I came upon this fabulous art series that tells the tale of Blue Beard and it inspired me to sit and think a little about the Blue Beard reference in Phantom of the Opera. 

What do we think Erik means by name dropping the wife-murdering Blue Beard? His warning to Christine, to remember that terrible story, is made in anger. It’s really more of a threat than a warning, isn’t it? Raoul and Daroga are on the other side of the wall, in the torture chamber. Christine has stolen the keys that could free them. Erik is as unhinged here as we have ever seen him before. 

Does he reference this old story because of Christine’s curiosity - because it is fundamentally a story about female curiosity? Or is it the element of marriage? Or murder? Is he simply being terrible - or is it foreshadowing? Erik has already connected love and death several times - remember his threat to make his coffin-bed larger, for the two of them, for their final days? That remark was also made in anger. Is Erik threatening to kill Christine? Or is he only trying to frighten her? Blue Beard was married several times. Is Erik perhaps telling Christine there were other women before her? If so, what became of them? 

What did Leroux intend for us to feel, seeing that name - Blue Beard - come out of Erik’s mouth? 

Blue Beard by Walter Crane

You may or may not believe it, but I was thinking about the various similarities (approximately) between Blue Beard and The Phantom of the Opera - or better said Erik - just yesterday.

If we think about it, the anologies are not few: 1) Both are French (in fact, it is widely believed that Blue Beard’s tale is based on the figure of Gilles de Rais); 2) Both are regarded by women as ugly and scary (Blue Beard because of the color of his beard, Erik because of his face), and only his boundless wealth allowed Blue Beard to have several wives (six, if I remember correctly); 3) Both ‘warn’ the female protagonists of their stories not to be overcome by curiosity (Blue Beard’s wife for the forbidden room and Christine for the mask); 4) Both have to ‘deal’ with two men who try to deprive them of their female protagonists (the Daroga and the Viscount for Christine, her brothers for Blue Beard’s wife); 5) Both are notorious murderers (Blue Beard killed his wives, Erik had been a political assassin in the East - if I remember correctly).

I don’t remember if there are any other “similarities,” honestly.

As to why Leroux put this cross-reference to Blue Beard’s fable… Well, this is just the latest of numerous references to other works/fables, isn’t it? There’s Poe’s Red Death, Andreas Munch’s Little Lotte, the clear analogy to the myth of Hades and Persephone… I think, simply, Leroux’s was a clever way to make his novel “take root” more in the minds of readers; to make it so that when reading other works/fables one would immediately (or almost) remember “The Phantom of the Opera.” It is a ploy that several writers still use today, after all…

The explicit moral of Blue Beard is indeed more like „curiosity killed the cat“ than „girls, beware of serial killer husbands“. I think Erik is prompted to refer to this story by Christine telling him it‘s her „feminine curiosity“ that makes her want to see the torture chamber. There are some notable differences to the Blue Beard story as well in this particular scene:

1. Christine already knows what‘s behind the door - the torture chamber. Erik hasn‘t made this a secret. He only told her not to go in because it would be dangerous for her (which is most likely true).

2. There are no dead bodies lying around in the torture chamber, so there is no „terrible secret“ to uncover there. Erik‘s worst secret was already discovered during the unmasking scene (when Christine was too curious as well and found Death staring back at her), but apart from 2 weeks of captivity, Erik never attempted to kill her like Blue Beard did (although he probably uttered his fair share of threats as well, from what Christine tells Raoul). However, when he says that he doesn‘t like curious women, there might also be an accusatory connotation because it reminds him of her transgression.

3. Blue Beard purposefully gave his new wife the key to the room to test her (and give him a reason to kill her). Erik never gave Christine the key, she tried to steal it from him to free Raoul and the Persian.

