Maury Yeston and Arthur Kopit’s Phantom survives despite oppression from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s blockbuster version.

Phantom
Walnut Street Theatre, 825 Walnut St., through Jan. 9, 215-574-3550

In the theater, as in life, no good deed goes unpunished. In the late 1980s, composer-lyricist Maury Yeston and playwright Arthur Kopit began work on a musical version of Gaston Leroux’s Phantom of the Opera. Having secured the American rights, the two were determined to take their time and gently rework the source material in a way that would humanize the principal character. Meanwhile, a continent away (and unbeknownst to Yeston and Kopit), Andrew Lloyd Webber and director Harold Prince were also adapting Phantom, and — content to stick more closely to Leroux’s structure — their musical made it to the stage first. As everyone knows, the Webber/Prince musical became an overnight blockbuster, soon making its grandiose way to Broadway where it has become a permanent tourist attraction, not unlike the Statue of Liberty or Luna Park. Yeston and Kopit saw their care rewarded when their version of Phantom was effectively blocked from a major New York production.

Yeston and Kopit may yet have the last laugh. It is unlikely that this Phantom (premiered in Houston in 1991) will ever see Broadway and reap the Tony Awards that to the public remain the imprimatur of theatrical significance. But the show has become a favorite of smaller regional theaters anxious to capitalize on the popularity of Phantom of the Opera but prohibited from producing the Webber/Prince version.

And I can’t imagine that audiences coming to this Phantom will be disappointed, because it’s a far finer work: more intelligent and wittier and with a stronger musical score. Kopit and Yeston’s original goal — to make of Phantom something more than mere melodrama — has yielded a sweet if quirky take on the piece. This Phantom is a would-be opera singer whose promising voice wasn’t enough to offset the horror of his facial deformity. He lives in isolation with opera — his only comfort — until he meets soprano Christine Daee, who kindles his hope for the potential of musical and emotional fulfillment. Some of the show is genuinely moving, and Kopit’s smart book even offers a bit of welcome humor to leaven the sentiment (when the Phantom suggests that his was "not a good face for a tenor," the honest reply is "not even for a baritone"). Yeston’s lyrics aren’t in quite the same class, but as compensation his score is richly melodic, lively and almost too varied. The composer appears determined to showcase every possible kind of song: An effective opera parody is followed by a Paris bistro sequence that sounds like it’s straight from Gigi. Moments later, we have a snappy duet that seems to come from a ’50s MGM movie (we’re expecting to see Donald O’Connor and Mitzi Gaynor), and so on. Still, when was the last time you could complain that a musical was too tuneful?

Yeston and Kopit’s Phantom takes chances. It deserves an interpretation that similarly is brave enough to reinvent a new visual world for the old story, but here is where the Walnut Street production (under Charles Abbott’s direction) falters. Abbott instead indulges in baroque overkill, never leaving well enough alone. The stage is so filled with cheesy painted backdrops, rolling palettes of scenery, a catwalk, stairways and (literally) smoke and mirrors that the audience is disoriented: We hardly ever know where we are. Not content to stick with one identifying mask, the Phantom owns no fewer than a dozen, ranging from a simple white model to elaborately bejeweled pieces out of Eyes Wide Shut (there’s even a mask worn under these masks — pretty snazzy duds for a guy who doesn’t get out much). The line between melodrama and camp is always fine, but here it sometimes vanishes altogether and it’s not clear whether this is something Abbott has sought or simply an unwelcome audience response to the production’s excesses. Happily, the performers fare better. Ann Arvia dines out on the role of Carlotta, the evil prima donna. Kristin Carbone’s Christine shows off pretty high notes and a sunny personality that stops just short of simpering. And Nat Chandler’s Phantom is pleasingly restrained, with a lovely and unforced baritone.

In the end, the production’s limitations don’t overshadow the quality of Yeston’s music and Kopit’s book, and I’m confident that audiences will enjoy themselves. But there should be more here — or perhaps less — than meets the eye.