It was a cold afternoon of January, on the second day the sun had shone upon the skyscrapers of Manhattan since the beginning of year 2000. I was there, leaving a small diner of Times Square in NYC, in the company of the loveliest lady on that side of the planet. As we walked past the crowd we approached the entrance of one of the cosiest theatres of Broadway, the Majestic, where we were going to make a dream come true: savor each note, each moment, each chord of the one Musical that more than any other seemed to attract me...
the Phantom of the Opera
She and I took our seats in the velvet coated chairs and soon after the lights faded the dream began.
The Phantom of the Opera left a never fading mark in my life, but even more, that evening of music was unforgettable for its unspeakable magic that echoes through the years, resounding with my mind each time the notes of a song from that musical are played.
Ever since I stepped out of the Majestic, with the notes of the Music of the Night still playing in my mind, I knew I was going to remember that evening ever after. Every bit of it: from the magnificiency of the theatre to the perfection of the actors' performance; from the sound of the Phantom's voice to the picture of the abandoned mask on the stage; from my friend's partially red-died hair to her lovely friendly warmth nearby.
At last they made a movie of the Phantom. I didn't go to the theatre to see it, because they had the distasteful idea of daring to dub the songs and sing in Italian, when the beauty of the English verses of that musical is unmatched. I patiently waited for the DVD to be published, which happened to be done yesterday in Italy... and at last, tonight I saw the Phantom of the Opera again, listened to its notes once more, let it carry me away along its gothic charm.
But together with voices and the music there came the memories, surfacing again, brought once more back to vivid life by the scenes and the songs. And as I pitied the unforgiving fate of the scarred Phantom, as I breathed at the sound of that music, I saw that evening again, and fondly recalled with sweet nostalgia the friendly warmth of that lovely lady and the unforgettable present she gave me: the evening at the theatre, watching the Phantom of the Opera.
That night lives within me like the spirit of the Phantom's music in Christine's soul.
Thank you, lovely lady, for giving me The Phantom of the Opera.
