My Enigmatic Love Affair with The Phantom of The Opera: From Broadway to Fantasia

Welcome to my 3D review of The Phantom of The Opera!

It’s 3D not because you have to wear funny glasses to read it (but go ahead and put them on if you wish. I promise not to laugh. Too much. )

It’s 3D because I will be taking into 3 different dimensions:
• The Phantom of The Opera, the film, show, and work of art
• The BDSM undertones of the story (and there are many)
• My own personal connection to The Phantom,
which has spanned over a decade.

Time:
Modern Day, a few days back, Montreal.

The scene was the magnificent setting of Place des Arts. In a special partnership between The Fantasia International Film Festival & the Cinémathèque québecoise, a special pristine print of Rupert Julian’s The Phantom of the Opera (1925/29), was shown & accompanied by a 30 person orchestra directed by Gabriel Thibaudeau. Gabriel Thibaudeau, composer, conductor, and pianist for the Cinémathèque québécoise, created a glorious, thunderously compelling musical accompaniment to this beautiful classic silent film.

I had won two tickets to see this special version of The Phantom of The Opera and I was accompanied by my friend, the lovely LustyLuscious. I was very happy to have such good company for this Fantasia event and happy to have a fellow kinkster share my Phantom experience, for the first time. Particularly since my own journey with The Phantom over the years has been a solitary one. More about that later.

The fantastic music Thibaudeau created turned this cinematic event into an unforgettable night. The crowd jumped to their feet in unending applause for his wonderful achievement, and I was among the packed crowd of thrilled Fantasia movie goers. He captured the signature organ accent for the movie, along with a host of perfectly suited musical accents to accentuate the silent film’s dramatic moments.

As for the film itself, the highlight of the film was the creative genius of Lon Chaney’s acting. Yes, he did not disappoint with one of his very original & creative monstrous physical disguises as The Phantom, but his acting also featured such a heart-breaking humanity from a monster who loved and craved love so very much.

Mary Philbin, played a wonderfully over the top portrayal of The Phantom’s muse, Christine Daae. To my eyes, she physically resembled Celine Dion a little, and I could picture her thumping her chest in true Celine fashion as well. lol

Like most classic silent films, the film had many comic highlights. Such as the lurking, looming fez-wearing Inspector Ledoux, of the Paris Secret Police. Aren’t the Secret Police supposed to be, well secret and hide in the shadows? If you want to blend into the shadows, maybe you shouldn’t wear a fez so that you stick out from the crowd.

And a particularly hilarious moment was when Ledoux led Christine’s lover, the Vicomte de Chagny into the secret tunnels of the opera house, to save Christine from the Phantom’s grasp. Ledoux told Chagny they must hold a hand above their heads to ward against the Phantom’s noose, as he was wont to strangle those who opposed him. So the two of them crept along with a hand above their heads, which looked so much like the classic Bollywood “screwing in the lighbulb” move. Rather appropriate since The Phantom’s rope strangling was declared to be Indian. “Beware The Punjab Lasso!” we were told. I got a furious attack of the giggles suddenly, when I picture the silent film turning into a Bollywood spectacle all of a sudden. Too funny.

Altogether, this cinematic Phantom event was a triumphant success, for the whole Fantasia crowd, and for me, on a personal level.

For me, this was the second time I saw The Phantom immortalized on the big screen.

Fact is, I am quite a Phantom fan, and I have followed The Phantom of The Opera for a long, long time.

Time:
Flash-back to the end of 1997, Montreal.

After years of BDSM fantasizing, in 1997 I finally found someone to play with in real-time and real life. My Master. My very own Phantom.

One day, I was told to find and study the soundtrack to Webber’s Phantom of The Opera. Just the music. I was told to pay particular attention to the words of the songs, and the message of the music itself, and in particular told to study The Music of the Night. This soundtrack to the Broadway version was then used in my training and my lessons, as a submissive. I became my Master’s muse and his discovery. He discovered that I had a talent, not for singing like, Christine Daae, but for writing. My Master was the one who first encouraged me to write in the BDSM vein. For him, I composed stories and poetry. And I kept a journal for my journey with him, for his amusement and entertainment. My very first BDSM blog!

When I went to choose a soundtrack to Webber’s Phantom of The Opera to use, I did some research before I chose a version. I picked the version that was most acclaimed by critics, and what was the best one to my ear. It featured Michael Crawford and a very young Sarah Brightman. To my ear, Michael Crawford’s rendition of The Phantom was the most talented. His voice, when speaking or singing as The Phantom, was a gloriously full-bodied elegant and seductive one. I loved listening to him.


And as for Sarah Brightman, well…I felt a connection to her in so many ways. First of all, she was Andrew Lloyd Webber’s muse and discovery. He created The Phantom as a vehicle to feature her vocal talent. She was a young ingénue, who played a young ingénue. You can see so many parallels in the relationship between Andrew Lloyd Webber & Sarah Brightman, and The Phantom with Christine Daae.

