![]() I mean, don't get me wrong, The Phantom of the Opera is a ton of fun, especially if you love dark and brooding monster boyfriends (which I do). And, to be honest, it's a pretty schlocky Gothic romance. ![]() So Leroux cooked up an Opera Ghost responsible for all this weirdness, and turned it into a serialized novel, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra. There was also the true story of the time that the grand chandelier's counterweight fell through the ceiling, killing a construction worker. Leroux was inspired by the rumors that swirled around the old Paris Opera: there were tales of an enormous lake hidden under the building's foundation (it was really a covered water tank), of a ballet dancer's skeleton being used as set dressing, and of a hidden stash of phonographic recordings deep in the cellar. But before Andrew Lloyd Webber was trapping tourists on Broadway, before Lon Chaney was hamming it up on the silent screen, before the internet was flooded with Erik/Raoul fanfiction, an author named Gaston Leroux sat down to write a mystery novel about a shattered chandelier. That Phantom, the little French story from the early 20th Century that most people know through its countless, way more popular adaptations. The one with the singing and the mask and the sick electric guitar sting. ![]()
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