Paul Williams: One-Upping Barry Manilow
Rock isn’t dead; it’s been stolen.
PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE
Directed by Brian de Palma
{20th Century Fox)
Rock isn’t dead; it’s been stolen.
The master thief is Swan, head of Death Records, an entrepreneur so cynical he makes David Geffen look like Robin Hood. Swan discovered Elvis, plugged in Dylan, brought over the Beatles. His latest sensation, the ShaNa-Na-ish Juicy Fruits, are fading, and he needs to find the right act to open his ultimate rock palace, the Paradise.
Enter Winslow Leech (William Finley), who looks like he jams on the broom at your local A&P. But he has a magic touch: Beethoven rolled over, with Elton John melodies and the voice of a hummingbird, or at least Leon Russell. Swan swipes Leech’s rock-opera of Faust, frames Leech. Leech seeks revenge, gets mutilated in a record pressing machine, and becomes the phantom of the paradise.
The parody gets pretty predictable from here: a little Phantom of the Opera, Dorian Gray (not Dobie’s brother), Beauty and the Beast, Hunchback of Notre Dame, but the action is carried by De Palma’s swift script, split screens, eye-poppingly colorful set design, and outstanding performanqes.