I don‘t think the reference is meant to imply that Erik has a history of killing former wives because there‘s really nothing in the story to back this up. Leroux gave us his life story in the epilogue, and I think that‘s the kind of detail that he would have mentioned - especially since Erik‘s criminal history is not omitted. To me, it‘s mostly a threat delivered in rage and resentment while Erik and Christine are fighting, and as @ladymisteria has already mentioned, references to classic stories like this one are very common - especially in PotO.

Dracula, Jonathan Harker, May 28

The Phantom of the Opera, Christine Daaé, At the Masked Ball

Another parallel between Jonathan and Christine…they both desperately fling letters to strangers in the hopes they will reach the intended destination. While Jonathan’s plan does not work and his letter ends up in the hands of the Count himself, Christine’s letter ends up exactly where it is meant to go. 

But have you ever wondered about Christine’s letter to Raoul with the mask ball instructions? 

Considering that Erik has put a lot of thought into his own costume, is it possible he had dictated to Christine what she should wear? Is it possible Erik has also commanded what Raoul should wear? What if it was Erik’s idea to invite Raoul to the masked ball - simply for the drama of it? 

I like that idea! It would definitely fit Erik’s brand of humour to have Raoul dress up in what seems to be a woman‘s costume. And from the lost chapter, we know that Erik is actually not coming after Raoul and Christine at the masked ball, but has his own plans. It is absolutely possible that he was aware of Raoul’s presence - just like he was in on the secret „engagement“…

Part one of my videos exploring the novel, starting with Christine’s age

Many thanks to @fdelopera @glassprism and @thephantomessoftheopera for assisting me with this

Something about this resonates very deeply with me. I’ve been mulling over why it moves me so much, and I think it is because to me, this image and quote sum up perfectly what PotO is about. It‘s not the story of a madman who randonly terrorizes an opera house for fun and starts obsessing over a pretty girl - the way the story is presented in almost every mainstream summary. No - Erik‘s love for Christine is at the beginning of everything. Without it, he wouldn‘t be the Opera Ghost. It is his prime motivation and purpose. And it is also the end of everything for him, because he dies of it. His love for her ultimately kills him, one way or another. And it‘s that absoluteness that is so incredibly touching. Love is truly at the core of everything.

Sex, death, and rock n roll

Take me to the place where you go

Where nobody knows

If it's night or day

But please don't put your life in the hands

Of a rock and roll band

Who'll throw it all away

I was listening to a bit of Oasis the other day - those lyrics are from their song Don’t Look Back in Anger - and funnily enough, I thought of Erik.  Erik as the rock and roll band. Deep, man. 

There is a great desire to be rescued from our shitty, boring, difficult lives. God, the longing I had as a teenager for someone to come and see me for the glorious being I truly was, and whisk me away from the drudgery of school and every day mundanities. Where was my handsome prince, my rock and roll band in whose hands I could place my life??

Traditionally it’s the Handsome Prince who rides on in his magnificent steed, who sees the poor, down at heel young woman, marred by the cares of the world, who sees her for the beautiful and fascinating person she is, and transforms her life. 

Erik sees Christine’s potential when everyone around her is too stupid or too busy to notice. He swoops in and sets her on a path of vocal, emotional and sexual transformation; he reveals her true, magnificent nature. And yes, the idea of being transformed in this way by a dark genius who is obsessed with us is deeply attractive. It’s low effort and, thanks to his wondrous ways with vocal teaching and nefarious ways of murder and extortion, success is almost certainly guaranteed. 

And while Christine becomes known and acknowledged and loved for who she truly is, Erik himself becomes ever shrouded in mystery, at least to the outside world and perhaps to himself. Instead of being merely an annoying Opera Ghost, he's a fearsome Angel of Music, a messenger of the divine, sent from heaven. 

Of course, Christine had two ‘princes’ to rescue her, the lucky girl, Raoul who is truly an aristocratic, handsome princeling in stark contrast to Erik, her dark prince.  Erik, the worker (he builds the opera house, remember), the ugly and the unwelcome, is the opposite of princely. In the original novel, Leroux directs us to associate Erik with the most terrifying of the working classes, the Communards. When the story was first published, as a serialisation in Parisian newspapers, the memory of the terror of the Commune would still have haunted the readers. 

