‘Phantom of the Paradise’ and My Full Circle Moment

You can go back to the past; you can’t live there

Like Taylor Swift, I have eras.

Unlike Taylor Swift, my eras don’t correspond to different albums but to various times in my life, such as when I was a small child, preteen, teen, and young adult, and also, the me involved with various jobs or comedy groups.

Every one of my eras saw a different version of me, and while the me of one era may build on another, rarely do these times merge.

On Friday night, my junior high me, the me that worked at the video store Vidiots as a youngish adult, and present me came together, and I had a full circle moment.

In Junior High, my friend Cynthia and I saw Phantom of the Paradise in the movie theater at least eight times. I would swear that we were thirteen years old, but the movie came out in 1974, so we had to be fourteen.

My memory is already starting to revise itself.

While Cynthia and I did our best to make this movie a hit, it was a box office bomb.

The Phantom of the Paradise, written and directed by Brian De Palma, is an updated version of the Opera Faust, with some Frankenstein and Psycho thrown in for good measure.

It’s a rock musical with a killer soundtrack written by Paul Williams. Tommy and Rocky Horror Picture Show wouldn’t come out until a year later, in 1975.

Phantom of the Paradise was ahead of its time. It should have made huge stars of the cast, including Paul Williams himself, William Finley, Gerrit Graham, and Jessica Harper.

A brief synopsis of the movie is an evil record executive, Swan (Williams,) betrays and torments a young composer, Winslow Leach (Finley,) who in turn sets out to destroy Swan, Swan’s new theater, and anybody who stands in his way.

Throw in some deals with the devil, a slight love story, some fun 1970s fashions, a rock and roll score, and enough special effects to make Paul Williams into a sex god (at least for preteens), and you’ve got a rollicking good time.

Is the movie sexist, homophobic, and at times, just plain wrong?

Yes, but it’s a reflection of the time and the culture.

Vidiots was an iconic video/DVD store in Santa Monica. I started working there as a clerk in 1991 and eventually became their Production Account Manager. My job involved billing all the studios, production companies, and businesses that would rent in bulk.

If a casting company needed all Nicole Kidman movies, we’d have to pull them, put them on account, and bill them at the end of the month.

The store had regular movie lovers who rented there and celebrities too. Vidiots had the well-earned reputation of having hard-to-find movies and T.V. shows.

Vidiots was often the only place to find an obscure title or cult film, and people came from all over the world. Vidiots was unique and special and about as far away from Blockbuster Video as it could be.

I enjoyed working there, making friends, and having memorable moments with famous actors. We put on shows, had important people in the film industry give talks, and came together in times of disaster such as the Northridge Earthquake in 1994.

Working there helped to increase my knowledge of film and television. I wouldn’t say I’m a cinephile, but I enjoy many movie genres, and I’m good at entertainment trivia.

I left the store in 2014 as streaming started destroying the video store model. The store struggled for a few years and, in 2017, closed its doors, but that wasn’t to be the end of Vidiots.

Vidiots was reborn with a new space, a new location, and as a non-profit in June of 2023. They remodeled an old theater and turned it into a space for screenings, movie rentals, special events, and a place for movie lovers to come together.

This week, Vidiots was celebrating its volunteers by screening movies they picked. While I was tempted to see Tommy (another one of my favorites), I couldn’t resist visiting the new vidiots to see Phantom of the Paradise.

To accompany me on my trip of conjoined eras was my friend Jill, whom I’ve known since 7th grade.

Walking through Vidiots’ door wasn’t like going back in time. This is truly a new space, and while there are a few things from the original store, like the signed video boxes on the wall, the emptied-out T.V. set for returns ( a different one, I think, from the original). A donor list that looks like old cassettes, there were very few reminders of the old store, specifically the old staff.

No, I didn’t say to the person scanning our tickets that I used to work for the old store.

What did feel like a blast from the past was the clientele. There was the same mix of old hipsters and young film freaks. There were so many people dressed in all black and Dr. Martens that it warmed my heart.

A big-headed guy sat right in front of me, and when my friend offered to change places with me, I said, “It’s okay; it’s not like I haven’t seen this movie hundreds of times.”

The big-headed aging punk turned around and said, “Yeah, me too,” but didn’t sink into his seat. Luckily, his friend, who had a normal-sized head, came and took his seat.

The screening was sold out, and clearly from the whoops, cheers, and applause, everyone had a great time.

In this moment of all my eras coming together, I didn’t feel like I was fourteen again or even thirty-one, but I did feel happiness. Here I was, laughing at the same lines Cynthia and I had laughed at nearly 50 years earlier and whisper-singing when I couldn’t hold back.

Vidiots is different than what it once was, and so am I. Phantom of the Paradise remains the same in all its campy 1970s glory, and it’s the way it remains the same that comforts and delights me.

What I felt that night was stronger and happier than only nostalgia — it reminded me of who I once was and who I am at my core.

Thank you for reading!