Date rapist of the Opera

Michael and I watched Phantom of the Opera tonight (sidebar: he's worried he's coming off as a "queen" in my posts. Any thoughts on this?). I saw this musical on stage back in 8th grade. At the time, I thought it was brilliant. To be fair, it is a visually stunning musical. But eventually the cheese factor became clear to me. Until tonight, I hadn't seen or heard the musical since the mid 90s. It all came back to me right away though. It's a typical over-the-top Andrew Lloyd Weber style show, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Here's my beef. As far as I can tell, the Phantom is taking advantage of this little Christine. Here's a girl who is under the impression she is receiving free voice lessons from an "angel of music" her dad promised would come to her after his death. How convenient for this pervert living under the opera house! He found himself a delusional dimwit dumb enough to believe this deformed freak is some kind of angel sent from above so she can take the opera world by storm. "Um hey, Christine? I got a message from your father. He said you should give head to the angel of music whenever he wants it. Yup. That's me, your angel of music. Now let's go in my basement and fulfill your father's wishes." To make matters worse, he LOCKS her in her room to keep her away from other men. He's not the phantom of the opera, he's the slave driver of the opera! "Sing for me my angel of music! Sing for me!!" Easy, killer. I'm singing! Didn't you hear my grating voice echoing through this tunnel on our gondola ride to your rape room? As far as I can tell, he gives her roofies when he finally gets her in the basement. I noticed that on her first trip down there, she was stuffed into about 4 layers of panty hose. When she wakes up with a roofie hangover, her scrawny stick legs are bare! That's date rape. Either that or a considerable editing error.
On the other hand... the phantom is hot. I don't think he'd need to weave that web of lies about my dad and an angel of music to get me in that basement.

And frankly, to be fair to the phantom, all this bitch needs to fall in love is a good duet partner. One minute she playing the sing-for-me-my-angel-of-music game with the freak in the basement. The next minute she's up on the roof with the long-hair rich boy going on about sharing each day, each night, each morning (that's ALL you ask me? What else is there devil woman?).