A little TOO sexy "Phantom"

After seeing "Phantom of the Opera" on screen, it’s hard to believe it was ever done well on stage. The opulent, over-the-top theatrics of Andrew Lloyd Webber's shopera just deserves surround sound, galloping horses and a gorgeous, sweeping set.

From the very first note of the sweet-ass organ on the main theme, you know you're in for a ride of some sort, good or otherwise.

I can safely say the neo-classic tale of opera novice Christine and her Phantom is played out even creepier here than ever before. For those that don't know: Christine is an orphan who lives in the opera house. For years, she has been taught to sing by the opera's "ghost," The Phantom, who Christine thinks is the ghost of her father guiding her. In actuality, the Phantom is a deformed old loony with a mad jones for her in a not-fatherly kind of way. But, Christine's Daddy issues lead her to be torn between said Phantom and real life with someone her own age.

Now that we're caught up, I'll tell you that none of that matters, because the stylings of Joel Schumacher and Webber himself are definitely the "star" of the show...and you shouldn't think of that as a bad thing. The Paris Opera House is a funhouse of plush carpets, red roses, Tiffany lamps, velvet and gold. Down in the Phantom's lair, it's all Elvira-esque gargoyles, cobwebs, a creepy River Styx and black stallion. Ginormous masquerade balls, giant diamond rings, uber-creepy cemeteries and over-the-top costumes? Sounds like theater to me.

Now I know my professional equivalents will harp on about how Andrew Lloyd Webber ruined the stage or wrote crappy lyrics, but let's face it: 1. I'm no theater critic and 2. All musicals have crappy lyrics. They have to, they rhyme. and 3. Just try getting some of these songs out of your head.

While the theme song is soooo much better without lyrics (the PHAN-tom of the Opera is here...inside my mind! *gag*), the movie version's of "All I Ask of You" and "Music of the Night" are good enough to stick in your head in a pleasant fashion, in no small part due to Emmy Rossum and Patrick Wilson as young lovers Christine and Raoul.

Rossum (otherwise known as "that girl from The Day After Tomorrow") has one helluva voice and is just so dewy-eyed and youthful kind of gorgeous that you almost feel dirty watching her cavort around in Webber's fetish dreams. That's right: This Phantom, it should be noted, has a healthy dose of serious sex appeal. From the boobs practically popping out of corsets to lots of lustful daddy-spank-me panting, in at least three separate scenes I thought for certain it was going to veer into R territory (sadly, it didn't). But the first time Christine is taken by the Phantom, her see-through lace peignoir, white corset and white thigh-highs in the big gold bed lead me to believe that at any moment, it was going to devolve into hardcore porn (again, sadly, it didn't).

All in all, I couldn’t believe my parents let me see the show as a little girl. Then again, in the show, Christine wasn't so....so....so...yummy. I mean, I'm a heterosexual female and I was getting a little uncomfortable in my seat. But I digress.

Despite the perfect casting of Christine and Raoul (and Minnie Driver is a real scene-stealer as the diva Carlotta), the most important part of this Phantom is horribly, horribly miscast. As you'd predict, the Phantom's a pretty darn important character and Gerard Butler was the worst idea ever.

The reason this play is good is because even though the Phantom is a murderer and kidnapper, he's a misshapen, ugly older fellow who you just can’t help but pity for his unrequited love for Christine. In this case, the Phantom is too young and attractive (the mask looks more like an accessory) to be taken as anything but a sex offender. Instead of a sad old man in love with a young girl, he's a controlling playboy rapist. It's downright unsettling to have him kidnap young Christine...cause you can't help but envision him as a GHB-toting frat boy. Ewwwwww.

Despite the god-awful Phantom, the movie is something you just have to see to believe. From the odd placement of blatant lust to the starry-eyed pomp of the set, I guarantee even a non-theater geek will appreciate the film as the spectacle it is. Honestly, by the time you walk out, you'll forget it was even a musical. You'll just be asking your friends, "Whoa, how old is that Rossum girl?" (18...barely legal)