This is my head-canon and has been for a while now. Sorry/you’re welcome in advance:
Carlotta just stormed off the stage after her interrupted rendition of “Think of Me.” She’s about to exit the theater doors when she hears an angel’s voice echoing from the direction of the stage. Cautiously, she sneaks back to spy on the intruder whose voice has raptured her attentions.
Standing in the center of the stage is Mlle Christine Daae, the sad little ballet rat who always has her head in the clouds and not on her artistry. Carlotta thought her pathetic—with a beautiful physique and obvious talent for the ballet, she was throwing away her career in favor of frivolous daydreams. But now, as Carlotta hears that… that VOICE… She knows that she had greatly underestimated Miss Daae, and she did not intend to make that mistake again.
That night Carlotta’s dreams are filled with Christine’s voice. Of course, Christine still had much to learn. Carlotta knew first hand the level of hard work and dedication necessary to become a true prima donna in the cut throat environment of the international stages. To embody the spirits of music, grace, and theater. The leading lady of a tradition rife with history and politics. No, raw skill alone is not enough for the likes of Mlle Daae to ascend the throne. What she needed was strict technical training beyond the meager beginnings of training her voice suggested.
Blah blah blah during Il Muto Carlotta wishes the overdramatized kisses up her arm were real. Christine, shocked at her own thoughts, also wishes that the kisses were real. She has no time to mull on this, however. During AIAOY, all thoughts of Carlotta vanish when for the first time since her father’s death, Christine is offered open, loving arms. She jumps into them without an ounce of forethought. She clings to Raoul for the safety she craves without regard for the consequences.
That night Carlotta is furious. She knows the error in her voice was not her own. This was the phantom’s doing. She didn’t know how he did it, but never in her life had she emitted such a wretched sound of her own accord. She is furious at Christine. That ballet rat who used her connections to ascend the ladder of greatness instead of hard work and talent. Those dreamy, doe eyes lacking any discipline. Those gentle, pink lips… as they brush against Carlotta’s sleeve…
Twisted Every Way. Carlotta sees it now. Christine is not in control. She is not manipulating her way to the top. She is being forced there by men using her and her talent for their own gain without regard for her well-being. Christine is frightened. Vulnerable. That day dreamy stare doesn’t stem from a lack of discipline. It’s the stare of endless terror. Of someone who wants to break out of a carefully gilded cage but is fumbling around in the dark for the key.
Final Lair. Christine does kiss the phantom. She does run off with Raoul. But soon Christine grows tired of the pampered life of the elite. And now that the looming threat is gone, she realizes that her “love” for Raoul was actually just desperation. He is the key that she clung to in the dark and nothing more. She did not love him. She needed his help and he abused her delicate mental state to elicit words of love out of her. He didn’t mean to do it. He has never experienced true trauma and thus had no idea the effect it was having on Christine. But his intentions do not change the outcome.
Christine, missing deeply the routine and knowing the phantom is no longer a threat, returns to the opera and asks the directors for a job. She’ll do anything. She’ll rejoin the ballet corps if she must. She needs something, anything, to ground her back to reality and to give her the space to grieve and grow.
The managers scoff at the idea of Christine returning to the corps. They tell her that she must sing. She needs lessons of course but she must sing.
It is then that Carlotta’s otherworldly soprano voice announces itself from the doorway.
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