Searching for the Phantom of the Opera

By the time Faeth and I had visited half the WWI and WII battle sites in France we wanted, we only had one day left for that famous city of love, gay París. One day is not nearly enough time to visit this sprawling, 2,000-year-old city, with a history that spans Roman invasions, absolute monarchies and bloody revolutions. There’s something for everyone: art lovers have the Louvre, nature lovers have the Tuileries Garden, and plain old lovers have that magical Eiffel Tower. But I had my sights set on one very specific place: the Palais Garnier.

It was a tad less majestic with the construction crane in the way

The Palais Garnier, also known as Opéra Garnier, is a gigantic Beaux-Arts style opera house designed by Charles Garnier and finished in 1875. (There was a brief delay because of the Siege of Paris during the Franco-Prussian War, when the building was used as a hospital and food storage area.) It was the grand opera house of Paris until 1989, when the new Opéra Bastille opened up. Now, the Palais Garnier mainly produces ballets.

Part of the sweeping grand staircase

But the old opera house is much more than what the entertainment it offers. The building itself is absolutely gorgeous, a giddy mix of Baroque opulence and sleek turn-of-the-century innovation. From the outside, the opera house looks like one more government building inspired by the Greeks, but once you step inside, you are swept into such overwhelming magnificence and luxury that you don’t know what to look at first: marble columns, giant sculptures of famous composers, intricately-carved balconies… and that’s before you even get to the famous grand staircase, a double-winged marble walkway that allows hundreds of guests to mingle before the show. When you finally arrive at the actual theater, you’re faced with floor-to-ceiling gold leaf and rich red velvet seats, all situated underneath a glittering 7-ton bronze and crystal chandelier so beautiful it takes your breath away. As you wander the halls of this sprawling Edwardian masterpiece, it’s easy to imagine ladies in evening gowns and opera gloves being escorted to their seats by dashing men in tuxedos and top hats.

The theater seats nearly 2,000 people

 

Such a dazzling building is definitely worth a visit by any history or art lover, but I had a special reason for winding my ways through the streets of Paris to find the Palais Garnier: I am a huge fan of The Phantom of the Opera. I read Gaston Leroux’s 1910 novel when I was in junior high school and it’s been one of my favorite books ever since. Then when I was a teenager, I discovered Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1986 stage adaptation and I was really hooked. I’ve seen probably ten or more movies based on the tragic love story between a masked musical genius and the angelic soprano he adores, from the silent 1925 version starring Lon Chaney to the 2004 musical with Emmy Rossum and Gerald Butler (as well as a cartoon adaptation and the very weird Brian De Palma version, The Phantom of Paradise). I’ve gobbled up any supplementary reading I can get my hands on, such as Susan Kay’s Phantom and Webber’s gaudy The Phantom of Manhattan sequel. I’ve bought soundtracks and music books and any Phantom merchandise I can find hidden away at garage sales. I’ve seen the show three times in two places. I even sewed my own ball gown based on a pattern from Christine’s Masquerade dress. I guess you could call me a real Phanatic—so it’s no surprise I would make a pilgrimage to the place where it all began.

"She's singing to bring down the chandelier!"

 

Walking around the Palais Garnier was a dream come true. I got to see the staircase that inspired the extravagant Masquerade scene in Webber’s musical. I stood under the infamous chandelier that helped inspire the novel itself. And I got to peek into Box 5, the box where, according to Leroux’s novel, the Phantom always watched performances. A plaque had been attached to the door, stating: Loge du Fantôme de l'Opéra (Lodge of the Phantom of the Opera). Unfortunately, I couldn’t travel down under the building to view the underground lake mentioned in Leroux’s novel (I think the receptionist thought I was crazy when I asked!), nor could I climb to the roof to see the giant golden sculpture where the Phantom hid while Christine and Raoul sang love songs to each other. But what I saw was enough to keep me satisfied for some time… at least until I come back to watch a real performance!

Maybe I'll spot him next time I visit...