On 5th March 2011, some members of the original London cast ofLove Never Dies including Sierra Boggess, Summer Strallen, Joseph Millson, Niamh Perry and Jami Reid-Quarrell took their final bows on the Adelphi Theatre stage to an amazing audience response, before saying final farewells to the incredible crowd at the theatre Stage Door! Check out this exclusive footage of an incredible evening, taken from the wings and from the dressing rooms – also featuring continuing cast members Ramin Karimloo, Tam Mutu, Adam Pearce and all our wonderful ensemble and swings.
By the time help had arrived, Gustave had fallen asleep, exhausted from the emotional turmoil he had just witnessed. Erik held him on his front as he stood and stared at Christine’s body in the distance and suddenly felt very cold. His flesh pricked and a chill ran down his spine. He realised that he still hadn’t got used to the sight of corpses, even after his bloody time in Persia after those pointless, haunting murders he committed. It felt very strange to be carrying such a innocent boy with such bloodied hands and he didn’t know how he’d cope looking after such a responsibility. Erik worked best alone and sadly had gotten used to being in solitude as well.
He heard footsteps rushing behind him and he turned to see the resident Doctor, Tristan Hugh and his assitant hurrying along with a stretcher carried between them. Following behind were two plain clothed police officers, who he had commissioned to look out for trouble in his park, and his associate and business partner, Nadir Khan. The latter looked particularly flushed as he caught up with the group and stopped dead when he saw the corpse in the distance. He immediately looked at Erik, seeking answers, but Erik only stared back blankly. Nadir looked again at the corpse and paled, realising who the body belonged to and swallowed thickly.
“Mr Duvant, I am so sorry, I tried to be as quick as possible-” Dr Tristan spluttered before Erik interrupted him.
“It’s alright, Doctor. I’m afraid…” Erik couldn’t help but sigh before continuing on, “I’m afraid it was a lost cause. She is down there. See to her if you could and please, treat her with the upmost respect.” The Doctor nodded and hurried his assistant down the jetty were he met a despondent Meg still wailing into the night. He then turned to the police officers who regarded him warily. It was fortunate he had replaced his mask and wig for he would not be able to easily intimidate them as he could.
“Could you please tell us what happened, Mr Duvant?” The shorter of the two started, flipping out his notebook and poised a pencil on the paper. Erik looked at him stonily, and the other officer coughed awkwardly.
“A very unfortunate accident, Mr Ruble. A faulty gun with a jumpy trigger. It shouldn’t have ever happened. I tried to stop it, but I was too slow.”
“Was it you holding the gun, Sir?” Erik shifted the boy in his arms and gritted his teeth.
“No.”
“So who was-” Erik jumped in, using a voice he hadn’t used since Paris. The Opera Ghost resurrected himself once more and the two police officers shrank back at his dark look.
“Listen, gentleman, I am in no mood to be cross examined. If you would care to come by my apartment tomorrow, I’d be very happy to elaborate and tell you. But for now if you could leave, that would be very helpful, as I have other matters to attend to. Unless, of course, you’d like me to inform your Commissioner what you get up to in your spare time.” The two men exchanged panicked looks and nodded quickly.
“Of course, Mr Duvant. We will drop by tomorrow for a full report.” The pair turned away on their heels and disappeared into the night.
“I haven’t heard that voice since Paris, Erik.” Nadir said warily.
“Sometimes I have to use it. I do not have the energy to tell them what happened in detail. I… I can’t do it. Not yet.” He sighed heavily, closing his eyes in attempt to stop his tears from falling again.
“Erik I am so, so,sorry.” He placed his hand on Erik’s arm, but knew his friend would never be the same again. The masked man nodded and yet still smiled, albeit a little sadly.
“She hasn’t left me alone, though. Nadir… This…” He paused, before looking at Nadir straight in the eye, “This is my son.”
