As a little girl, I was fortunate enough to be taken to the theater each time an Andrew Lloyd Webber production rolled into town. My favourite by far was The Phantom of the Opera, based on the gothic novel by Gaston Leroux. (Yes, even as a child, I couldn’t resist the mystery and romance of the genre!)
For those who weren’t as privileged, it is a macabre and tragic love story between the masked Phantom, a disturbed and disfigured man (thus the mask) who lives in the cavernous crypt beneath Paris’ Opera, and the young Christine, an up-and-coming singer. Here’s a snippet of the two from the recent, self-titled movie starring Gerard Butler as yours truly:
Complete with gothic candles, organ music, and dark, winding, castle-like corridors, you can see why I was a little obsessed. I’ve now seen the show in theaters around the world, and learned to play the score end-to-end on the piano.
So of course, when I discovered that Paris’ Palais Garnier was the very opera house that inspired the story, I had to visit the iconic building.
We arrived on our scooter after a leisurely morning in Montmartre – the best way to get around the city! It took us only 15 minutes (although I don’t imagine it would be much more than that on the metro, either).
Named for architect Charles Garnier, the Opera was originally commissioned by Napoleon III during the Second Empire, his initials emblazoned on the facade in tribute (“N” for Napoleon and “E” for Emperor).
But it is inside that the building really dazzles. The Opera’s interior simply oozes luxury. From the red-velvet settees and marble balustrades, to the golden decor and sparkling chandeliers that adorn the Grand Foyer like crystalised stalagtites in a dragon’s den packed with treasure (much akin to Versaille’s Hall of Mirrors), the modern home of Parisian Ballet is indeed true to it’s name, “Garnier Palace“.
But the rest of the theatre, dimly lit and hung with glimmering faux-candles, evokes a certain ambiance that makes me wonder if the Phantom still lurks among these shadowy corridors, behind that sweeping curtain… or beneath our very feet.
For indeed, while the Garnier Palace was not built on top of a subterranean lake (as it was in the original tale), it was in fact built on top of an area with unexpectedly high groundwater, which meant that a series of wells, and a large, concrete cistern had to be constructed in the vaulted, arched caverns of the cellar to prevent the water rising. Perhaps not quite as big as a lake, but it certainly set the perfect scene for a haunting bedtime story.
The chandelier incident was another legend that Leroux borrowed for his book. The accidental death of an audience member from a falling counterweight was the basis of one of the key scenes of the play – one that makes the first few rows of the theater highly sought after.
I distinctly remember my first time. A loud bang was heard. Startled gasps arose from the people on either side of my mother and I, and then suddenly — the chandelier dropped. It swooped upon us like a bird of prey ready for the kill. It swung menacingly close, narrowly missing our cowering heads and crashing catastrophically and very loudly onto the stage. My heart didn’t stop pounding until the lights of intermission illuminated the room and the applause crescendo-ed in relief.
It was marvelous. Each successive time I’ve been back, I wait for that moment and though I know it’s coming, still manage to jump a little in my seat, grinning to myself in satisfaction.
Bidding the Phantom and his Opera au revoir, we stop on the way out to peruse the Bibliothèque-Musée de l’Opéra de Paris (Paris Opera Library-Museum). I purchase a copy of the original French text, Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as a small memoir of our visit, and resolve to become fluent enough to read it one day.
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