And my own relationship with my Master mirrored that Creator/muse relationship pattern as well.


Time:
Flash-forward to some time after, the venue is New York and Broadway.

One day, I found myself in a weekend away in New York, with friends. Webber’s Phantom of The Opera was at the end of its run and I was bound & determined to see this story live, that had meant so much to me on my BDSM journey.

One of my friends & I had the incredible luck to nab 2 most excellent and reasonably priced tickets to this immortal Broadway classic. The only problem was that the seats were miles apart, with the whole theatre between us. But we agreed and went to the show.

In a sea of strangers in New York, I was bowled over by the gorgeous storm of The Phantom brought to life on the Broadway stage. And as I watched, I was bowled over by an unexpected storm of emotions that the show brought out of me. I sat there with tears tracking down my face as I thought of my own Phantom and wished with all my heart I could share this moment with him. I was incredibly happy and sad at the same time. It was an unforgettable moment in my life and BDSM journey.


Time:
Flash-forward to 2004, Montreal.

Time for me to finally see The Phantom on the big screen. I eagerly attended a showing of The Phantom of The Opera featuring the talents of Gerard Butler. The critics were not kind. They blasted Butler for his less than stellar singing talent. But I thought that was highly unfair. Of course one knew he was no Michael Crawford. But he did a very good job of acting as The Phantom, illustrating the Phantom’s heartbreak quite well. And well the added bonus was that Gerard Butler is a gorgeous man. So he played quite a Sexy Beast, I thought. I was content with my Phantom film fix.

The Phantom & The BDSM

Phantom of The Opera is indeed a twist on the classic Beauty and The Beast scenario. Alas, the beauty does not choose beast in the end, but chooses her other lover. Of course I always wished the beauty would choose the poor, yearning beast.

You can see so many BDSM elements in the story line. We have the Master and the one who serves his will. The Phantom is the Master of his domain, the Paris Opera House. Those who oppose him are swiftly punished. We even have dungeons at the bottom of the Opera House, and a torture room, in the room of mirrors that we see in the Lon Chaney silent film version. I couldn’t help but notice all the rope lying around in this movie version as well. And there are lots & lots of role-playing in the story, since the story features actors and acting of roles.

For myself, there is even an Angel in the story. The Angel of Music. See Andrew Lloyd Webber’s version. And my Master is the first one to call me Angel. You can read about the roots of my name here.

As for my Master being my Phantom. Ah well. You will find very true traces of my Master in this blog. So he is a Phantom here as well, of sorts.


And all that is about why I love and will always love The Phantom of The Opera.

Kinky kisses,
Angel :)

owned

you dream of it
of being owned
possessed
the devastating totality of it
the complete craving to give all of yourself

sometimes at night
your mind body and soul stir restlessly
with this need to be owned
you wonder and hope it can be true
beyond your deepest darkest roughest most sublime fantasies

some days
you want to be owned so much
You cry with the unfulfilled need that threatens to swamp
all of your feelings thoughts and sensations

oh you so want it to be true
oh you so want it to come true

you want that chance to fly
with ultimate trust
to be cradled in the Other’s arms
knowing they will
always be there to catch you
always be there to push you
always be there to nurture you
always be there to appreciate your gift

you crave
The One
The Master The Mistress
The Owner

who will make you shine
who will respect you and your gift
who will bring you to heights
you never dreamed possible

you dream of being owned
by
Me.

***

bittersweet

she was sweet and silky
he was angry heat

for one moment
they slammed together

he drank from her lips
until she desperately plunged up for air

but she wanted more
and she went back for more

she liked it
when he hurt her
he gave her that dizzy taste
of that good good deep pain
made her body curve up
in one taut bow
while he pushed her and pushed and pushed her
and finally
he let her have her release
and she floated away
up away from him
while still in his arms

he pulled her hair back tight
away from her face
as he stared down into her eyes
his unreadable eyes
his silent mouth
as tears tracked their way
down her face
and she sobbed with her endless need
she couldn’t help it
she found herself washed away in a river of desire and pain
until the waters mixed so much she didn’t know
which was the pain and which was the desire any more
but at that point
she didn’t care any more
she just wanted it
she just needed it
she just wanted more of that heady fix

he made her beg
again and again and again
and still he wasn’t satisfied
his will was relentless
crushing her body crushing her spirit
shaping her into something brand new
with his cruel knowing hands
he knew what she really wanted
and he gave it to her
even when she protested it was too much
she couldn’t take feeling so much
she couldn’t take shaking so much with her need

through the night they continued
until they were drenched with sweat and boneless

finally he slapped her
as she came
and then
he smiled
as he whispered
my love my love my love
and finally
let himself go
as well.

***

*This poem was inspired by Eminem - Love The Way You Lie ft. Rihanna

Enigmatically Luscious: e[lust] #28

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #29 (Which will be in September, taking a short summer break)? Start with the rules and subscribe to the RSS feed and Twitter for updates and submission reminders.

