Ol' Matty is kicking back after some well earned dishonourably discharged R&R when he realises that the demon bear terrorising Paris might be somewhat his fault. When a wise cricket tries to give him advice, Ol' Matty heeds by destroying the plane and landing in the Paris Opera, toppling a chandelier into an innocent and aiding a kidnapping in one less-than-heroic swing. Realising that Gaston Leroux's famous alleged Opera Ghost has turned the Opera into a deadly extension of their devious self, Ol' Matty follows the Phantom to his lair hoping to find the bear, in truth, under the pale mask, and, if not, at the very least bust some ghosts. Ol' Matty finds adventure, torture, taverns, and barrels of fun with a pinch of gunpowder. And, of course, he might just find a Delicious Word Sandwich.
Published in 1910 by Gaston Leroux, a renowned investigative journalist, travel writer and sensational crime solver, The Phantom of the Opera became a surprise smash, blending sweeping melodrama and comic-book tier iconography with hard-boiled pulp and gothic literature styles that like a Phantom would haunt popular culture for better or worse evermore. It is a methodical novel rich with characterisations and goofy hyperbole that is ultimately more obsessed with the criminally insane and obsession itself than in heroic Parisian romances, which in spite of modern adaptations is its greatest asset according to Ol’ Matty.
Flying in his very own WW2 Bombing plane, Ol’ Matty rids himself of a pestering cricket by firing his pistol from inside the cockpit. You killed Jiminy and yourself in one shot. Not a hole in one, but certainly a hole in done. As in, you’re done. You get it. Needless to say, Ol’ Matty abandons the plane to crash wherever it may and finds himself falling into the lap of Paris, which is now under the dictating control of our hero’s arch-nemesis: Jim Pawsby, the Nazi, human handed, M16 wielding, unicycling demon bear. He’s a lot.
Swinging into action, quite literally, at the gilded end of a swashbuckler’s rope (a goddamn chandelier), Ol’ Matty causes it to fall on a patron, killing them, and finds his bloody entrance has called a ripe distraction for the infamous Opera Ghost to steal away with a beloved opera singer, Christine Daaé.
Feeling inexplicably partially responsible (“PARTIALLY”!?), Ol’ Matty pays homage to the almighty Bill Murray and prepares to go Opera Ghostbusting, although it is very, very possible that this devilish death’s headed spectre is really Jim Pawsby in disguise. After all, the plot is absurd enough to be perpetuated by a demon bear. Teaming up with the fine wine drinking Gaston Leroux, who really likes his name “Gaston”, a dork named Raoul, a mysterious figure known only as the Persian, and NOT Jiminy Cricket because he bloody shot the little guy, Ol’ Matty ventures to the lair of the Phantom to find the truth, justice and a slice of the redemption he doesn’t even know he needs.
All the same, Ol' Matty has created a delightfully devilish and delicious word sandwich with all the anger, obsession and defiance of Leroux’s iconic antihero, deciphering the ramblings of the hard drinking, gambling and brawling Gaston to find just how this pulp mystery gumshoed through the centuries (bread), venturing on a katabasis into introspective and sometimes cruel story (meat), meeting a complicated, tormented yet brilliant vengeful sociopath (cheese), tearing away the mask to discover the deathly themes (sauce) and then whatever damn well pleases fits with those ingredients He ain’t a chef. I think it’s his way of making sure he adds salad. Well, this time he had no interest in making friends on this adventure, let alone best friends, so I suppose that’s growth, too. Don’t get stuck in catacombs again, Ol’ Matty. The last time had pacing issues.
Love stories? Love hearing about the tales of old with Ol' Matty but want to know them yourself? Want to join the Book Club Sandwich but...
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