Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: FRIDAY, March 16, 1990                   TAG: 9003162371
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: E3   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: Tom Shales
DATELINE: WASHINGTON                                 LENGTH: Medium

HERE'S ONE 'PHANTOM' YOU'LL CERTAINLY WANT TO MISS

Gaston Leroux's novel "Phantom of the Opera" is in the public domain, so anyone can do an adaptation and use the title. Already two stage versions of the book are touring the country - both of them surely hoping to be mistaken for the hit musical, which first opened in London in 1986.

It's still playing there, as well as in New York and Los Angeles. A touring company will hit the road in July.

There have been no fewer than four movie versions, one a 1925 silent with Lon Chaney, another a 1943 Technicolor spectacular starring Claude Rains. This is in addition to Brian De Palma's funny rock update, "Phantom of the Paradise."

And now, tagging along at the absolute end of the pack, comes a new two-part, four-hour version, "Phantom of the Opera," airing Sunday and Monday on NBC. If you've missed all the other versions, you'll certainly want to miss this one, too.

If you've seen previous adaptations, you may find yourself scratching your head in confusion at the embellishments imposed by Arthur Kopit, the playwright whose previous TV movie, "Hands of a Stranger," was a cunning, eerie thriller. "Phantom" is just heavy-breathing hooey.

As if this new edition weren't redundant enough, "Phantom's" story of a beautiful woman infatuated with a mysterious, cave-dwelling stranger also inspired the CBS series "Beauty and the Beast," which did a lot more with atmospherics and moody romanticism than Kopit's film does.

The oddest addition to the traditional tale is the character of the phantom's father, invented so Burt Lancaster would have someone to play. Dad is the manager of the Paris Opera House; though fired as the film opens, he continues to hang around looking after his disfigured offspring dwelling in the catacombs.

That would be Erik. Erik R. Phantom. As played by Charles Dance, he's neither scary nor charismatic. He does have masks for all occasions, however - fancy-dress masks he wears on top of his other mask. One is reminded of Robert Stack in "Airplane!" ripping off one pair of sunglasses to reveal another pair beneath.

Kopit adds so many humorous touches in part one that it begins to seem more like "A Night at the Opera" than "Phantom of." That rascally phantom puts bugs in the leading lady's wig and booby traps her props. The opera audience roars with laughter.

Nor is the phantom very elusive. He sends snotty notes to the manager demanding that Box No. 5 be held open for him. The notes are signed, "the phantom of the opera."

As in all versions of the story, Phant falls madly, wildly, hopelessly in love with Christine, a virginal young soprano, played here by the enormously cute Teri Polo. On the night of her debut, the evil diva slips Christine a Mickey that zaps her little vocal chords.

What happens then? Phanty throws a tantrum. He cuts the rope that suspends the famous chandelier and, as is traditional, it comes crashing down on the audience below. Big deal.

As part two opens, the phantom takes Christine to his subterranean lair. NBC proudly points out that its version of "Phantom" is the first ever to have filming done in the Caves of Mello on the outskirts of Paris, caves similar to those in which the real phantom might have lived. Lah-de-dah.

Certainly the most robust performance on the premises is given by Andrea Ferreol, who plays Carlotta, the jealous old diva. She's so enjoyably ferocious, and the phantom plays such mean tricks on her, that you may find yourself rooting for her. That's the exact opposite of what the author wants.

After the phantom throws a box of rats at her, Carlotta goes cuckoo and can later be seen dancing around her dressing room with a lily.

To fill the four hours of air time (3 hours and 10 minutes without commercials), Kopit pads the story with flashbacks to the days when Erik was but a baby phantom. Later, Christine begs and begs to see him without his mask. He takes it off, she faints, but after all that fuss, the camera never does give us a good look at his face.

Perhaps the producers wanted to save on their makeup bill. Or maybe they just wanted to leave it to our imaginations. Unfortunately, this silly "Phantom" suffers mightily by having been left to theirs. Washington Post Writers Group