So what’s a girl to do? There Christine is, living the dream, with not one but two men trying to rescue her from her terrible fate of being an unmarried 19th century woman trying to have a bit of a career, but neither man presents much of an option. Give it all up to marry Raoul. Give it all up to marry Erik. She tells Raoul she’s never going to marry, given the choice. Erik gives her his version of a choice; sex or death. He wants sex, and probably so does she, but to her, it’s sex and death. Sex with death. Maybe she was into this. Leroux suggests she definitely was not considering she tried to take her own life by hammering her head against the wall.  

Leroux doesn’t offer us a definitive answer as to what happens to Christine and her two princes. The final events of the novel are told to us secondhand. We get to hear the words of that most unreliable of narrators, Erik, through his only friend possible co-conspirator, the Daroga. Conveniently, he tells the reporter of the story - GL - that Raoul and Christine go off to the mountains never to be seen again, and no one appears to want to check this fact. Philippe is dead, but is no one going to ask the rest of the de Chagny family where Raoul went?  Apparently not. And we can’t ask Christine’s Mamma Valerius because she is presented as a mad old woman.  A big mystery. Let’s not go digging around too deeply for what we might find.

What might have happened to Christine had her two princes not come along to rescue her? Sh always strikes me as a feisty young woman who probably didn’t want rescuing so much as she wanted a bit of a career, with a nice bit of sex with death on the side.  But I guess, if you have all control over your life, all choices removed, it can feel very much like death, metaphorically, and perhaps in Christine’s case, literally.

Andrew Lloyd Webber made the story into one of redemption, which can be equated very easily with the central redemptive myth of Christianity. Christine, the Christ, willingly chooses death by negating her own wishes and desires and kissing a really ugly man, the central act of the musical which is symbolic of her metaphorical self sacrificial death - make of that what you will (Let’s avoid the fact that many people think the musical is an expression ALW’s own, but highly profitably, psycho-drama) - and in doing so, everyone is restored to freedom and life. Except Erik. Who dies. Except he doesn’t die, does he?  Not in ALW’s alternate universe fanmusical…gawd. Anyway. Let’s not go there either. 

Leroux offers no such easy hope.  He’s at best agnostic towards the fate of Christine and Raoul. Christine’s sacrifice might have saved them all, it might not have done and they might both have been killed.  Who knows.  That’s where the fanfic writers come in. 

Leroux doesn’t strike me as a man given to write moral tales for the improvement of young ladies. But inherent in his story is a warning: choose sex, choose thrills, choose sex with death, choose putting your life in the hands of a rock and roll band, you might end up dead. Perhaps given the era he was writing in, he just couldn’t help himself. 

If you don’t like Leroux’s ending, don’t look back in anger, get writing, get reading those fics by writers who make it all OK. 

Great and very interesting piece of writing! I do love Leroux’s ending a lot so I‘ll just add my thoughts on it. As I see it, Leroux did acknowledge that a girl should actually be allowed to explore her darker instincts and want a bit of sex and death in her life. Because the moment she sincerely agrees to accept Erik as a man and not kill herself, she chooses life. She doesn’t die, but she gains life and freedom not only for herself, but for everyone. Yes, Erik (probably) dies, but he is transformed before, he is no longer a monster, but a human who has experienced „all the happiness in the world“. So the „rock and roll band“ can potentially kill you, but if you truly accept it, it sets you free instead.

Of course, we do not know what really happened to Raoul and Christine, but there is no evidence of things being different from how GL narrates them, and since the focus is ultimately not on Raoul and Christine, but on Erik, the fact that their happy ending is not shown in detail might be simply due to it not being very relevant to the story that Leroux wanted to tell - Erik’s story. Mama Valerius can‘t be asked because she also disappeared at the same time - and I assume it‘s more likely that Christine took her with them instead of Erik specifically going to seek her out and kill her afterwards, especially since he‘s a rather reluctant killer in the novel.

