Phantom Of The Paradise Page #3

A kind of pop cantata.

It was written

by the late Winslow Leach.

It is about a young man

who sells his soul to the devil...

...to become a pop star. It'll be

the first rock version of Faust.

We'll be recording

at the Paradise, Friday night.

Live on the Death Label.

-Mr. Pizer.

-Who's singing this? The Juicy Fruits?

No. They're a reflection of the past.

Gentlemen, I give you the future:

Beef.

Winslow. Good morning.

-What day is it?

-Thursday. Today is Thursday.

Breakfast.

A little pick-me-up.

How's it coming?

Don't mean to rush you.

Don't worry. It'll be finished.

How's Phoenix?

-I can't wait to hear her sing.

-Doing beautifully.

Can't wait to meet you, by the way.

Tomorrow's the big night.

Tomorrow night.

You better get a castrato.

This is a little out of my range.

-Something bothering you, Beef?

-This was scored for a chick.

-I'm not doing it in drag.

-You sing it better than any b*tch.

You don't know

how right you are, Goliath.

Okay, boys, from the bridge. Hit it.

-Who says I can't sing it?

-I like it. Keep working on it.

Drop an octave here,

change a line there.

Make it completely yours.

Let's go.

Far out.

Doesn't that change the whole thing?

You heard him. Make it yours. If it's

good, who cares what it's about?

Is that so?

-Nobody cares what it's about.

-Is that right?

-Who listens to lyrics anyway?

-Dry up, tubbo.

Seal it now.

This creep gets no comps.

My music! Swan!

-What was that?

-What was what?

I knew I shouldn't screw around

with a dead man's music. This place...

...is possessed.

-What are you talking about?

-Didn't you hear that shriek?

That was something trying to get out

of its premature grave.

Opening night prima donnas.

Look, iron man...

-...you're uptight. Take a shower.

-My pleasure...

...Bones.

Never sing my music again. Not here,

not anywhere. Do you understand?

Only Phoenix can sing my music.

Anyone else that tries, dies.

Let's see your tickets.

Everybody's got to have a ticket.

-Everybody have a ticket. You got one?

-Sure.

Get back in line.

Take care of the rest of the line.

Open the gate.

Where do you think

you're going, Tinkerbell?

-Cincinnati, to see my mother.

-You're gonna miss the show.

-There ain't gonna be no show.

-What?

Listen, Philbin.

There really is a phantom.

He was just in my shower.

He threatened my life. He said

his music is just for Phoenix.

Only she can sing it.

Anyone else who tries, dies.

What the hell are you talking about?

Look, Philbin, I am a professional.

I have been in this business

a long time.

I don't want to do the show.

Not because I got stage fright...

...but because some creature

from beyond doesn't want me to.

-Bullshit! What really happened?

-Can't you feel the vibes?

Bad, sport, real bad.

The karma's so thick,

you need an Aqua Lung to breathe.

-I know what it is.

-Why don't you tell me?

-Speed, that's what it is.

-What do you know about it?

You just pass it out, I take it.

I know drug-real from real-real.

-Do me a favor and take this.

-No, that'll bring me down.

You better come down.

You better get yourself together.

You got a show to do. It's

opening night. Can you still sing?

Sure, I can still sing.

The Phantom! Help!

Somebody get a fire extinguisher!

We want Beef! We want Beef!

We want Beef!

Somebody get rid of him.

-Get out there and sing.

-You're crazy.

Someone killed Beef so you could sing.

If you don't, there'll be more bodies.

-Is Beef...?

-Dead.

But let's not talk about that.

Let's talk about you.

I like your name.

We won't have to change it.

You're going to be a very big star.

We'll finish the cantata

tomorrow night...

...we'll record,

we'll go on tour and then...

There are no words to express

what you're going to become.

I'll do anything you want.

I owe you everything.

-Just give me that crowd again.

-Tomorrow night.

-Tomorrow night, they'll be yours.

-Mine.

And all I want...

...is your voice.

Is that all?

No.

We'll go to Swanage and celebrate.

I'll wait for you in the car.

He wouldn't listen to me.

-Where is she?

-Have you ever seen such a crowd?

-I never want to see another one.

-They've been entertained.

They never want the show to stop.

The Paradise is more magnificent

than I dreamed.

-How often is a star fried on-stage?

-It's an attraction.

-Don't hurt me.

-I would never hurt you, Phoenix.

You know me?

I'm Winslow. Remember?

-But Winslow is dead.

-No, not quite.

Who are you?

Why do you wear that mask?

Because Swan has taken

my voice, my music...

...and given me this. And now he

wants you. But you're all I have left.

No one will sing in this Paradise

again, no one will sing my Faust.

No one but you. Leave this place,

Swan'll destroy you too.

Why should I go with you? Don't you

hear them? Why should I give that up?

They want much more now.

More than you could ever give.

-I'll give them whatever they want.

-No!

Get your hands off me!

With that freak, the Paradise is done.

It's beginning.

Tomorrow, Phoenix will finish Faust.

There she is.

-Beef's killer is on the roof.

-Get the police.

Don't think about it. Tonight is

your night. I won't have it ruined.

Swanage.

What a foolish thing to do.

Didn't you read your contract closely?

See where it says

"terms of agreement"?

"This contract terminates with Swan."

No more suicides.

You gave up your right to rest

in peace when you signed the contract.

But if you do find a loophole,

forget it.

That stays sealed as long

as I have the power to bind you.

If I'm destroyed,

that gaping wound opens.

You might say we terminate together.

Now get back to work.

We need new love songs for Phoenix.

If you as much as say boo to anyone...

...you'll never see Phoenix again.

Oh, yes, about the love songs.

-Perhaps a duet?

-Never.

I'm under contract too.

Do we get to shoot pictures

of you tonight?

Is it true you'll wear

a mask on-stage?

How can we shoot you

if you have a mask?

You can't, fools.

It was genius, making

the end of the opera a wedding.

Faust, instead of burning in hell,

he gets the girl?

And you will be the priest.

I've never been a priest before.

That's terrific.

Swan, you remember me, don't you?

You do, don't you?

-Do you know him?

-We went steady in high school.

-You're old enough to be his mother.

-This was taken 20 years ago.

My God! He doesn't look any different.

Saturday...

...November 19, 1953.

Today, I have decided to kill myself.

In being the greatest showman

of my time...

...I'm recording live

for the Swan Archives.

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