Anyone I have ever crossed paths with can confidently define me as a person obsessed with Italy, a person who has a pure passion for art, a person who can play a mean trumpet, and a person who can still be reduced to tears regardless of the amount of times viewing a particular musical.... that musical is The Phantom of the Opera.
My love for this musical began (I believe) since infancy. My mother constantly played the soundtrack and sang along to it's hauntingly, beautiful melodies when I was a child. I can recall one Halloween listening to the song "The Phantom of the Opera" repetitively as our house became consumed with music, just like the Phantom's labyrinth.
In middle school, I found another individual that shared this same "Phantom Passion" as I did, my band director. (While he remains to be another story entirely and one I will tell) he helped to nurse that tiny phantom seed that had been planted so long ago. I would often stay behind after school and sit listening to the soundtrack with him.
"Did I ever tell you about the time 'The Music of the Night' brought me back to life? I was having heart surgery and had to miss the marching band finals. Our theme that year was The Phantom of the Opera. While I lay on the operating table, my students filled the skies with Webber's musical genius. They dedicated that show and "The Music of the Night" to me and won. The Phantom of the Opera helped me survive that surgery."
I would listen intently to this story over and over as our favorite phantom song "The Music of the Night" filled the silence in the background. "This song is my absolute favorite, " he would say to me. "He ends it so quietly instead of with a big bang. It really demonstrates great breath control on the part of the musicians." Some of my fondest memories are of sitting in that band room just listening over and over to the music and the stories. I had come to call him my Angel of Music.
Now, I have stressed how many times I have listened to the music, but have yet to say how many times I had actually SEEN the play. Well, at that point in time... I HAD NEVER SEEN THE PLAY! There was no movie version and it had never dawned on my parents that I might be interested in seeing Phantom instead of some "kid friendly" musical appearing on Broadway. For years I only had the music to go off of, but then the movie industry stepped in.
Just a few months before the movie was released, my band director passed away. I was beyond repair. My mentor, my friend, my Angel of Music was gone. I fell into a deep depression, one that seemed like a black hole sucking the life force straight from me. Then, the movie came out.
My mother took me to the opening day of the movie's release, hoping this would be able to heal just a fraction of the pain I was feeling. Suddenly the theater darkened, and the Paris Opera House appeared on the screen. I tear rolled gently down my cheek as I began to embark on the adventure I had longed for since childhood. I sat mezmorized. I hung onto every word that was said and every phrase that was song. I felt as if my band director was watching it alongside me. When the movie ended and the lights flooded back into the theater, I continued to stare at the screen crying my eyes out. I felt sad, wonder, joy, and the wave of memories rushing back to me. This seemed a mere blip in comparison to the waterworks I was reduced to when I finally saw Phantom live.
One birthday, my aunt handed me a beautiful wooden box with stars and a moon carved all around it. "Happy Birthday! I hope you love it." I opened the box ever so lightly and there inside was a delicate and beautifully detailed Venetian mask. I carefully picked up the mask and ran my fingers over the porcelain lips. I looked back down in the box and saw a note along side an envelope. The note read:
"Image you are wearing this mask and dancing the night away with your very own Phantom."
I opened the enveloped to find 4 tickets to The Phantom of the Opera on Broadway! I screamed, cried, and flew into my aunts arms thanking her over and over again. Naturally I took her as my gust, along with my mother and sister.
I entered the theater and sat in my plush, velvety chair staring at the stage. Finally the lights fell low and the maestro struck up the band into the overture. I cried from start to finish. I was finally seeing this play, finally hearing the music live. And as the Phantom swept across the stage pulling the hypnotized Christine through the long, standing mirror as her Angel of Music, I could feel my own Angel of Music around me. Of course, the largest tears and fondest memories came when the Phantom began singing "The Music of the Night."
Today, I have worn out several copies of my Phantom CDs, can quote the movie verbatim, learned the entire musical score on my trumpet, visited the Paris Opera house on my trip to France, and have seen the Broadway musical a grand total of 3 times. Still, I am tear stricken. Still, it will never be enough. Still, I can feel my Angel of Music with me whenever The Phantom of the Opera is around.
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