A Phantastic Rant: The Cast

When I like something, I really love it. This thing then becomes a fandom, which are glorious entities I deem worthy of my fanatical devotion. Examples include Star Trek, Pirates of the Caribbean, Les Miserables, and today's topic, The Phantom of the Opera.

My first exposure to The Phantom of the Opera occurred in 2004 when my mom and I saw the film adaptation of the musical. I was smitten. The music, the story, and above all, Gerard Butler had me as transfixed as Christine when she sees a chocolate muffin.

It took me a whole two years before I realized how awful the film was.

Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy watching it, it has plenty of redeeming qualities. But once I heard the original cast recording and experienced the show in Las Vegas, it dawned on me how little justice the film did to the original material.

Imma break it down fo ya.

The most obvious problem lies within the title character, played by Gerard Butler. How in the hell he was cast, I don't know. But I can certainly guess. Just look at those toasty eyes.I imagine his audition went something like this:

Gerard: Um, hi, my name is Gerry Butler and I can carry a tune--
Casting Directors: *Mopping drool from floor* --You're hired!

Gerard Butler, bless him, cannot sing. At least not this material. He's got a smokey/rock 'n roll voice that I quite enjoy, just not when he's trying to eek out those notes that need a trained powerhouse vocalist. But Gerard makes up for it with his own spin on the character, which is a sexed up badass/pitiful vibe that makes you want to molest him and run away at the same time. Plus, his appearance is so distracting you hardly notice he's straining to pull off the music.

Holy deity of tight pants, we thank thee for this blessing:


I have similarly mixed feelings about Emmy Rossum. She pulled off the naive-hypnotized-dunce aura that embodies Christine Daae, but her voice was wanting in several ways, mainly the last shrieking notes of the title song. Thanks to studio magic, I hardly noticed how weak she was until I heard those same notes blasted out by Sierra Boggess when my mom and I saw the show in Las Vegas. Holy hell, what a voice.

In addition, Rossum's lack of expressions aside from 'hypnotized' and 'I-just-had-a-lobotomy' make it difficult to ascertain what's going on in Christine's head at any given moment.

Seriously, look.


And my personal favorite:

(She's not singing or making a sound in any of these pics...just letting that jaw hang...)

At least Rossum met the physical/age description for Christine. She was only 16 when they started filming. Gross when you consider Butler was 34. But Christine's youth accounts for her impressionable naivety and severe lack of common sense, and the Phantom is supposed to be a lot older than her anyhow.

I've never liked Raoul, but I have no complaints about Patrick Wilson. He's got a beautiful voice, he's a decent actor, and his hair is prettier than Christine's. The perfect fop. I particularly enjoy his appearance as Old Raoul, which is some of the best 'aged' makeup I've ever seen in a film.

And he really pulls off acting like he's got one foot in the grave too.

The rest of the cast was likewise pleasing, in particular, Minnie Driver as Carlotta. Aside from Butler and Rossum, I'd say the casting was dead on.

So who would I rather play the Phantom, you ask? He was in the movie, actually.

Ramin Karimloo played Christine's father, Gustave Daae. You only see him a moment. It's almost as though the filmmakers are teasing me, "This is who could have played the Phantom if we knew what we were doing...ha!"


Karimloo has played the Phantom in London for a few years now, and is currently the youngest artist to ever don the mask on stage.

He also played the Phantom in the sequel. Behold his awesomeness: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_ExkTV1pJw

Aside from that song, the sequel is pretty horrendous. But alas, that is yet another rant for another day.

For Christine, I would choose the aforementioned Sierra Boggess. Like Karimloo, she's had plenty of past experience with the role and also starred in the sequel. (She's pictured with him above in the 'almost kissing' pic.) I can say from experience she is a phenomenal singer and actress (Mom, you can back me up on this).

Next time I'll rant about what was wrong with everything else in the film/musical versus the original novel. Namely the storyline. That's all for now, folks. Please punch a kitten on your way out.

Of Spiders and Star Trek

Living on the ground level of an apartment complex has it's ups and downs. Well, it just mostly has it's downs. The only 'up' is that I don't have to drag my lazy butt up any stairs. The 'downs' are as follows: hearing everything going on upstairs, hearing everything going on downstairs in the parking garage, being more vulnerable to theft since we're quicker/easier to get to, and last but not least, the spiders.

I just killed one now, actually. It was making a beeline for my Star Trek poster as if thinking, "If I'm on it, you can't squish me!"

Think again, dick.

He never got close. Until I have children, my instinctive maternal protectiveness is spent on my belongings. I almost felt like Mrs. Weasley in the last Harry Potter installment, "Not my poster, you bitch!"

The poor guy was probably just looking for his buddies I've been picking off. But hey, they deserve it for being stupid. My sister once waxed philosophical, as she often does, "If I were a bug I would go see the world! Go live somewhere cool. I would have no responsibilities! Why would I want to live in someone's bathroom or under their bed?"

And, of course, it doesn't help that spiders terrify me. I get it from my dad, I think. I'm not as bad as he is, though. He won't get near enough to even kill a spider if he can't help it. Whereas I can't wait for the opportunity to remove one of those beasts from the Earth. I still like to keep my distance though. My weapon of choice has and always shall be bug spray or a fly swatter.

They're everywhere in Southern California, so you'd think I would be used to them. But nooo. If anything it seems to have made me that much more aware of them. My grandma once told me that she's learned to not fear spiders through accepting that "they're just there", and while they can be harmful, most aren't. She told me this as she hunted for a spider I had spotted with her bare hands. The woman is a warrior. Or she's nuts.

The Deathly Audience

I'm a frequent movie-goer, and as such I have sat with nearly every type of audience there is. I've come to accept that people are inconsiderate dimwits who bring their children, crunchy candy, social lives, and bladder problems with them to the theater.

