24: Phantom of the Auditorium
“The hum grew louder. The stage floor vibrated. We all heard the platform stop… I peered down into the opening — and gasped.”
First things first: Goosebumps #24, “Phantom of the Auditorium” has my name all over it.
Seriously, it feels like R.L. Stine wrote it for me. No, I haven’t read Gaston Leroux’s 1910 novel The Phantom of the Opera. Or seen Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical. But I love the 1925 film. Lon Chaney’s hideous visage as Erik, the Phantom, is one of horror’s most iconic images. So it’s nice to see Stine borrow from a story that’s so paramount to the genre, and bend it for a young audience.
But it’s not just the material that’s tapered to my tastes. The book’s main characters both love horror movies, and name-drop Poltergeist and Friday the 13th. And their friendship started when their mothers met at a bowling alley, which is where I hung out as a kid (shut up: we couldn’t afford hockey). So, yeah, this is the Goosebumps book I’ve been waiting for, and biases aside, it’s a hell of a good story.
When sixth-grade best buddies Brooke and Zeke land the starring roles of Esmerelda and the Phantom in their school play, they’re ecstatic. As mentioned, they love spooky stuff, and word in the drama club says the play is haunted. Seventy-two years ago, the kid playing the Phantom fell through the trapdoor in the stage during rehearsal and died. The play has been cursed ever since, and no one’s attempted to perform it until now.
Naturally, weird things start happening, and Brooke and Zeke discover a tunnel-way at the bottom of the trapdoor beneath the stage. It’s an obvious reference to Leroux’s Phantom living beneath a nineteenth-century Paris opera house, but it’s also a ploy. No, the Phantom of Woods Mills Middle School isn’t living beneath the stage, caught in some sort of underground purgatory. But a homeless man is. That’s right, the same man who’s been trying to sabotage the play to keep the students from finding his hideout.
Alas, the kids are disappointed but convinced the Phantom doesn’t exist. But then, on opening night, he shows up in a wonderfully written, visually dramatic scene. After knocking Zeke unconscious behind the stage, the notorious Phantom rises from the trapdoor in a swirl of light, fog, and applause to claim his moment once and for all. But he goes off script and in a grand monologue recalls the story of his death to an audience that eats it up. Unfortunately, as Brooke struggles to remove his mask, he again falls through the trapdoor, dying once more.
In the past I’ve criticized Stine for writing stories too layered for their 130 pages. But in “Phantom,” his web of characters, clever misdirects, and Inception premise of a phantom haunting a play about a phantom come together tactfully to fuel a captivating mystery. And that’s due largely to his strong expository setup; in the first few chapters, Stine lays the groundwork of the school legend so effectively that when Brooke and Zeke first venture down that trapdoor, the chills hit fast and pages turn faster.
Yes, there’s a lot to like about “Phantom of the Auditorium,” but overall, it’s a fun take on a timeless romantic horror story, reimagined and creatively tailored to a young audience. And it shows that even horror junkies can feel scared sometimes, a truth Stine brings to life effortlessly through Brooke’s character.
Bravo, Stine. This one’s a showstopper.
5/5 drops of Monster Blood.