The Persian man stared at him wide eyed, then laughed, then stopped abruptly when he saw Erik was being fully sincere and looked at the boy who was currently asleep with his arms wrapped around Erik’s neck.
“Excuse me?” Was all he could squeak out and Erik, despite the situation, actually chuckled softly.
“I know. I know. But, it’s true. Gustave is my son.” Nadir looked at him expectantly, waiting for more details and Erik gave them reluctantly, “Before we left for America, she sought me out, figured out where I would be. We made love and in the morning I left. I knew it was the right thing to do. She deserved a great life, full of prosperity, not one of struggle and doubt with me. Little did I know she fell pregnant with my child. She’s raised him practically alone. It’s my turn now.” Nadir looked at the young boy, scrutinising his appearance and stared at Erik doubtfully. “I know it’s hard to believe but if you push back his fringe and look at his forehead, you’ll know it is true.”
Nadir did as he said and gasped when he saw the puckered bit of skin, so similar to part of Erik’s deformity that he had seen many times before.
“By Allah…” Was all he could say and at his touch, Gustave blearily opened his eyes and peered at Nadir in confusion. The eyes in which Nadir looked mirrored that of his friend and it almost made him stagger back into the sea.
“What..?” Gustave mumbled, before Erik shushed him gently and bid him to return to his slumber. It didn’t take much for the boy to fall back asleep, especially when Erik started rocking softly side to side.
“Erik… I… What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea. All I know is that I want the boy to stay with me. I just don’t know how I am going to achieve that-”
They were disrupted by a sharp cry and turned to see Meg face down on the jetty, shuddering with sobs. Christine had been transferred to a stretcher and was covered by a starch white blanket. The Doctor and his assistant started to solemnly carry her back to the horse and carriage that awaited them on land and Nadir stood to Erik’s side, grasping his shoulder as she went by. Only Nadir watched as she was loaded into the back, whilst Erik buried his head into Gustave’s hair and refused to look. It was a final reminder for him that he could not take.
“Please,” he said muffled and Nadir waited for his request, “Deal with Mademoiselle Giry. I’m going to take Gustave back to my apartment so he can properly rest.”
“Of course.” Nadir started to leave, but turned back and grasped Erik’s shoulder again. “We will sort this out, Erik. I will try my best.” Erik nodded gratefully and waited until Nadir was by Meg’s side before taking his leave.
Through the park he wondered alone with Gustave, everyone having been sent away or told to stay indoors. He located his apartment on autopilot, completely oblivious to the world around him as his brain formulated idea after idea on how to keep Gustave with him. He opened the door and locked it behind him, suddenly shrinking in on himself and swallowing back a huge sob as he carried Gustave to his bed and lay him down on the covers. He removed his shoes and covered him with a big blanket, before taking a seat in the armchair in the corner of the room and cried himself silently to sleep.
His wonderful, beautiful Christine was now just a corpse. He could barely look at the limp form of his muse, as the blood from the shot flowered across the white linen of her dress. Ironically it had bled into the shape of a rose, the same colour as the ones he had given to her all those years ago when she was alive and triumphant.
He lay her body down gently on the cold, damp wood of the jetty, supporting her head so that it did not knock harshly against the surface. As he crossed her arms over her chest, barely suppressing the tears that pressed against his eyes, he heard footsteps and looked up into the gloom.
It was Meg. She looked distraught and wild, her hands still shaking from what she had done.
“No….No!”Brushing past him, she sat by Christine’s head and cradled it in her lap, pushing away the strands of hair. “No… Christine… What have I done?” She sobbed, allowing her tears to flow freely. Erik stared at her, numb. Reaching up to the clasp around his throat, he undid it and handed Meg his cloak, getting up from his knees.
“Here.” He said, voice rough and thick. Meg accepted it with a trembling hand, laying it over the body she held as if she were tucking up her babe.
