Oh. My. God.

So, as we're all aware, I'm busily and happily poking along on my little Phantom project, gleefully subjecting my friends list to endless reviews and inane ramblings, all in the name of academic discovery. In the course of collecting material for this mammoth endeavor, I've of course become aware of a new movie coming out at the end of this month. Angel of Music from Lighthouse Ltd. Pictures was originally intended to be a period retelling of the Phantom story, but after the wildly popular 2004 movie and various problems (mostly budgetary, from what I can tell) with the production, the premise was altered. The film now chronicles a reporter's quest to discover the true origins of the Phantom story and whether there is any truth to the events Leroux relates; along the way, events from the story begin to take on a life of their own and the reporter finds himself and his loved ones embroiled in scenes that eerily resemble those of the Phantom story, until no one is certain what is real and what is not. Period interludes begin to pepper the movie as it moves along, intensifying the confusion between reality and memory, fantasy and history.

Sounds cool, right? I was psyched from the description. There are plenty of straight-up interpretations of the story itself; how cool would it be if someone did something like this, that explored the psychological elements by tying them to a contemporary context and laid bare the themes of insanity and social stigma in an updated fashion, while still retaining enough of the period sensibilities to keep things fresh and interesting and hold the allegory together? That would be awesome. Imagine it with me, a Baz Luhrmann-esque journey through surrealism and psychosis.

This is not that movie.

Trailer the First
Trailer the Second

Be sure to watch that first one for the most limp-wristed wife abuse in the history of mankind. I haven't laughed that hard in... I don't know. I think watching the trailers may have killed some of the brain cells responsible for long-term memory. I've seen better acting from five-year-olds smeared with stolen chocolate.

I... just... argh. There are no more words. I'm torn between hysterical laughter and suicide.

I need to go lie down. I'll have to work up a more powerful will to live after the realization that I will not only have to watch this movie and pay attention, but will probably also pay money for the privilege.

At least the Lubin/Rains movie finally showed up, and the Yozaburo.  I can go watch an example of good filmmaking, or at least mediocre filmmaking, to scrub my brain.