A review, a dress, and a mask
First off, I saw PotO in Denver this past Tuesday, and enjoyed myself immensely. For those interested in my (long and rambling) review: http://www.livejournal.com/community/notmyphantom/71558.html
Second, photos of my Christine gown (such as it is) can be found here: http://photobucket.com/albums/c260/ladycdaae/ I know I'm not the best seamstress in the world, but I was fairly happy with the results.
Third, and last: The latest update, which includes the unmasking and a rough spoken-dialogue equivalent of "Magical Lasso." Enjoy!
EXT-OPERA STAIRS-MORNING
Mme. Giry makes her way up the stairs to the main doors.
RAOUL (O.S.)
Madame, a word-
She turns to see Raoul approaching her. His eyes are troubled; it’s clear he has had an uneasy night.
RAOUL
You delivered my message to Mlle. Daaé?
MME. GIRY
(eyes narrowing)
Yes…what of it?
RAOUL
Did you see her again after you had done so?
MME. GIRY
(quite truthful)
No, monsieur…I did not see her again last night.
RAOUL
Do you know where she may have gone, then?
(stopping her as she turns to go)
Madame, I beg you-
MME. GIRY
Monsieur le Vicomte, a word of advice: forget Christine Daaé. It is better that way.
She starts back up the stairs. Raoul calls after her angrily.
RAOUL
Better for whom?
MME. GIRY
(quietly, darkly)
For everyone.
She enters the building, leaving Raoul perplexed.
INT-PHANTOM’S LAIR-CHRISTINE’S ROOM-MORNING
Christine is sleeping peacefully. Next to her bed on a nightstand, there is a new addition to the room-the music box from the prologue. After a moment it starts to play, and its sweet melody awakens Christine. She sits up in the bed and reaches out to touch the music box, an uneasy expression crossing her face.
CHRISTINE
(to herself)
I remember
There was mist…
Swirling mist
Upon a vast, glassy lake…
She climbs out of the bed and begins to examine her surroundings. Going to the vanity she sees a rich jewelry box, and jars of cosmetics and perfume. All have been engraved with her initials.
CHRISTINE (Con’t)
There were candles
All around,
And on the lake
There was a boat…
And in the boat,
There was a man…
She starts for a moment as she passes the mirror, but there is only her reflection, nothing more. She hesitates at the wardrobe, then opens it-inside is a magnificent array of dresses. She removes one of the simpler ones, both flattered and disturbed. Dare she accept this gift? A glance at her dressing gown, hardly proper attire and dirty and bedraggled from the events of the previous evening, makes up her mind.
A SHORT WHILE LATER
Christine, now wearing the dress she selected, is seated on the chaise lounge. She is a vision in this new finery, but her air is still pensive and troubled. Suddenly she is startled by music coming from the next room-a pipe organ being played with fierce intensity. Curiosity overcoming fear, she goes into the hall.
HALL
The Phantom, wearing a robe of vaguely Oriental design, is seated at the organ, playing and composing furiously, entirely absorbed-an artist in the throes of creative fervor. He pauses in his playing only to notate his work. Christine is awestruck at this display, and draws closer to the Phantom, unnoticed by him.
CHRISTINE (V/O)
Who was that shape
In the shadows?
Whose is the face
In the mask?
Now directly behind the Phantom, she reaches out…and pulls back suddenly as he shifts in his seat, nearly catching her. Determined, she tries again…and this time, is successful in tearing the mask from his face. We get a very brief glimpse of ruined flesh before the Phantom whirls to face Christine, causing her to cry out in shock and horror. (NOTE: in the following sequence, the camera angles and lighting are such that we never clearly see the right half of the Phantom’s face.)
PHANTOM
Damn you!
He pursues Christine as she runs from him, knocking furnishings aside in his immense fury.
PHANTOM (Con’t)
You little prying Pandora!
You little demon-
He catches Christine, gripping her wrists, forcing her to face him.
PHANTOM (Con’t)
Is this what you wanted to see?
He releases his grip, and Christine crumples to the floor in terror, curling up as if to shield herself as the Phantom rages over her.
PHANTOM (Con’t)
Curse you!
You little lying Delilah!
