The Phantom of the Opera: A Metatheatrical Experience

I went to see an Australian/New Zealand production of the Phantom of the Opera recently. It was an excellent production, despite a technical problem that was serious enough to stop the production towards the climax for 10 minutes. However, for me it did not detract from the experience at all, but in fact rather enhanced it, as I will explain later. It made me reflect on the idea of metatheatre, and how appropriate it was that in perhaps one of the most metatheatrical productions I have ever seen, an unexpected hitch could further enhance such a perspective of viewing this play.

It is useful to first define what I mean when I talk about “metatheatre”. This term was coined by Lionel Abel to describe plays which do not strive to be realist, but instead blur the world on the stage with the real world, with the profound effect of making the audience realise that real life is not so different from fiction after all. Practically this can be as simple as “breaking the fourth wall”, such as directly addressing the audience; but a more complicated way of achieving this can involve enacting a play-within-a-play, confusing the audience’s role as to whether they are simply spectators, or also unwitting actors who play a part in helping the play unfold.

At the most basic level, in the Phantom of the Opera simple theatrical techniques are used to draw attention to the fact that this drama is not realist; for example, during the Hannibal rehearsal scene, the dialogue is highly contrived so as to clearly reveal to the audience who each character was by individual introductions; similarly, in case the audience had any doubt, every time the Phantom interrupts the opera on stage, Meg gratuitously cries out, “It’s the Phantom of the Opera!” Such unrealistic dialogue is clearly intended to inform the audience with crucial details about character, but also serve to alienate the audience by breaking their suspension of disbelief, so that they see the world on stage as unrealistic, before linking this world to real life to make the audience realise the uncanny resemblance between fiction and reality.

At the same time as this dynamic is being set up, the opposite forces that serve to bring the two worlds together are already at work. The clever use of the chandelier is striking in its effectiveness at achieving this: at the beginning, the chandelier is part of the world of the stage, but when it “comes alive”, it moves hauntingly towards the audience and remains the chandelier for the audience in the real world until it crashes back down onto the stage (which unfortunately did not happen in our session). As the play continues, it is interesting to note that not only is the play about the experiences of characters in an opera house, but the play itself is written effectively as an opera. In addition to the memorable songs that dominate the play, the use of representative musical motifs, such as the Music of the Night and the Angel of Music themes for the Phantom, or All I Ask of You for love scenes, are typical of the genre of opera, as is the extensive use of recitative (music written in the rhythm and pitch of normal speech in order to deliver mundane information to move the plot forward), such as in the delivery of the various notes from the Phantom. This is enhanced by the reference to another opera when the Phantom calls Christine a “lying Delilah”, which alludes not only to the Biblical character but to the same character in an opera by Saint-Saens. By employing the same operatic techniques as the world the play seeks to imitate, and specifically referencing its uncanny resemblance to another fictional world, we begin to get the sense that there is a play-within-a-play, further blurring the boundaries between fiction and reality. If what is on stage simply imitates what is on another stage, then what is there to say that real life is not just another window through which someone else sees the world we live in as contrived and unrealistic?

Indeed, this idea is reinforced when Christine finishes singing Think of Me, and the audience on stage clap (represented by the backdrop with background clapping noises), the audience in the real world applaud for her as well. At that point a real sense of confusion is created: are we in the audience actually isolated, third party observers of a play, or are we active participants in the world of the play itself without knowing it? When the Phantom’s voice is heard behind us all, is he really speaking to the audience on stage, or to us? The raising of these sorts of questions is what gives force to metatheatre, and with these constant reminders we are ultimately convinced to believe that real life does uncannily resemble the fictional world, and what happens there could very well happen here.

Having briefly explained the profound effect metatheatre can have on the audience, I can now explain why the technical glitch actually enhanced my experience that day despite being rather inconvenient. What happened was that during the rooftop scene, after the Phantom had just wreaked havoc by interrupting the show with a hanging corpse, something in our theatre blew and the lights suddenly came on, whereas the singing on stage could no longer be heard. The resemblance of this accident to what had just occurred a few minutes ago on stage, when Carlotta lost her voice, was certainly eerie. I found that when it resumed, and during most of the second half of the play, I was not only engrossed in the actual plot of the musical itself, but also in the possibility that what is presented on stage could indeed happen in real life; and because I knew the chandelier was supposed to crash on stage, and had not done so ¾ through the play, I was half expecting it to crash down at the wrong moment! I’m relieved it did not happen, but the anticipation and angst of the possibility was an exhilarating experience in itself, and brings the Phantom of the Opera into life in the real world. One could say that I am simply strange for thinking in such a way; but I would argue that had the play not been so metatheatrical throughout to instil such ideas into me, I would never have thought of it; but now I do secretly wonder if the Civic did leave Box 5 empty for the Phantom after all...