Meanwhile, at Fangoria, Phil Noble Jr. writes:

Until I get off my ass and start a podcast of my own, I’m happy any time I’m invited onto someone else’s. Being invited onto someone else’s podcast to talk Phantom of the Paradise? I’ll do that all day. It’s one of my favorite, most formative movies, and my love for it has, over the years, given back to me more than I can measure.

So I was very happy indeed to join Chris Slusarenko’s Revolutions Per Movie podcast (along with with visual artist and musician Perry Shall) to geek out for an hour and change over Brian De Palma’s 1974 film, which has in my lifetime gone from box office dud to secret handshake to out-of-print cult favorite to beloved classic of the canon.

Chris and Perry share my love for the film, so if you wanna hear people argue, this isn’t for you. But if you wanna hear three dudes unabashedly love on a once-forgotten glam rock musical horror epic, head here (or wherever you get your podcasts) to get an earful of it!

On stage in front of the giant screen before the film last night, Paul Williams recalled the days when the film was released in 1974. "What was very good fortune for us, was that it wasn't a small hit, or even a big hit," Williams told the Canneds audience. "It was a film that, the people that loved it, would not walk away from."

Before he gained much deserved acclaim for films like Carrie, Scarface and The Untouchables, Brian De Palma was best known for scrappy experimental films like Hi Mom and Sisters. The Phantom of the Paradise was an apparent attempt at a commercial breakthrough. But some audiences were weirded out by its garish ambience, and some jaded critics considered it a ho-hum satire of the music industry.

In retrospect, it’s simply one of the strangest movies we’ve ever seen — and one of the coolest. Music producer Swan (Paul Williams, who also provides much of the haunting music) makes naive songwriter Winslow Leach (William Finley) sell his soul and his songs so that they can be performed by Swan’s pet protege, Phoenix (Jessica Harper). He seeks justice by becoming The Phantom of the Paradise.

The atmospherics are incredible — doomed and portentous, without ever veering fully into camp. It’s also fun to note that Williams would, just a few years after this, co-write “The Rainbow Connection” for Kermit the Frog — and to wonder if, considering that De Palma and George Lucas traveled in the same circles, The Phantom influenced Darth Vader.

MOHAN IS THE DIRECTOR OF THE VOYEURS, IMMACULATE, SAVE THE DATE

 - FLASHBACK -

Watching this fever dream of a movie, it feels like Brian De Palma learned that he had six weeks left to live and decided to put all of his cinematic ideas in this film, whether or not they fit the story. It’s about an out-of-work actor who is housesitting at the Chemosphere and how he becomes more and more intrigued by a porn star he watches through a telescope. But following the plot is a fool’s errand – it’s the kind of film where you simply need to let the vibe wash over you in order to enjoy the onslaught of baffling maximalist creative decisions. From the sudden switch to rear projection mid-scene, to the abrupt musical number that happens toward the film’s climax; it’s crazy to think this is the blank check movie De Palma wanted to cash after the massive success of Scarface.

Body Double also contains one of my favorite set pieces in all of De Palma’s filmography. In a moment of pure visual storytelling, we follow the main character tailing his object of desire, while a stalker is simultaneously tailing her at the same time. It’s the kind of sequence that can only exist in a movie; it would be so challenging to read in a novel and could never work in audio form. The way De Palma carefully lays out the geography and visual design of how his three chess pieces move across the board is remarkable.

I also just love that the killer’s weapon — a giant drill — is a direct homage to Slumber Party Massacre, one of the smartest horror movies ever made, and directed by a woman.

Meanwhile...

Momentarily distracted by the presence of Winslow Leach, the composer, Swan quickly comes up with an idea. "Telephone," he commands to no one in particular, turning and pointing toward the telephone that sits atop a bedside table behind him...

Despite the temptation of stepping away from new movies in favor of the Overlook’s impressive revival slate, which included a 10th anniversary screening of Oculus with Mike Flanagan in attendance followed by Lucio Fulci’s Louisiana-set The Beyond, there was one classic film I could not ignore. I ventured from the Prytania multiplex to the classic New Orleans theater that gave it the Prytania name—an Uptown institution for over a century that can be found in the pages of A Confederacy of Dunces—for a 50th anniversary screening of Brian DePalma’s Phantom of the Paradise followed by a Q&A with songwriter/star Paul Williams conducted by John Cameron Mitchell. It was a predictably memorable conversation, filled with behind-the-scenes stories and other tales from the height of Williams’ variety show-era stardom (including an anecdote about visiting New Orleans with Lee Majors while wearing a dog collar). The film remains as thrillingly weird as ever, but it also felt fitting to close out the Overlook’s 2024 incarnation with a film that defied categorization then and now and helped inspire those that followed to do the same.

A film about a principled artist who must sell his soul to the devil and immediately regrets it? It’s easy to see Phantom of the Paradise as an arrow fired by one of New Hollywood’s great directors to the executives that fund his work, but it’s not a simple act of youthful rebelliousness. Winslow, perhaps a stand-in for De Palma, despises the glitz and glam of Swan’s world, but when he burns his face in a bizarre record-pressing incident, he dons makeup and a mask in order to become the phantom. It’s a fascinating comment on how show business can make a principled artist become what he despises, even as he rejects it.