“I am so sorry.” She sobbed, brushing her thumb against Christine’s still warm cheek. Erik did not respond. He didn’t know who she was talking to. Instead, he walked further away, sick to the stomach, his mask pressing uncomfortably against his face. He didn’t even see Gustave, who was tentatively making his way back until he was only a few feet away. Erik stopped where he stood, cocking his head as Gustave got closer and peered up at him through eyes glazed with tears.
“Is she…?” Again Erik, did not speak, merely shifted his body so that he could see Meg cradling his mother as she lay unresponsive and limp. But Gustave had already known from the moment he saw the blood bloom on her shirt what the outcome would be. He choked down a sob, brushing his tears harshly away as he looked at this man… his father… who stared back at him blankly. It was like there was no one there. He didn’t know what to say so instead he reached for his fathers hand and grasped it. That seemed to jolt him out of his state as he looked down in wonderment at their entwined hands, then at the boy. He took in a shuddering breath and sat down on the edge of the jetty, bidding Gustave to do the same. They looked across the eerily calm ocean and at the moon who cast her perfect, shimmering form across the surface.
“I’m sorry that… that you found out like this. That I am your father.” Still holding hands, Gustave peered up and was met by a cold, white mask that was completely emotionless and hard for him to look at. He no longer wanted to see this… thing… that hid his father. His mother had taught him a wise lesson. Look with the heart and not with the eyes. It was time for him to do so. Reaching up with his free hand, he rested his hand against the mask and curled his fingers under the seamless lip that almost seemed to melt in with his fathers face. Erik jerked away and glared at him warningly, softening when he saw the quiet determination in his eyes that reminded him of Christine.
“Gustave… Is this truly what you want?” The innocent boy nodded, withdrawing his hand as his father reached up and pulled away his mask and wig slowly, turning away almost immediately to place them on the ground next to him. He was stalling. Gustave touched his arm, felt the hard, sinewy muscle underneath and beseeched him to look his way as he tugged gently. Erik let out another quivering sigh and turned haltingly until the ravaged side of his face was in full view, not even daring to watch his sons reaction. Instead he stared and stared at the moon, now allowing the tears to run freely down his cheeks. He had had enough of holding them in.
Erik gasped when he felt a little hand brush his ravaged cheek, then cupped it, before it explored the rest of his deformity. He looked then, curious to know his reaction and was surprised to see acceptance as the hand crawled up further and brushed his non existent eyebrow. What he didn’t expect was for the boy to suddenly crawl into his lap, wrapping his arms tight around his torso and resting his head against his chest. Stunned, Erik sat with his arms rigid at the side, knowing the boy could hear the erratic thumping of his heart before he came to his senses and hesitantly wrapped his arms back around him. When he felt the boys tears wet his shirt, he rocked his son ever so gently side to side and rubbed his back soothingly. It felt good, albeit a little strange for him. They sat in silence like this for a while, until Gustave pulled back a little and inspected him again.
“I’m… I’m glad that I found out by the way. I’ve always felt a little different, a little odd and I never knew why.” He laughed softly, “I guess it all makes sense now.”
Erik dared to brush the hair out his sons eyes and cocked his head in curiosity.
“What do you mean?” He watched as his son reached up to his hairline and pushed back his fringe, revealing a small puckered bit of skin that zigzagged back through his hair. Proof that Erik lived in him. A blemish of his own.
“I was born with this. My father… Well, my other father… he was really angry apparently. I know because I overheard him when I was a little bit older talking about it, throwing accusations against mother. She always held steadfast that I was his son. But I knew… I knew something wasn’t right. The way I looked, my eyes…” Again he studied his father’s face and grinned, “I have your eyes. Then it was the love of music. Father accepted that because of mother but the other things… The love for weird, unnatural things… He didn’t accept that one bit. I guess he always knew.” Erik brushed back his hairline again, touching the blemish gently.
“I’m sorry that… That I wasn’t there for you. It must’ve been very confusing growing up. Especially with a little bit of me in you.” He joked, though it sounded hollow.
