if I weren’t going to look on Phantom Of The Paradise through my usual queer lenses.

And it’s very hard not to look at some of this film with a review of its treatments of gender and sexuality, across many of its characters; I compared this previously to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but while that plays its sexuality cards with screaming obviousness, Phantom is more subtle, and somewhat more powerful because of it.

Phoenix is something of our final girl (it’s not a horror film, but work with me on this); she’s one of the only female characters in the film allowed to have any dialogue or a name (when I think about it, I think there’s a few group scenes where other women are allowed to dance or sing. Swan’s secretary may have a few words, and we see a few female audience members during the stage-show, but that’s sort of it.) But in that right, Phoenix is sort of unimportant; she just happens to be caught in the middle of this narrative about two adult men.

The portrayals of both Swan and Leach are somewhat asexual (especially when compared to the aforementioned Rocky Horror.) That’s not to say that the characters don’t get to have some sex; the audience is treated to Swan’s manipulations of Phoenix (later in the film) and also his attendance at an orgy (that is also attended by Leach. Just so he can speak with Swan. With Leach in drag.) But in both of these scenes, Swan is somewhat uninterested, as if this is nothing more than a necessary act to maintain either his imagery or his facade. While Phoenix is offering herself to Swan(and the Phantom watches from a window along the rooftop), it isn’t entirely clear if Swan knows that Leach is watching, and is somewhat happy to see it too.

Similarly, Leach’s reaction to this scene suggests he is more angry and hurt by Swan’s manipulation of Phoenix than in anything sexual. While Swan gets his orgy and his sex scene, Leach doesn’t even get a hint of an idea of a romance: sure, he likes Phoenix’s voice, but I don’t think there’s any physical attraction there.

Does he want to ride anyone?

Perhaps Leach is, instead, a man who is committed to his craft and his creations. Or, maybe, he just gets his fill in prison.

Of course, this viewing of these specific characters and their interactions takes on a completely different edge nearly fifty years after the film’s release; some of that may definitely come from the eyes and hands of this writer.

BUT COME ON, PEOPLE, LET’S TAKE A FUCKING LOOK AT BEEF!

The punky leader of our operatic night at the Paradise, Beef doesn’t get himself much screen-time when compared with Swan, Leach or Phoenix. But he does steal the show, a butch muscular body speaking with a camp, forced lisp. Portrayed as something of a coke-fiend, the ultra-masculine Beef (sure, c’mon, just look at that name!) gets assaulted by the Phantom in the shower when his star-of-the-show vibes demote Phoenix to the supporting act.

Beef’s very presence in Phantom Of The Paradise turns the film queer as hell, and it is through his present (and because of it) , that I see the other characters and their interactions through those different gender/sexual eye; otherwise, this is just a glorious pseudo-horror about manipulation and creativity.

Give me some Beef, and that changes dramatically.

Towards the end of the film, as Leach searches for a way out of his contract with Swan, we are treated to a large stash of Swan’s other contracts: the film takes on a supernatural tone, if just for those few seconds, as it reveals Swan’s own video of making his own contract. For our previously sexy (or asexual) view of Swan, this is a video that portrays him as something like a child in the bath, wholly lacking in the sexiness and power that the film has tried to portray.

Such a video suggests to us that Swan is not the villain of the film, but is just as pitifully manipulated as everyone else.

It also makes us wonder if our other characters in this film, our not-quite-the-Beach-Boys and Beef himself , have made similar deals, guaranteeing their own fame (the implicit answer is yes, yes they have.)

Even if not looking at Phantom Of The Paradise from that particular perspective, the film remains a hell of a lot of fun. I’ve told everyone who’ll listen about this film, and in writing this I’m hoping to do much the same, arguing that this should be as loved as some of similar movies.

That’s right: I’m flat out saying that I rank Phantom Of The Paradise better than The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

What a fucking statement, eh?