'Dream it never ends...': A Celebration of Brian De Palma's Phantom of the Paradise

Last month, Arrow Films were kind (and smart) enough to re-release Brian De Palma's Phantom of the Paradise (1974) on Blu-ray. Upon the film's initial release in cinemas, it did not receive a positive reception. Apart from a bizarre case of international success in Winnipeg, the film was met with empty seats, given untimely runs in theatres and universally panned by critics. Yet over time, this horror phantasy has become, and continues to be, a cult phenomenon. Its latest revival, which also boasts an all-new 72 minute interview with Paul Williams, is further proof of the film's unrelenting fandom - and a dream it never ends... So what is it about this rock n' roll musical that is so lovable and enjoyable? Read on, as Wise Words... will now explore and celebrate one of De Palma's finest.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the tale, Phantom of the Paradise follows Winslow Leach (William Finley) - a music composer/singer who falls fowl to the perils of love, musical integrity and a soul-destroying record contract with selfish and sadistic record producer, Swan (Paul Williams). It begins with Leach performing his version of Faust for Swan, who quickly becomes interested in using it for the opening of his new rock theatre, The Paradise. However, Swan is only interested in the music and wants nothing to do with the ostricised artist. Leach makes several attempts to convince Swan otherwise by breaking into his mansion, where he also meets love-interest Phoenix. However, persuasion avails and Leach is eventually beaten up, framed for drug dealing and sent to prison for life.

Prison doesn't work out too well for our unfortunate protagonist. Not only are his teeth removed for experimental purposes and replaced with metal dentures, but whilst on duty one day, he overhears his version of Faust on the radio, performed by Swan's most popular band, The Juicy Fruits. Outrage ensues and Leach manages to escape the prison, heading straight for Swan's offices. Whilst there, and one or two fisticuffs with the guards later, a freak accident occurs - Leach's face is caught in the record press, drastically disfiguring him and destroying his vocal chords. Full of anger and despair, he takes it upon himself to don a cape and mask and consequently haunt The Paradise as The Phantom.

After attempting to murder The Juicy Fruits, The Phantom comes face to face with Swan, who exploitatively provides him with a nice new voice box and the opportunity to have his music produced properly. Both parties come to an agreement and a blood-signed contract is arranged. However Swan has other plans and hires glam-rocker Beef to perform all songs, contrary to Leach's wishes for Phoenix to take the helm - "My music is for Phoenix. Only she can sing it. Anyone else who tries, dies". Due to an unfortunate accident with a piece of stage lighting, Beef is removed from the equation and Phoenix finally takes centre stage. However unrequited love and the temptation of fame lead to even greater, fatal consequences and a performance crescendo like no other.

Does some of this sound familiar? Well of course, combining a musical with horror and comedy, Phantom of the Paradise is an evident twist on the classic tales of The Phantom of the Opera, Faust and The Picture of Dorian Gray. However, whilst holding extensive similarities to such well-known stories, there is a marked difference in the films aesthetics, resultant from its production within the New Hollywood era.

In the United States of America, 1974 was a time of genre revisionism. Countercultural uprisings in the face of delapidating American ideals marked a dawn of new possibilities - from societal policies to the visual arts. During this time, filmmakers were emerging from college, fresh-faced and internationally educated with bold and bright ideas. These film school graduates (including the likes of Martin Scorsese, Robert Altman, George Lucas and De Palma himself) took over Hollywood with a new, far more personal and ambitious vision - a new perspective on previously established genres and concepts. According to Norman Denzin, ‘any nostalgia for the past lead to its re-enactment or effacement in contemporary culture’, and indeed, as Robert B Ray explored in his book A Certain Tendency of the Hollywood Cinema, 1930 – 1980, films between 1966 and 1980 became ‘overt parodies, “corrected” genre pictures or exaggerated camp versions of Hollywood traditional mythology’. Phantom of the Paradise is no different and it is for this reason that we can celebrate the film - as De Palma's postmodern, parodistic take on a classic Hollywood formula wears a mask of distinct aestheticism.