You little viper-
Now you cannot ever be free!
Damn you!
Curse you…
His anger spent, he sinks to the ground as well, a short distance from Christine. For a moment all is silent, save the faint sound of Christine’s sobs. The Phantom is in equal anguish, and he gazes at Christine, bitter and remorseful.
PHANTOM
Stranger than you dreamt it-
Can you even dare to look
Or bear to think of me?
This loathsome gargoyle
Who burns in Hell, but secretly
Yearns for Heaven
Secretly, secretly,
But, Christine…
At the sound of her name, Christine trembles, not entirely from fear. The Phantom gradually gropes his way across the floor to her.
PHANTOM (Con’t)
Fear can turn to love,
You’ll learn to see, to find
The man behind the monster,
This repulsive carcass
Who seems a beast, but secretly
Dreams of beauty,
Secretly, secretly…
He reaches out to Christine; but she draws back slightly. The Phantom bows his head in utter shame and despair.
PHANTOM
Oh, Christine…
His agony is heartbreaking, and Christine cannot help but feel for him. Sorrow and empathy fill her face as she holds out the mask to him, looking him full in the face. The Phantom takes the mask, brushing Christine’s fingers slightly, and puts it back on. An electric moment as they draw closer; the Phantom reaches out to touch Christine’s cheek, and this time she does not pull away…
But the Phantom does. Instead of caressing Christine’s face, he takes her hand, helping her to her feet.
PHANTOM
Come, we must return;
Those two fools
Who run my theater
Will be missing you!
We catch a brief glimpse of Christine’s confused, almost disappointed expression before he pulls her from the frame.
INT-PROP ROOM-DAY
A flutter of dark fabric crosses the screen; it whips away to reveal Buquet, wearing a discarded bit of curtain as a cloak, swooping around and making faces at his audience-a group of ballet girls, lounging on an array of old properties and stage furniture, who shriek delightedly at this display, calling out, “The Phantom, the Phantom!” etc. Buquet pulls something from his cloak: a length of rope, tied into a noose. The girls shudder and go quiet as he speaks, low and dramatic, a born storyteller.
BUQUET
The Punjab lasso. The Ghost’s weapon, an assassin’s weapon…swift, silent, deadly. Against it there is no protection, no defense….
The ballet girls listen enraptured, giddy with fear and excitement.
BUQUET
Always be on your guard…it is the only way to be safe. The only way to keep the Ghost…from catching you!
He flings the rope about the waist of one of the dancers, drawing her close in a lascivious embrace. The girl cries out, at first in delight, but she quickly tires of the game and begs to be released. But Buquet only draws her closer, nuzzling at her neck…
MME. GIRY (O.S.)
Girls!
Mme. Giry is revealed standing in the doorway, her face thunderous. Buquet guiltily releases his captive, who runs for the door along with all her companions, Mme. Giry’s rebukes pursuing them out.
MME. GIRY (Con’t)
To the studio, immediately! And anyone caught shirking will be scrubbing floors for a month, is that understood?
Buquet also makes to leave the room, but she blocks his path, looking down on him with cold contempt.
MME. GIRY (Con’t)
You would do well to hold your tongue, Joseph Buquet.
She sweeps out. Buquet glares after her, angry and humiliated.
INT-FLY LOFT-A SHORT WHILE LATER
Buquet, still seething from Mme. Giry’s rebuke, is tightening one of the winches. He pauses and hears voices, a man’s and a woman’s, in unintelligible conversation. Curious, he lays down flat on the floor of the loft and peers over the edge to the stage.
BACKSTAGE
From his POV, we can see the distinct figures of the Phantom and Mme. Giry, speaking with an ease that suggests this sort of meeting is familiar to both. Standing slightly apart from them, watching with apprehension, is Christine. The Phantom hands Mme. Giry a note, which she tucks away very quickly, then turns and beckons Christine forward.
PHANTOM
Make sure she gets home safely.
MME. GIRY.
You may depend on me, monsieur.
PHANTOM
I know.
He glances at Christine, an uneasy moment between the two of them. Then he turns and vanishes into the shadows, as Mme. Giry gently wraps and arm around Christine’s shoulders.