Despite his pointed critique (and self-critique), there’s a softness in De Palma’s perspective that sets him apart from his more accomplished peers. While Martin Scorsese was fantasizing about being a New York tough guy in in Mean Streets, and Steven Spielberg was examining his own masculinity in Duel and Jaws, De Palma made a film about a man consumed by unrequited love, and its profound vulnerability is supported by the androgyny of its male characters. Before his accident, Winslow is just a gangly, goofy loner who wears his crush on his sleeve. Swan, as played by Williams, is small and effete, with shades of Truman Capote. Then there’s Beef (Gerrit Graham), who Swan first hires to replace Winslow. There’s a corollary to Rocky from Rocky Horror, another muscle-bound object of desire who confronts hetero-normies with their unspoken urges. He also looks a bit like Michelangelo’s David, if he were covered in glitter and given an endless supply of cocaine.

De Palma is having such fun poking at our vulnerable spots, however, that these questions and contradictions don’t really feel explored. They are raised, embodied, and then swept into the film’s audacious style. As in most of the director’s work, there are betrayals, murders, and sexual longing, but unlike the rest of his work, there are few moments of restraint here. De Palma plunges headfirst into his fantasia of music and mayhem and doesn’t really let up until the credits roll. It’s a near-psychedelic experience built not on freaky visual effects but on pure passion and unadulterated artistry. It might be mind-blowing if viewed under the right, umm, conditions, but even the straitlaced freaks among us are likely to fall under its magic spell.

A documentary paying homage to Winnipeg’s love affair with Brian De Palma’s cult musical Phantom of the Paradise will screen on Nov. 1 at the Burton Cummings Theatre, just in time for the film’s 50th anniversary.

Directed by Canadian filmmaker Malcolm Ingram, Phantom of Winnipeg features interviews with local “Phans,” original cast members, including star/composer Paul Williams, and director Kevin Smith, a longtime fan who will be in attendance at the screening.

The event will be hosted by Phantom actor Peter Elbling; Smith will take part in a post-screening Q&A.

Tickets, starting at $39.95 plus fees, go on sale today at 10 a.m. at Ticketmaster. The event precedes two sold-out screenings of Phantom of the Paradise on Nov. 2 at the Burt.

Anyway, it’s incredibly fun to come up with an evening’s entertainment for my comrades in kino, and those fleeting moments have fueled a low-key jealousy of the friends and acquaintances I have who get to do it full time (-ish). So you can imagine my elation when a phone call I made to Landon Zackheim, co-founder of the Overlook Film Festival in New Orleans, during which I pitched him a special screening for the 50th anniversary of The Phantom of the Paradise, was received so well.

I’m a pragmatic sort, so I pitched a scalable event, with removable parts and contingency plans, in the hopes that if we got a “no” on one front, we’d get a “yes” elsewhere, and end up with SOME version of this event for the fest. But yesterday The Overlook announced their lineup to the world, and I’m excited to say the Phantom event is the ultimate version Landon and I dreamed of.

First off, there’ll be an entertaining, informative and often hilarious presentation on the history, trials, tribulations, and persistence of Brian De Palma’s 1974 glam rock horror musical, given by Ari Kahan of The Swan Archives; next, a screening of the classic film itself, giving some Overlook audience members their first-ever chance to see the movie on the big screen (at the beautiful, historic Prytania Theatre, no less); and finally, an in-person conversation with the great Paul Williams, Phantom’s villainous star and composer. I kind of can’t believe it’s actually happening.

And to be clear: I did NONE of the work. I had an idea of how *I* would love to see the film presented, pitched it, connected a person or two to the fest, and Landon and his team made it happen. (Then, no less crucially, Fango agreed to sponsor it.) And my understanding is that Phantom is a film that the Overlook’s late artistic director Doug Jones had been hoping to screen at the fest for some time, so I humbly recognize that I’m just a small part of the universe’s larger plan here. But the excitement in Landon’s voice upon hearing my pitch, and the incrementally growing excitement in his voice with each new update — man, that’s a buzz I could get used to. And it’s a buzz I’ll be riding right up to the moment this screening ends… and let’s be honest, probably for a couple weeks afterward.

This screening will likely be the culmination of my 40-plus-year relationship with this movie, sure, NBD, but at its core it’s just a bigger version of showing people you like a movie you love, which is an attainable and relatable buzz for all of us. I think that tradition has been diminished in recent years as we text and DM each other links all day, and maybe fewer folks are sitting down to actually watch the thing you’re recommending (I know firsthand that folks will do anything to NOT leave the platform on which you’re sharing an external link with them). But it does still happen; Shudder and Screambox are basically platform-sized versions of this, with passionate movie lovers finding and sharing with us films they absolutely love. Certainly Joe Bob Briggs is the role model for this activity, championing lost classics on his show and converting his congregation to one new-to-them title or another every episode.

I bet the film fest programmers, the streaming programmers and Mr. Briggs alike would agree that curating films for our tribe is, on any level, a buzz worth chasing on both sides of the transaction. It’s probably tied to our innate desire to share and tell stories; maybe that’s what that dopamine hit I’m feeling right now is about. But, and not to put too much pressure on the next Blu-ray you loan out, it’s also ultimately how the movies we love gain immortality. It’s important and it’s needed. So fire up those recs, those links, those discs, get out there and spread the good word.