He's There, Inside Your Mind

When I was a teenager, GQ published a long list of things every man should have accomplished by the time he reaches 30 years of age. While most of the items on the check-list could have only been done with an unlimited bank account, there were actually several worthy goals.

[This was back when GQ was still a very good magazine and actually projected a lifestyle worthy of some emulation. To show you the magazine's relevance today, Jack Black is on the current cover. I'm not hatin': he's occasionally funny and a semi-talented singer. But, c'mon, this is GQ, not International Male.]

When I was in my early twenties and still entertained the thought that my first million dollars was right around the corner, I made my own list of things I wanted to accomplish by the time I was 30. There is a small part of me that wants to pull that list out, even if just to show the Wiser Me how puerile and pretentious I was over a decade ago.

Anyway, one of the items on my personal to-do list was to see Phantom of the Opera on Broadway.

I don't think I knew anybody who expressed a deep love of Phantom until I was nineteen or twenty. It took me going to Portugal, of all places, to find one of the greatest stories ever told set to some of the greatest music ever written. One of my companions owned the taped soundtrack; we'd listen to it almost every night. I got the soundtrack on cd the next Christmas and it has been a faithful companion since.

In 2002 (with only one year left to accomplish my un-checked to-do list), we took a vacation to New York. While I've since forced the cost of the tickets out of my memory, Melissa and I went to see Phantom while the rest of the family saw Beauty and the Beast. I'm sure it was great, but probably won't rival Phantom as the longest-running (which was accomplished last Monday) and top-producing Broadway musical of all time.

If you can look past the obsession that leads to lying, stalking, kidnapping, false imprisonment, extortion, and murder, Phantom is an utterly romantic tale of unrequited love. And c'mon, what doesn't scream unrequited love like lying, stalking, kidnapping, false imprisonment, extortion, and murder?

The movie version was on HBO this morning. It was fantastic (or is that Phan-tastic?) in the movie theatre but less than such on the small screen.

First of all, Emmy Rossum is very darling; but she's not Sarah Brightman, in looks or vocal charm. It's difficult to sing with the movie when the original soundtrack has been ingrained in your mind for almost a decade and a half. It's comparable to watching a certain baseball position once played with the grace and poise of Joe DiMaggio one decade then watching that same position being played by Johnny Damon the next.

Second, I was able to overlook small changes in script and character development. But to not have the chandelier fall down at the half-way point and wait until the end? That's just blasphemy.

Still, it's perhaps my favorite story.