More (possible) references to Dracula in the Phantom of the Opera

May 7

Jonathan Harker reports that, yet again, Dracula does not eat with him:

Christine Daaé too, must eat alone. 

It should be noted that Christine realizes immediately that she is Erik’s prisoner while, as of May 7, Jonathan still thinks he is on a perfectly respectable work trip. 

Erik himself suggests that he goes through periods of time in which he does not eat (living on music alone). In this passage he is peak drama, referencing both his coffin-bed and his ability to live without food or sleep for “years at a time”:

Jonathan reports that there are no mirrors anywhere - what an inconvenience! 

Christine also notices the lack of mirrors at Erik’s house on the lake. She does not yet know that Erik actually has an entire room full of mirrors, but she will. One day.

I do not know if these details from Phantom of the Opera are actually references to Dracula. I don’t even know if Gaston Leroux read Bram Stoker’s Dracula or when it was first translated into French. But there are so many small details that Erik shares with Dracula that it seems to be intentional. 

Erik is not a vampire. But he likes to play up his macabre appearance when he’s in a mood. He doesn’t need to sleep in a coffin or to refrain from food the way Count Dracula does; we all assume he has no mirrors in his home because he doesn’t want to look at himself, not because he would have no reflection. Erik does these things for affect. He wants to disturb people - even Christine. And Leroux wants him to disturb us, the reader. 

As Dracula was published in 1897, past the time when the events of the Phantom of the Opera should have occurred, in the mid-1880′s, it might not make sense for Erik to be self-aware of the Dracula references himself. As a character, Erik seems to intentionally reference Edgar Allan Poe’s 1842 story with his Red Death costume but we can’t make the same assumption that Erik has read Dracula, as the dates don’t line up. Although, Leroux’s 1909 novel has lots of other anachronisms, so maybe I’m overthinking this and Erik really is meant to be a fan of Dracula. Leroux certainly seems to be one. 

I am also wondering how much of those might be actual „Dracula“ references, or a case of both works referencing common vampire motifs. Apparently, „Dracula“ was only translated to French in the 1920s. But that does not necessarily mean Leroux couldn‘t have read it. He certainly included actual vampire characters in his writings, for example in his 1923 novel „La poupée sanglante“. We need to keep in mind though that long before Stoker‘s „Dracula“ came along, vampires had already experienced a huge surge in popularity in France. Nodier‘s dramatization of Polidori‘s „The Vampire“ introduced the figure of the byronesque, blood-sucking aristocrat - and with it, gothic romanticism - to French literature.

And with all the parallels, it is also important to remember how differently Leroux and Stoker treat similar themes. There may be parallels between Dracula and Erik, but they are fundamentally different characters and serve different purposes within their respective narratives.

Illustration by André Castaigne, 1911

Phantom of the Opera and Carnival - some thoughts

While ALW’s Masquerade lyrics imply that the masked ball happens at New Year’s – toasting to a prosperous year and a new chandelier – in Leroux’s novel the masked ball happens sometime before Shrovetide/avant les jours gras. Shrovetide is an archaic English way of saying Carnival. While Masquerade is a great song, ALW’s decision to move the date of the masked ball means that it loses some of the symbolism and disconnects the story from the greater tradition of Carnival. I have some thoughts about this. It’s a little long, apologies.

Weiterlesen

Excellent analysis of the carnival symbolism of the masked ball! Additionally, Carnival imagery is often dominated by the grotesque - that which is distorted or deformed in some way. It‘s a momentary suspension and reversion of the common order of things - and in certain ways, our three main characters all present a challenge to the existing order. Setting the masked ball during Carnival is another great example of how rich the subtext of Leroux’s novel is.