“A lot of you. I realise now how similar I am to you.” Gustave rested his head back on his father’s chest. “But… I’m happy I finally understand everything now. Yet… What happens now?”
“Well… You’ll probably have to go back to Paris with your father. As for your mother I don’t know-” His voice broke and he bit the inside of his lip as he stared out across the ocean, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“You loved her, didn’t you?” Erik nodded and sighed.
“More than anything.”
“I think… I think she loved you to. This will sound odd but she always told me about this character called ‘The Angel of Music’ and how he saved her life when she was at the opera house. Was… Was that you?”
“I… Well it’s a long story but yes, it was.” Erik murmured, stunned that Christine had disguised their time at the opera house as childhood stories for their son. He felt Gustave nod against his chest and when he spoke again, it truly shocked him.
“Do you think I could stay here with you? I don’t want to go back to Paris.”
“I… You’d really want that? To stay with me? Gustave… I’d love nothing more. I’ve already missed ten years of your life and I don’t want to miss any more. But you must understand, I don’t really have any say in this. It’s down to your other father and I know he will be very against the idea.”
“But if I beg him?”
“We will see what we can do. For now… Let’s just savour the moments we can have together.”
They remained sitting there, on the edge of the jetty, son in his fathers lap as they gazed across the ocean. Both of them were hurting, their hearts raw but it was relief to both that they had each other and they clung to each other like lifelines. It seemed that Gustave did not want to let go and Erik was fine with this, for the shock he still felt after Christine’s death still rocked him to the core. In fact, he was still half convinced that she still lived but the other, more stern half berated him and told him that she was dead. Still, at least he hand tangible proof that something of her, something of them,was here and he knew that he would never let go of this blessing again.
An idea for the first chapter of a new story. Erik lives in America on Coney Island but doesn’t remember anything about who he used to be. More details to follow but wanted to know what you guys thought so far for an opening chapter?
The coarse sand beneath him was damp and slowly soaking into his trousers, but he did not care. He had grown used to the sensation now as he had been coming here every morning before sunrise for five years. Come rain or shine, the solitary figure would sit with the sentinels of dawn and wait for the world to wake. The man, who was called Erik, did not know why he felt compelled to come here every morning… Perhaps it was down to how it seemed to soothe his whirl wind of a mind or maybe… Maybe it was because that he felt like this was something forbidden for him, to enjoy something as beautiful as the rising sun that had just began to crest the horizon. The sky then turned into a spectrum of colour as the pearly mist that had lingered over the sea was penetrated by the warm, persimmon light of the sun. Golden hues bled like fire, scattering and stretching across the vast expanse of water and made the twilight hues vanish in a blink. A light breeze picked up and caressed his bare face as his mask sat haphazardly in the sand. Erik sighed happily at its touch and allowed himself to bask in the weak warmth as a shard of sunlight exploded over his body. Silence emanated around him, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the waves over the pock holed rock pools in front of him.
The sky grew stronger in colour as streaks of tangerine and pink unfurled themselves across the haziness and Erik found himself wishing that time would stop. This moment always gave him great peace and dulled the aching lump of mass that thumped wearily away behind his rib cage. Erik hadn’t quite felt the same ever since he had woken up from a terrible accident seven years ago, and didn’t know who he was. It had taken a lot of time and patience for him to gain some semblance of who he was and eventually, some of his memories did return. His long, sordid childhood was the first thing to come flooding back to him and he didn’t talk to anyone for weeks, not even his constant companion, Nadir. The second thing that reminded him of who he used to be was his time spent in Persia, though even that was foggy in places. Anything after that however… He had no idea. Nadir had only told him that he had lived in Paris, and that was that. He seemed intent not to remind Erik of who he used to be and Erik only grew more bewildered as to why.
