Erik then reveals that he has never received a kiss - not even from his mother - and is quite overwhelmed with equal parts sadness and joy. In the novel, when Erik is alone with Christine - away from her suitor, Raoul (whom Erik has imprisoned) - he lifts his mask, revealing his deformity, and kisses her on the forehead. Here’s where the novel and its many adaptations differ. Hideous boy will stand before beautiful girl, and all will be revealed.īut all what? Disgust? Pity? Overwhelming love? Minor characters are literally disposed of, and the main characters eventually find themselves at a pivotal moment when the mask will come off. So he waits, secretly aiding Christine is her career. But he knows himself to be so deformed that Christine will be repulsed by him. The tale is familiar (well, to people like me it is): Erik hears Christine sing, and is captivated. In the gothic tradition to which Leroux’s novel belongs (along with all the adaptations that come later), the masked face is definitely romanticized. THE NOVEL (1910)įor Leroux, the mask as symbol is quite complex in addition to having his phantom, Erik, hide a hideous visage, Leroux writes that “none will ever be a true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows and one of sadness, boredom, or indifference over his inward joy.” We are challenged to confront that we all wear masks - not just the ghost of the Opera house that longs for the beautiful Christine.

But the physicial mask that hides the horrible, or a face to be pitied (or both)? That’s unique to Romantic fiction. Carl Jung would say those are masks of the persona: the ego adapting to its circumstances. Gaston Leroux’s 1910 novel, The Phantom of the Opera, has been filmed at least a half a dozen times, turned into a very successful Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, and used as inspiration for one of the most ubiquitous halloween masks.

Phantom of the opera mask