FLY-LOFT
Buquet’s eyes narrow, then he smiles speculatively. Perhaps there is an opportunity to benefit from what he’s seen…
Second, photos of my Christine gown (such as it is) can be found here: http://photobucket.com/albums/c260/ladycdaae/ I know I'm not the best seamstress in the world, but I was fairly happy with the results.
Third, and last: The latest update, which includes the unmasking and a rough spoken-dialogue equivalent of "Magical Lasso." Enjoy!
EXT-OPERA STAIRS-MORNING
Mme. Giry makes her way up the stairs to the main doors.
RAOUL (O.S.)
Madame, a word-
She turns to see Raoul approaching her. His eyes are troubled; it’s clear he has had an uneasy night.
RAOUL
You delivered my message to Mlle. Daaé?
MME. GIRY
(eyes narrowing)
Yes…what of it?
RAOUL
Did you see her again after you had done so?
MME. GIRY
(quite truthful)
No, monsieur…I did not see her again last night.
RAOUL
Do you know where she may have gone, then?
(stopping her as she turns to go)
Madame, I beg you-
MME. GIRY
Monsieur le Vicomte, a word of advice: forget Christine Daaé. It is better that way.
She starts back up the stairs. Raoul calls after her angrily.
RAOUL
Better for whom?
MME. GIRY
(quietly, darkly)
For everyone.
She enters the building, leaving Raoul perplexed.
INT-PHANTOM’S LAIR-CHRISTINE’S ROOM-MORNING
Christine is sleeping peacefully. Next to her bed on a nightstand, there is a new addition to the room-the music box from the prologue. After a moment it starts to play, and its sweet melody awakens Christine. She sits up in the bed and reaches out to touch the music box, an uneasy expression crossing her face.
CHRISTINE
(to herself)
I remember
There was mist…
Swirling mist
Upon a vast, glassy lake…
She climbs out of the bed and begins to examine her surroundings. Going to the vanity she sees a rich jewelry box, and jars of cosmetics and perfume. All have been engraved with her initials.
CHRISTINE (Con’t)
There were candles
All around,
And on the lake
There was a boat…
And in the boat,
There was a man…
She starts for a moment as she passes the mirror, but there is only her reflection, nothing more. She hesitates at the wardrobe, then opens it-inside is a magnificent array of dresses. She removes one of the simpler ones, both flattered and disturbed. Dare she accept this gift? A glance at her dressing gown, hardly proper attire and dirty and bedraggled from the events of the previous evening, makes up her mind.
A SHORT WHILE LATER
Christine, now wearing the dress she selected, is seated on the chaise lounge. She is a vision in this new finery, but her air is still pensive and troubled. Suddenly she is startled by music coming from the next room-a pipe organ being played with fierce intensity. Curiosity overcoming fear, she goes into the hall.
HALL
The Phantom, wearing a robe of vaguely Oriental design, is seated at the organ, playing and composing furiously, entirely absorbed-an artist in the throes of creative fervor. He pauses in his playing only to notate his work. Christine is awestruck at this display, and draws closer to the Phantom, unnoticed by him.
CHRISTINE (V/O)
Who was that shape
In the shadows?
Whose is the face
In the mask?
Now directly behind the Phantom, she reaches out…and pulls back suddenly as he shifts in his seat, nearly catching her. Determined, she tries again…and this time, is successful in tearing the mask from his face. We get a very brief glimpse of ruined flesh before the Phantom whirls to face Christine, causing her to cry out in shock and horror. (NOTE: in the following sequence, the camera angles and lighting are such that we never clearly see the right half of the Phantom’s face.)
PHANTOM
Damn you!
He pursues Christine as she runs from him, knocking furnishings aside in his immense fury.
PHANTOM (Con’t)
You little prying Pandora!
You little demon-
He catches Christine, gripping her wrists, forcing her to face him.
PHANTOM (Con’t)
Is this what you wanted to see?
He releases his grip, and Christine crumples to the floor in terror, curling up as if to shield herself as the Phantom rages over her.
PHANTOM (Con’t)
Curse you!
You little lying Delilah!
You little viper-
Now you cannot ever be free!
Damn you!
