Phantoms
In my town, the Halloween spirit begins in earnest in September. I don’t mean the commercial outlets eager to sell costumes and candy. It’s the folks who live here—who adorn their front yards with skeletons, devils, and vampires taller than houses.
And earlier this month, befitting the season, I got to see a scary 100-year-old silent film in a beautifully restored 100-year-old theater, accompanied by a man playing a 100-year-old pipe organ, likewise restored. The organ, sporting three keyboards, was played by a Chicago man named Dennis Scott, whose passion (and livelihood) is providing accompaniment for silent movies. After a robust round of applause, Mr. Scott took his seat at the organ, and seconds later, the organ and organist slowly descended into the orchestra pit, out of view. The music began—and continued nonstop for nearly two hours.
The house was packed. The movie—Phantom of the Opera, starring Lon Chaney—was positively gripping, with nothing but organ music and the occasional title card to support the story silently acted out by long-gone actors on the bigger-than-life silver screen. Given the sophistication of modern movies, and the proliferation of ways we send videos to each other across the planet, I anticipated this film would be, well… quaint. A respectful nod to the history of motion pictures. But contrary to my expectations, the production had viewers holding their breath, as each scene took us deeper into the soul of the ghoul who trapped the beautiful maiden—lulled into acquiescence by the promise she’d become a world-renowned opera singer.
The maiden’s fiancé, the “good guy” in the story, had earlier inadvertently set the stage for her capture. He’d mistakenly presumed that having performed once on stage, the maiden had accomplished her personal dream and would now give up the opera to be his wife. OMG. What an arrogant ***hole. I was happy when she told him to take a hike.
The Phantom promised the woman she’d become a coveted opera star under his tutelage. But, of course, he hadn’t revealed the entirety of his plan, hence the maiden ultimately needed rescuing.
The audience is meant to feel relieved when the monster is murdered by an angry mob with flaming torches. But for me—gratitude was in short supply.While I’d be grateful to have the lunatic stopped, and the distressed damsel rescued, I’m not in favor of communities of people securing “justice” without the benefit of a fair trial—not to mention I am opposed to the death penalty in any form. Killing people who kill people to show that killing is wrong makes no sense. And the Phantom hadn’t even killed anybody. Yet.
And what about that monster fiancé who expected the woman to give up her aspirations in order to wash his stinky socks?
The movie was meant to be scary. And it is—but perhaps not solely for the reasons intended. A hundred years after its creation, I’m truly distressed that women still find themselves in this boat—thwarted by the people who proclaim to cherish them. And that the death penalty persists in 27 states. And that hateful mobs still sometimes form, intent on killing perceived monsters without benefit of clear evidence.
This century-old film is a reminder to resist these phantoms. On election day, we can vote against mobs. We can think twice about the sanctity of executions. (Recent news from Tennessee gives us plenty of reason to reconsider the death penalty.) And we can make a conscious effort to treat our partners fairly—or gracefully let them go.
Happy Halloween. May the phantoms in your life be the playful kind.