A Study in Character: The Phantom (AKA: Toxic Love? Um. YEAH.)

I think every fan of fiction has a penchant for embracing darkness. The more stories we experience, the more it settles into an absolute truth within our souls: we need the darkness to better understand the light. But sometimes the best stories are the ones that twist the darkness and the light together to create grey areas that distort the realities we thought we knew. Sometimes, what was seen as “light” turns out to be hiding something sinister; and, sometimes, what the rest of the world sees as “darkness” merely shrouds something beautiful and whole.

But sometimes we’re just kidding ourselves.

Whatever the societal and/or psychological implications of this (that’s another topic on its own), the whole “darkness shrouding beauty” trope seems to take particular aim at women. The most obvious tale that incorporates this is Beauty and the Beast, but we see it almost everywhere else—particularly in fantasies. A female protagonist is approached by an (usually) older, charming, but mysterious man who holds out his hand and leads her to a strange, but magical new world/view*. For some reason, we love it. And that’s why the story keeps rehashing itself time and time again.

But while it’s one thing to occasionally let yourself indulge in a fantasy, it’s quite another to look at this kind of relationship and know without a doubt that this dark attraction—in any way—equates to “love.”

Hence our character pick for today: the Phantom of the Opera.

Originally appearing in the early twentieth century novel by Gaston Leroux, the Phantom is a tragic character who has always been rejected in both life and love due to a physical deformity—yet his obsession with a beautiful young opera singer is enough to finally coax him from out of the darkness beneath the opera house. The story has since been made into several movie adaptations, but undoubtedly its most popular and beloved variation is Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical hit, which first graced the stage in 1986.

(That being said, while the character himself is pretty static across the different variations, our main focus for the purpose of this study will be on the musical version. And, let’s be clear: I LOVE The Phantom of the Opera. But let’s also be realistic, people…)

To start off, the character of the Phantom (or Erik, as he is known in the book) immediately demonstrates a couple of the most obvious relationship no-no’s: stalking, kidnapping, and ignoring consent. From the beginning of the story, we are made aware that Christine, the young opera singer, is being followed by this “voice.” At first she believes it to be the spirit of her father, teaching her to sing from beyond the grave. Yet it is quickly revealed to be the infamous “opera ghost,” who proceeds to enchant her with his voice until, spellbound, she is led by the Phantom down to his lair where he proceeds to get all touchy-feely. When she awakens later, it is clear that the Phantom’s voice has some kind of drug-like effect on her (“My power over you grows stronger yet,”), as she only has vague memories of what passed before (“I remember there was mist…”).

Throughout the story, we can see that the Phantom is clearly possessive of Christine, and he is also jealous to the point that her real love, Raoul, is constantly in mortal danger for winning her affections. If given the chance, the Phantom would kill Raoul (as he has killed others who have opposed him / mocked him in the past).

So, to sum up: we began this whole “love story” by having a homicidal maniac drug a younger woman and carry her down to his secret underground lair where he attempted to seduce her.

Let’s face it, if there wasn’t any magical singing involved, this character would be going to prison.

 

But, true love…right? ‾\_(·ࣿ·)_/‾

 

Of course, we’re only just stating the obvious, here. Unfortunately, some of the more toxic aspects of a bad relationship are things you don’t always comprehend in the moment; the subtler hints at danger are often the ones you see more clearly only through retrospect.

For instance: the Phantom’s possessive attitude toward Christine stems from his desire to be loved—something essential that he has been denied his whole life. And while this aspect of the Phantom’s character causes the audience (and Christine, no less) to pity him instead of hate him, the ways in which he expresses this desire still warrant a ton of therapy—mainly because they all originate from one small (but vastly significant in this context) vice: selfishness.

While on the outside, the Phantom is seemingly expressing undying love for Christine, on the inside he sees her as his saving grace. And while a good partner is someone who makes you want to be a better person, the Phantom merely sees Christine as the quick fix for everything that has been wrong with his life up to this point. In the long run, he is thinking of his own happiness instead of hers (which is also part of why he cares so little for her consent).

On the opposing side, however, Raoul is thinking only of Christine. We can see this vast difference in both men’s characters most prominently through the song, All I Ask of You. Though Raoul originally sings to Christine: “let me lead you from your solitude,” at the end of Past the Point of No Return the Phantom reprises this tune, changing the words to, “Lead me, save me from my solitude,” indicating his true mindset. Whether or not he is in love with Christine is irrelevant at this, and any other point: he is only considering what she can do for him.

In the end, the most caring thing the Phantom does for Christine is let her go, allowing her to be with the man she truly loves.

However, they still had to go through hell and back, first.

From a literary standpoint, the Phantom truly is a tragic figure, who is strangely beautiful and appealing, even in his despair. But as captivated as we may be by his voice, it is only by allowing Christine to go free—by giving her the choice to not be with him at all—that the Phantom rids himself of his true ugliness.

And so, as we draw nearer to Valentine’s Day—a day for celebrating love in all its forms—it is important to remember that it’s okay to allow yourself to be enchanted by the music, and it’s okay to be swept away by the charm. You can even let yourself be attracted to the mystery. But once we wake up in the real world, let’s try to remember that, though it might not seem as glamorous or magical as the dream, true, realistic love comes from those who ask, “What can I do for you?” and not those who ask, “What can you do for me?”

 

 

 

— C.O.

 

 

*Cue C.M. taking a moment to rethink her whole novel. Wait, she’s looking at me funny. Oh. I’ve been thinking out loud this whole time… Oops.*

 

 

 

 

Night Owls, tell us about some healthy relationships you’ve seen in fiction. What about them indicates a healthy relationship instead of a toxic one?