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

What makes me a woman? - It’s a stumper, this question. There must be something that makes me a woman. Something more than how I am perceived by others as I walk down the street. But what is the answer?

Baggage: An Inventory - Everyone brings bags with them. My goal is to carry my own bags. I’ll let people help me shed them, but I will never let them carry them. Those bags are my own to, well, own.

There's pain and then there's pain (and then there's pain) -Part of what I crave in the second type of pain is the selfish sadism of the partner who continues despite my pleas. He does it because it arouses him, and he does it because I'll endure it for him.

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

What Is Gender? - Playing with dolls and preferring the color pink doesn’t make you a girl anymore than chewing on a bone makes you my dog.

~ e[lust] Editress: Dangerous Lilly ~

Sex Toys: Single or Partnered, there is no shame in owning them - There’s no fucking shame in owning your sexuality, in taking control of your own damn orgasm. Can you PREFER human contact and partnered sex to sex toys? Sure. You can prefer whatever the fuck you want. But don’t insinuate to me that owning a lot of sex toys is somehow bad or shameful.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable ~after this point~. Thank you, and enjoy!

New Blogger Education Posts

Blog Design 101: Balancing Personal Style vs Readability

A Cautionary Word on Joining Affiliate Programs

Kink & Fetish

BDSM Day, an international recognition

BDSM Advice Series: Bondage Tape

Being a Brat Can Hurt

Caning, energy and romance

Screw roses! I enjoy playing with Thorns...

Working Girl

Erotic Writing

A Trip to the Toy Store

Can I get into your knickers now?

Coffee Break

early afternoon

Elevator Shaft

Fogged-up Windows

Fucking Eli

FWB

I'll see you tonight...

One on One

Open By Night

Rock Out With My Cock Out

Renewed Interest

Twenty/Fifty-Three

that little fucking game changer [part I]

the weekend away - Sunday

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Death By Bondage

Hypocrite, PA-Rant!

kink labels....is there a place for me? (or someday my kink will come)

Things I Looove Thursday

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Ask PolyAnna: Multiple partners?? Safer sex??

Are My Nipples Getting The Correct Signals?

Evolution

More Pussy Pride - The Perfect Vagina

My Take On Masculinity

Rambling Harlot: On Internet Dating and Shyness

Sex and Catholic Schools

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slick

slick flesh
the heavy heat
turned them
slippery with need

they licked
the salt
off each other’s bodies
chased by a body shot
of tequila
or two

it was
thirty two freaking degrees
celsius
hotter than hell
as they explored
the musky swamp
of their desires

hellish pain
hellish pleasure
they tasted it all
pushing past
the sweat the salt
playing in slow motion
leaving a trail of toys
scattered here and there
a golden peacock feather
a velvety black flogger
and a few things
that pinched and cut

until the musky heat
overcame them
and they headed
in search of coolness

the blessed cold shock
of the shower
drenched them
revived them in cool relief

one voice said
is this what you want
this
and this
and this

each word punctuated
by the slap of flesh
rhythmic thuds
as one hand
braced against
the wet gleaming tiles
and one hand
snarled inside
a wet mane of hair
pulled tight

and one voice said
more
more
more

eventually
they emerged
naked wet flesh
still dripping

they made it to the bed
where they collapsed
limbs carelessly entwined
around each other
drowsing in the heat
with an occasional
pinch of a nipple
and lazy spank
of an already rosy cheek

the humid mugginess
in the air
kissed them to sleep
where they dreamed
their bodies still
affectionally wrapped
around each other

they fell asleep,
still slick.

***

the devil you know

take me to heaven
take me to hell
it doesn’t matter where

you turn my bones
to water
you turn my flesh
to mud

i want to get
dirty with you
bring me down down down
deep
down to my knees
bring me up up up
to that
floating cloud
of your high

twist me turn me
it’s all
junk and treasure
the merry go round
of your will
spins me out
spins me where
you care to go

oh you shine
wicked and wet
you draw the moonlight
into the dark heart
of your midnight soul

*sympathy for the devil
you laugh
as the music plays
you just know
the slip and slide
of your magic hands
will get you in
anywhere

crazy good
crazy bad
it don’t make a difference
you and your
addictive touch
oh don’t do that
or that
or that
too late
you’re like a
madness in the blood
you percolate
all my senses

you don’t rhyme
you don’t reason
you don’t give a damn
you just shrug
with a wink
slip back into
the night

leaving that fleeting taste
of heaven
and hell
behind

crazy fool
come back

it’s late
it’s too late

you go back
to the shadows
you came from.

***

* Sympathy For The Devil, by The Rolling Stones

the pain of my writing (let it bleed)

bleed
baby, bleed
he said

he told me once
or a million times
(half jokingly, half not)
that i should suffer
all the time
because of the
quality of my writing
when i was
in pain

i looked at him
the last time
he said that to me
and as I looked at him
i found myself
*staring into an Abyss
and the Abyss
stared back at me

ever so quietly
and gently
i replied:
No.

***

* “When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at you.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche