#phantom thoughts

"I am an improvised comedian.. it does not pay well." - 2018

belated christmas gift for my beautiful wife @mareeoth

Ever since I first saw (and then read) “Phantom”, I - like many others - have been fascinated by the relationship between Erik and Christine. There was something incredibly touching, moving, earth-shattering about them in both their ALW and Leroux portrayals. Both narratives are comparable in the degree of ambiguity they afford to their relationship. But why exactly are Erik and Christine so compelling as a couple? They probably mean different things to everyone, but I have tried digging a bit more into the reasons why I personally love this tragic pair so much…

One of the reasons their relationship holds such a huge appeal for me lies in the deep symbolism it carries. Throughout the narrative, Erik and Christine are presented as opposites - angel and demon, black and white, beauty and ugliness, underground and aboveground. They represent the dualism of the human condition, embodying extremes that complement each other. Just as there is no light without darkness, either is incomplete without the other. That symbolism brings a universal, almost transcendental quality to their relationship. Visually, the „yin and yang“ symbol sums them up perfectly:

They are not only opposites - they also mirror each other. It is no surprise that the mirror is such an important symbol in their story, literally turning them into mirror images of each other. They are two sides of the same coin, both representing a part of dualistic world. And just as Erik shows Christine her own darkness, she brings out the light in his soul.

They also have quite a few features in common: Both have a past of being travelling performers. Both are each other’s „angels“. They are also both enormously talented and passionate musicians. The soul-deep connection they share through music is incredibly intimate, passionate and spiritually erotic - and it is the core that lends an almost otherworldly quality to their relationship. Through music, Erik and Christine seem to unite as one being, creating their private world where nothing matters but their hearts and souls:

„Music has the power to abolish everything in the world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart.“ (Christine Daaé)

Emotions are heightened and pushed to the limits here, resulting in what Christine repeatedly describes as „ecstasy“. This transcendental experience of going „beyond themselves“, of transcending the limits of their own being to connect with another, is a deeply Romantic concept.  But just as too much passion can become overwhelming and consuming, resulting in a loss of control, Christine’s connection to Erik becomes both necessary and terrifying as she fears losing herself in it, both fascinated by him and equally afraid of his potentially destructive power. Erik and Christine are in equal parts moth and flame to each other. They are helplessly drawn to each other despite knowing that the other holds the power to destroy them.

But perhaps the most important reason why I love Erik and Christine together is the fact that Erik is so utterly, completely, head over ears in love with her. What might appear as just an obsession at first glance is proven to be the truest kind of love in the end - a selfless love that puts Christine’s needs first and makes Erik sacrifice everything for her, “calmly cutting his own heart to pieces”. His love is like a searing light in the darkness, beautiful and pure. In the end, it does not even matter if Christine returns it because his love for her is so powerful that it alone redeems him. It also helps him grow and become a better person. He recognizes that his behaviour has been wrong, that love mustn’t be forced, and that he must give her up if he really loves her:

„In the end, most of the Phantoms, including Leroux’s, sacrifice their desires for a woman‘s and honor her choice. […] This sacrifice is the true aphrodisiac of most Phantom narratives: women‘s desires are upheld, no matter how conventional. It is this moment that earns the Phantom narrative its audience‘s loyalty, not the unseen „happily ever after“ promised to Christine by her conventional Raoul.“ (Ann C. Hall, “Phantom Variations”).

It is not certain though just how happy the „happily ever after“ will turn out for Raoul and Christine because we never even get to see it. Both Leroux (with his allusion to Christine’s „solitary singing“ and her return of the wedding ring to him) and ALW (implying that a solitary Raoul seeks closure by buying the Phantom‘s music box for Christine as an old man) insinuate that the loss of Christine’s almost symbiotic artistic relationship with Erik means that her soul will be missing an important piece for the rest of her life. And this is the extended tragedy of it, because Raoul also really loves Christine and would be willing to give up his life for her - the difference between him and Erik being mostly that Raoul is never required to go through with that sacrifice.

And even if Erik‘s love for Christine might not be entirely unrequited, it still remains unfulfilled in life. It is no surprise that Leroux links them to Romeo and Juliet - they are, in a sense, also star-crossed lovers whose love is doomed, both by wrong choices and by circumstances outside their control. Raoul, who is quite perceptive, sums it up in his fateful question in „Apollo‘s Lyre“:

„If Erik were handsome, would you love me?“

Christine’s reply of „ Why tempt fate? Why ask me about things I hide deep within my conscience, the way one would hide a sin?“ was not included in the widespread de Mattos translation - possibly because it is the most telling expression of her harbouring deeper, forbidden feelings for Erik that she can’t admit, since she is clearly unwilling to answer Raoul’s question. In Leroux, the narrator also implies that after Erik‘s death, Christine returned to him and put the gold wedding ring he had given her on his finger, ultimately fulfilling their impossible love in death.

If things were different, if Erik had been born with a normal face and lived a different life because of it, Erik and Christine might have had a chance at happiness. But this is left to the audience‘s imagination and wishful thinking, perpetuating the fascination with their tragic tale of unfulfilled love.

many of the others have blocked it out—trauma repression, cirrus told him once, so they can survive in this new world. those that don't, don't usually like to talk about it. adjusting to the new form, learning how to use the abilities, it's all so much so quick so loud so bright so much, they don't think about it if they can help it.

except swiss.

swiss remembers. he remembers the pain, he remembers the aches in his new muscles and the burn of his new abilities and the deafening noise of the mortal world, new and exciting and terrifying all at once. swiss loves it, loves the way he can do so much and no one bats an eye, really, but he remembers.

so when phantom comes, swiss is there, waiting. he's got heat and ice, soft blankets and firm fingers, rubs sore muscles and soothes the ache of being in a new home. it's not instant, of course, because phantom is...different, they're all different in their ways, so he waits like he always does until phantom comes to him. they talk and they laugh and they cry and when phantom asks if it's better here, if it really is worth it like everyone says, swiss is ready. he just has to tell the truth.

and if it means phantom is just as onboard with all the wild shit swiss does, ramps everything up to eleven because why not the way swiss does, prepares for summonings the way swiss does...well.

For example, when Erik appeared outside of Raoul’s room that one night. And instead of panicking or running away, as Erik had intended, Raoul went:

What an icon. I love that for him.