Postmodernism, that is understood as a loose reference to a body of understandings, is often, but not always, cinematically portrayed through the notion of 'camp'. Often misunderstood in terms of film, camp can generally be described as a certain mode of aestheticism, a way of seeing the world as an aesthetic phenomenon. Susan Sontag explains, 'camp is a vision of the world in terms of its style - but a particular kind of style. It is the love of the exaggerated'. So, how does this come across in Phantom of the Paradise?

Lets begin with the films lighting and set design, wonderfully achieved through the work of Jack Fisk. The colour schemes that outline many sequences cleverly emphasise harsh lighting and a certain brightness against dark and at times, overbearing shadows, arguably resembling the unethical morality underlying a beaming, gluttonous exterior. Similarly, the entrapment and claustrophobic workings of Swan's recording studio are nuanced by the expanses and angular spaces of The Paradise, mirroring Leach's struggle against the tyrannical music industry and a blood-bound contract. Over-powering, angular and voyeuristic - all in all, the surroundings are incredibly expressive, as is the editing that frames it.

Editor Paul Hirsch manages to convey a similar sense of contrast. He knows when to hold back, for instance leaving the camera to slowly glide around Leach as he performs his version of Faust, foregrounding the music in a moment of pure escapism. Yet, he diverts into erratic, fast-paced cuts once Leach descends into mental and physical turmoil. This, in addition to the infamous split-screen technique, exemplifies the bold and exaggerated formatting techniques filmmakers began to use in the New Hollywood era. Even to this day however, the techniques remains just as effective. 

Expression and exaggeration is equally conveyed in Rosanna Norton's costume design. On the one hand we have Beef, whose attire signifies blatant excess through the use of make-up, glitter and skin-tight clothing, embodying a glam rock aesthetic. On the other we have Leach, whose transgression is externally portrayed, from the bland, beige and pastel colours of well-worn cardigans to the phallic eccentricities of black leather and a large, metallic helmet.

Of course, costume can only work to a certain extent and are ultimately reliant on the actors and actresses that wear them - their performances are just as central in forming this camp and exaggerated piece of filmmaking. The Juicy Fruits perfectly parody that 'beach-boys' persona and Paul Williams is deliciously devilish in executing a blackly comic and cool persona. Gerrit Graham wonderfully personifies the notion of camp in his role as Beef, pouting his lips, strutting around on stage and exuding excessive bravado, whilst simultaneously dealing with drug-fuelled paranoia. It is an absolute joy to behold on screen, allowing us to relish in his loud and proud performativity. Not to mention, he makes a fantastic victim in the infamous shower scene, in which Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho is directly referenced, then parodied through the unconventional use of a toilet plunger...

But of course, the main performance that outshines all others, is from the late, great William Finley as Winslow Leach. A man who is un-failingly compelling in his portrayal of both a tortured artist, full of naivety and vulnerability, in addition to the wounded and vengeful Phantom, whose expressive and exaggerated movements are not only fantastic, but cleverly influenced from the German Expressionist movement. His execution of dialogue, presence throughout each scene and tortured transformation arguably make it the most stand-out element of the film.

If all of the above wasn't enough, the film is intrinsically bound by a Paul Williams soundtrack. Combining melody, glam rock and 60s pop, the music simultaneously elicits humour and pathos to match the unfolding events on screen. Words can only do it so much justice, so listen and enjoy the entirety of the soundtrack below...




Overall, whilst the Phantom of the Paradise is by no means an original tale, its production during the New Hollywood era provides it with an aesthetic to be celebrated. That's not to say the plot is not enjoyable, as in its postmodern context, pastiche is generated through filmic references to rekindle a sense of comfort and nostalgia. However, to the tune of clever, innovative music we can witness and celebrate a surface of camp aestheticism, an emphasis on form and performativity that as a result, provides us pundits with one of the best horror phantasies to have ever graced our screens. Its recent resurgence is a wonderful opportunity for us to once again marvel and celebrate it, for Swan was right, we have really been entertained and we never want the show to end... 
Phantom of the Paradise is available to purchase from Arrow Films here.