Just as monomaniacally, poor, lava-faced Eric-who has developed superhuman strength and karate ability while working out in the furnace room-prowls through the crawl spaces peeking protectively through vents and erupting murderously over repeated rape attempts on his blond darling (Kari Whitman). That’s often a point in the film’s favor. “Phantom” is monomaniacally constructed-not a single establishing shot to show us where we are-and the cinematography and sound are so muddy it’s hard to see and hear what’s going on. There’s a perfection of awfulness here that almost commands respect it can’t have been easy to keep going on this picture after a look or two at the rushes. Scarcely a scene isn’t gross or ridiculous, scarcely a performance isn’t forced or shallow, scarcely a line of dialogue isn’t a burbling, awkward cliche. Makers of bad movies should hold their breath in awe after watching this one. This schlock-slasher version of Leroux’s shocker-with the Phantom turned into a burned, vengeful teen prowling the air-tunnels of a posh suburban shopping mall-is, hands down, the most inept, pointless, puerile and inane. Now comes “Phantom of the Mall: Eric’s Revenge” (citywide). The 1925 Lon Chaney version remains the most famous Brian DePalma’s 1974 “Phantom of the Paradise” is the wildest and weirdest. For 64 years, Gaston Leroux’s 1911 grand guignol “The Phantom of the Opera” has been inspiring movie adaptations.
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