The ache in his body grew stronger and the moment of peace passed by. Suddenly, birdsong exploded around him in a cacophonous melody and he flinched at the shrillness. The sun was now too high, the birds too loud and the world behind him burst into life just as he and the sentinels of dawn had found peace. How ironic, that the world was wide awake and yet deep down, he was fast asleep, a vast chapter of his life locked away. As the sun began to swell, he lost his focus and instead stared across the vast emptiness of the ocean and wondered about the life he had left behind. A dull hollowness ached in his bones as he grew more agitated, annoyed that he had allowed himself to become so despondent when for once he was at peace. He a frustrated grunt, he swiped up the mask and grabbed his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder. The mask felt heavy in his hand and he stared at in anger. Again, that was one thing he remembered almost immediately. He wondered if he would ever forget about the monstrosity that claimed most of his face. Erik toyed with the object, half tempted to through it into the ocean but instead, he shook off any remaining sand and placed it over his face.
Suddenly, everything seemed dimmer, even if the sun was a brilliant gold ball in the sky. He felt lost. Lost in world that was so familiar and yet foreign to him and he yearned to know more about the almost non existent life he had left behind. Instead, he now got up from his position and walked towards the life he had fabricated for himself. A world that he had created for people like him to live and perform without any infliction of cruelty, his home.
A place where he didn’t feel like he truly belonged.
really thinking about re writing the whole love never dies story because honestly it’s a trash fire of a story and ALW could’ve done soooooo much better.
I wonder how people see us on the outside. Do they see the way I’m always smiling with you and clinging to your arm? Do they think of the small misunderstandings we have? Or even the constant hearts racing for each other?
Do you think they just know that we’re meant to be by the way i look at you?
the difference between anna’s christine in the aussie LND production and sierra’s christine in the london production is really interesting.
for anna, her christine seems much more hesitant about the phantom in her life again. you can see it in her body language and face. sierra’s christine (though it’s hard to tell in dogshit bootlegs) is more okay with it, and seems to love him more, if that makes sense. she doesn’t flinch away from the phantom’s touch like anna’s christine does. it’s really cool to see how different actresses can change the same character.
And that‘s why I like London and Sierra’s portrayal so much more. It doesn‘t make sense for Christine to flinch away from his touch as if she were scared or repulsed. She made the decision to seek him out more than 10 years ago. He chose to leave her. It makes a lot of sense for her to be angry, sad, melancholic, or hurt. But fearful like Anna? I don‘t really see it.
Christine: if I had a nickel for every time I was gaslighted by an evil guy in a mask I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice
I decided to introduce my friend (who only recently watched POTO for the first time) to Love Never Dies. Here are the best bits of her reaction:
Beneath a Moonless Sky:
“Ma’am, you literally f***** this man you need to stop fainting the moment he enters the room”
“She bang him with the mask on?”
“I know he’s got self-confidence issues but”
“Yeah if you don’t listen to the lyrics this is wonderful”
“This doesn’t make any sense”
*confused eyebrows*
[‘A woman and a man, no more and yet no less’] “What does that even mean?”
“It’s such a good song. If you listened to this in a foreign language it’d be beautiful.”
*incoherent wheezing*
“They’re both being so dramatic right now.”
“I still can’t believe this guy finally got the thing he’s been dreaming about for years and then he literally just LEFT?”
“He’s definitely just digging his thumb into her boob right now.”
“She’s really pretty though. They both are.” (and yes my friend is bi)
Devil Take the Hindmost:
[Erik pops up from behind the bar] *incoherent wheezing*
“Why the f-?”
“He’s definitely into, like, degrading people” (about the phantom)
“This man definitely acts like a dominant but he would probably fold” (again about the phantom)
“This is so gay- what?”
“There’s no need for them to be this close to each other.”
“They even fit the stereotype for gay couples with the tall dark one and the smaller blonde one… and their girl boss wife.”