Utah is plagued with bad theater-goers, in particular, their offspring.

Today I had the opportunity to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, and lost count the number of times I was drawn from the film by the constant whispering in the row behind me. Right off the bat the little jerk was prattling, "Are those dementors?... Daddy?... Daddy?... Dad?... Dad, are those dementors?"

I have no problem with shushing people in a movie theater. I've done it many times. But something about this little girl's timing would bring me right up to the edge then she would shut up before I could snap. Damn her.

I nearly snapped when she ruined a scene I had been looking forward to, Snape's death. (Not that I was looking forward to Snape dying, just the scene itself, you see.) Anyway, as soon as Nagini started ramming into Snape's artery the little crap starts up her commentary, "You can see the blood! Snape's dying, mom! The snake's killing Snape! Look it! Skittles?"

I was ready to whip around and roar, "SHUT UP!" when Alan Rickman made me burst into tears instead.
Afterward, I seethed to Whitnee.

"I just wanted to throttle her! Or her parents, either one!"

"Oh Kimberly. What am I going to do with you?"

"Don't let me procreate. Ever."

Apocalypse at 7-11

Yesterday I made the monumental mistake of going to 7-11. My very nature is to be 'out of the loop', therefore I had no idea 7-11 was giving away free Slurpees all day, 7/11/11. Tony was on empty, so I needed gas regardless. It wasn't until I had pulled into the driveway that I realized my mistake. I carefully maneuvered my way toward the pumps, all the while dodging masses of sugar-seeking children and adults running like crack heads toward a free pancake buffet.
All the pumps were taken, and Tony and I began to despair when, hark! Up ahead! I saw a set of doors shut on a little Ford as it's occupants climbed back inside.
At that point I didn't care how many diabetic craplings I hit, so I zoomed aggressively over to the soon-to-be vacant pump and...I see a man walking toward the Ford. Is he a tardy passenger? Get in the car, dude! But wait...he's taking the cap off the tank...he's picking up the pump...and inserting it...dammit. So I had to wait with Tony's butt awkwardly sticking out in traffic's way while Mr. Ford took his sweet time. For those of you who haven't guessed already, Tony is my Toyota pickup:
Just kidding. Tony's way crappier:

But that's why I love him. Anyway, his butt was really in the way. And, of course, it didn't help to have people zooming past with a scant few inches to spare as they rushed to get their sugar buzz. While I waited, I watched the masses pressing in on the doors to the convenience store and was vaguely reminded of a horde of zombies, "Slurpee...slurpeeeee...!" There was even a terrified-looking Arab dude inside I half-expected to see wielding a shotgun.
An eternity later, Mr. Ford hung up the pump and paused to confer with one of his passengers. I was on the verge of yelling "Just get in the damn car!" when he finally strolled around to the driver's side and casually slipped into the seat.
Minding the zombies, I quickly pulled up and paid for some gas with my firstborn child. I escaped the 7-11, lesson learned.

A Miserable Rant

So...it's official. Hugh Jackman is all set to play Jean Valjean in the upcoming Les Miserables flick. There's still plenty of time for this to change, but as of now, Wolverine is gonna take on the most challenging male vocal role in musical theater history (above pic courtesy of my boredom). May I remind everyone what happened the last time Cameron Mackintosh vouched for a 'hot sexy' type in the lead role of a musical film adaptation?
But alas, that is another rant for another day.
I don't doubt that Hugh Jackman can sing, but can he really sing THIS? I'm sure with the aid of studio magic Jackman will make a passable Valjean, but why go through the trouble? Why not cast someone who has already proven himself and actually looks the part? Like one of the Valjeans from the US tour, West End, or New York? I can think of three off the top of my head: Alfie Boe, Mark McVey, and John Owen Jones. All have powerful voices, all are remarkable actors, and all embody Jean Valjean!
Hugh Jackman? He's a freaking stallion! Valjean is NOT supposed to be that attractive! There are many things I never want to experience in this life, and one of them is to catch myself drooling during 'Bring Him Home'. I mean, just look at him...

It actually took me an hour of deliberation to decide which pic to put here. That's how beautiful they all were.
The only other actor currently linked to this film is Paul Bettany. For Javert. Yes, you read that right. A skinny, pasty Brit as Inspector Javert. Alright, first of all, can he sing? I dunno! He can certainly act, but that doesn't make up for the fact that he looks nothing like Javert and certainly doesn't exude a badass-terminatoresque-muttonchopped-cop-from-hell attitude. Like this guy:

Don't get me wrong, I like Hugh Jackman and Paul Bettany. A lot. But I don't want to see them in this movie. Not in these roles, anyway. If they insist on using them, I think Jackman should be Javert and Bettany should be Thenardier. Jackman can pull off the sideburns, and Bettany can be pretty damn funny. Maybe I'll post my ideal cast later.
And who knows, maybe two years from now I'll find myself posting a raving review of the film. But as of now, they aren't even filming yet and I'm already afraid for this movie. My only message to the filmmakers is this: Beware. You're treading upon hallowed ground.
Next thing you know, they'll be casting a Jonas Brother as Marius. Oh wait...

Heaven help us. Heaven help us all.

I Promised Myself I'd Never Do This

Yet here I am, blogging. Or whining, as I am wont to do. Because that's what I always thought blogging was all about; whining about crap. But it turns out blogging is much more than just whining. It's publishing your opinions and thoughts for all the world to ignore. Like a glorified diary. It's also a great way to keep up with family, in case you're incapable of using a telephone or email, or Skype...or just sending a damn letter.
So if you're still with me, I would invite you to read on. For in this particular blog you shall find the sarcastic, touching, bitter, wise-beyond-her-years memoirs of a Kimmy.