Curse you…
His anger spent, he sinks to the ground as well, a short distance from Christine. For a moment all is silent, save the faint sound of Christine’s sobs. The Phantom is in equal anguish, and he gazes at Christine, bitter and remorseful.
PHANTOM
Stranger than you dreamt it-
Can you even dare to look
Or bear to think of me?
This loathsome gargoyle
Who burns in Hell, but secretly
Yearns for Heaven
Secretly, secretly,
But, Christine…
At the sound of her name, Christine trembles, not entirely from fear. The Phantom gradually gropes his way across the floor to her.
PHANTOM (Con’t)
Fear can turn to love,
You’ll learn to see, to find
The man behind the monster,
This repulsive carcass
Who seems a beast, but secretly
Dreams of beauty,
Secretly, secretly…
He reaches out to Christine; but she draws back slightly. The Phantom bows his head in utter shame and despair.
PHANTOM
Oh, Christine…
His agony is heartbreaking, and Christine cannot help but feel for him. Sorrow and empathy fill her face as she holds out the mask to him, looking him full in the face. The Phantom takes the mask, brushing Christine’s fingers slightly, and puts it back on. An electric moment as they draw closer; the Phantom reaches out to touch Christine’s cheek, and this time she does not pull away…
But the Phantom does. Instead of caressing Christine’s face, he takes her hand, helping her to her feet.
PHANTOM
Come, we must return;
Those two fools
Who run my theater
Will be missing you!
We catch a brief glimpse of Christine’s confused, almost disappointed expression before he pulls her from the frame.
INT-PROP ROOM-DAY
A flutter of dark fabric crosses the screen; it whips away to reveal Buquet, wearing a discarded bit of curtain as a cloak, swooping around and making faces at his audience-a group of ballet girls, lounging on an array of old properties and stage furniture, who shriek delightedly at this display, calling out, “The Phantom, the Phantom!” etc. Buquet pulls something from his cloak: a length of rope, tied into a noose. The girls shudder and go quiet as he speaks, low and dramatic, a born storyteller.
BUQUET
The Punjab lasso. The Ghost’s weapon, an assassin’s weapon…swift, silent, deadly. Against it there is no protection, no defense….
The ballet girls listen enraptured, giddy with fear and excitement.
BUQUET
Always be on your guard…it is the only way to be safe. The only way to keep the Ghost…from catching you!
He flings the rope about the waist of one of the dancers, drawing her close in a lascivious embrace. The girl cries out, at first in delight, but she quickly tires of the game and begs to be released. But Buquet only draws her closer, nuzzling at her neck…
MME. GIRY (O.S.)
Girls!
Mme. Giry is revealed standing in the doorway, her face thunderous. Buquet guiltily releases his captive, who runs for the door along with all her companions, Mme. Giry’s rebukes pursuing them out.
MME. GIRY (Con’t)
To the studio, immediately! And anyone caught shirking will be scrubbing floors for a month, is that understood?
Buquet also makes to leave the room, but she blocks his path, looking down on him with cold contempt.
MME. GIRY (Con’t)
You would do well to hold your tongue, Joseph Buquet.
She sweeps out. Buquet glares after her, angry and humiliated.
INT-FLY LOFT-A SHORT WHILE LATER
Buquet, still seething from Mme. Giry’s rebuke, is tightening one of the winches. He pauses and hears voices, a man’s and a woman’s, in unintelligible conversation. Curious, he lays down flat on the floor of the loft and peers over the edge to the stage.
BACKSTAGE
From his POV, we can see the distinct figures of the Phantom and Mme. Giry, speaking with an ease that suggests this sort of meeting is familiar to both. Standing slightly apart from them, watching with apprehension, is Christine. The Phantom hands Mme. Giry a note, which she tucks away very quickly, then turns and beckons Christine forward.
PHANTOM
Make sure she gets home safely.
MME. GIRY.
You may depend on me, monsieur.
PHANTOM
I know.
He glances at Christine, an uneasy moment between the two of them. Then he turns and vanishes into the shadows, as Mme. Giry gently wraps and arm around Christine’s shoulders.
FLY-LOFT
Buquet’s eyes narrow, then he smiles speculatively. Perhaps there is an opportunity to benefit from what he’s seen…