[The phantom chokes Raoul] *snorts*
“He’s not even really trying to get out of this man’s grip right now” (about Raoul)
Beauty Underneath (as requested):
“It’s very dramatic”
“Why is he grabbing him like that?”
“Is this dude [Gustave] not like concerned at all that this guy…? I don’t know”
“This guy [Erik] just comes in and is like ‘look at all this strange sh*t’ and the kid is just like ‘cool!’”
[Demon skeleton horse thing appears] “Hello?”
“Who are these people?”
Friend: “Does he own a circus?” Me: “Yes?”
“That mirror thing is kinda resembling the torture chamber, no?”
“What is the finger-?” *sound of disgust* “No not the fingernails”
“At least this is a healthier outlet than torturing people.”
“Did [Erik] dress his son up in this little suit or is the kid already as extra as his dad?”
“It’s a mermaid! Not in water. Probably dying.”
[Gustave screams upon seeing Erik’s face] “It was a good scream- it was a little rude, but uh. This dude [Gustave] seriously went around like ‘oh yeah I like all this scary sh*t’ then screams in his face… like???”
Til I Hear You Sing:
“So dramatic”
“Sad boi”
“Does he have a portrait of her?” *wheezing*“She looks like Mary- this looks like a religious posing. Did he paint this?”
“He’s like a dramatic golden retriever boy that also has a lot of trauma.”
[Excellent note by Ben Lewis] “Ooh that was good”
“He’s a really good singer”
“He really is like so dramatic but this is all his doing, he literally could’ve had a happily ever after with this woman but he was like ‘oh I’m so ashamed I slept with her’”
meg, he said, apropos as always of nothing, what are we? What is this.
how, she wonders - not for the first or fiftieth time - is such a sensitive man so devoid of perception. his timing, in particular, is awful: sweat hardly cooled.
something about satisfaction makes him think.
something about being grounded in her arms unmoors him, leaves him adrift.
Pictures: Phantomopera, Ooppera Baletti, Madách Színház & fantom Opery social media. Teater Vanemuine (Gabriela Liivamägi). Musical.cz & Music Bulgaria Facebook. Shiki Theater Company (Akihito Abe). Performers instagrams (Manon Taris).
The hotel/balcony attire in the original West End production. The costume feature a white dressing gown worn over an ornate corset. I think this is both a nice nod to the original POTO design, as well as being a beautiful piece in its own right. Also a lot of structure for an all-white costume. Design: Bob Crowley.
The hotel/balcony attire in the original Australian production*. A lovely Art Nouveau piece with bell shaped skirt with train, and a fitted bodice with long sleeves. I like the play between the embroidered dotty sheer fabric and the heavy lace, both featuring a scrolly botanical motif. Looks like a period piece, as well as looking like a mature version of the Christine we once knew. Design: Gabriela Tylesova.
The hotel/balcony attire in the Copenhagen production. Now, they went a totally different route, emulating the Edwardian splendour. The dress consists of a corseted bodice and a bell shaped skirt. It is made of beaded and embroidered metallic lace over rich blue silk, creating a shimmering purple dress. It looked spectacular on stage. Design: Paul Farnsworth.
The Peacock dress, used for the title song in the original Australian production*. A corseted bodice, bell shaped skirt and a looooong detachable train, all made of bold blue silk decorated with beaded appliquées, bead fringe and pleated chiffon pieces. The front skirt has blue/black chiffon pieces, while the train also has a hint of black and green to give a sense of peacock feathers. An absolute statement piece! Design: Gabriela Tylesova.
The rust dress, used in Dear Old Friend in the original Australian production*. Another convincing period piece, showing the Edwardian love for tailor-mades; dress suits featuring impeccable tailoring in fitted bodices and smart skirts. This one is made of rust silk with dark rust scrolly embroidery, and with a black collar and a double row of buttons in front. Add a smart hat, and you’re rocking the scene. Design: Gabriela Tylesova.
*Costumes also used in Hamburg, Tokyo and the US Tour
