Phantom of the Phantom of the Opera: Part 2

This article is Part 2 in a two-part series. Click here for Part 1.

1911: Rupert Julian, stage actor and war veteran from far-off New Zealand, arrived in America to star opposite stage royalty, Tyrone Power Sr., in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, a production that put him in contact with early movie mogul Lois Weber. As an actor, Weber moved across the worlds of both theatre and cinema, and her association with Power Sr. brought Julian into her orbit.

Returning to Hollywood, Weber brought Rupert and Rupert’s wife, Elsie, along, and soon the couple were picking up work in one and two-reelers, the precursors to feature films.

Early on, Julian was typecast as the society cad. The monied ne’er-do-well, always up to no good. Within a couple of years, the pair were directing, and their careers zipped along nicely amid the ascendent Hollywood production line.

But in 1918, with America’s entry into WWI, Julian had a million-dollar hit with The Kaiser. From playing cads to the most caddish of cads – the emperor of the Hun – it launched him into the front ranks of Hollywood’s directing class, able to pick whatever projects he wanted.

Julian brought productions in on time and on budget, pleasing studio heads, particularly Universal’s Carl Laemmle, who had steered the studio and star system toward industry standards.

Now, alongside his protege, Irving Thalberg, Laemmle implemented a new strategy: the producer as king. Directors would, ideally, become servile to the producer. And replaceable.

Erich Von Stroheim infuriated many producers with his continent-shifting belligerence and utter disregard for time and money efficiency… but he was a great director and his first couple of movies made bank.

During production of 1921’s Foolish Wives, Von Stroheim first butted heads with attack-dog Thalberg, but his position as leading man saved him. With 1923’s Merry-Go-Round, he promptly broke all promises to the studio. This time, however, he wasn’t the star.

Rupert Julian’s reliability and a mutual friend in Weber stood him in Laemmle’s good graces, and his success with Merry-Go-Round was swiftly followed by the enormous undertaking of The Phantom of the Opera.

There was no doubt who’d play Erik, The Phantom stalking the darker passages and corners of the Paris Opera House, preying on unwary stagehands and yearning for the love of ingenue, Christine.

Lon Chaney’s credits as various morally and physically corrupted outcasts had made him a huge star. Plus, he’d amassed one of the most impressive reputations in town. Not only was he adored by audiences and critics alike, but he was also beloved behind the scenes.

The atmosphere was tense, however. The studio was gambling $2,000,000 on the project and was filling its promotional material with as much info about it as possible. They placed whole-page articles in their magazine, Universal Weekly, focused solely on the film’s sets and costumes. One article boasted that technicians were sent to Paris to procure props, including a bed for the love interest, Christine, that had been the scene of a scandal between a dancer and the king of Portugal!

Chaney would’ve been feeling the pressure of delivering. In Universal’s star system, the movie, as far as the public was concerned, was on his shoulders. He had to give them something huge. On Phantom, his own makeup techniques would push him to the limit, using hooks and fishing wire to distort his features into the Phantom’s grotesque visage.

Enter Julian.

If Hollywood history is to be believed, it should come as no surprise that Julian and Chaney didn’t get on. In most pieces about Phantom, it’s all you’ll hear about Julian other than his being fired. However, it’s hard to disseminate exactly what caused the split.

Most intel comes from cameraman Charles Van Enger, a friend of Chaney’s. From what we know of their respective reputations, it can be gleaned that Julian was typically strict with his cast and crew, and that rubbed Chaney the wrong way. Maybe Julian was worse, given the enormity of the project. Maybe Elsie was unfairly branded an unwelcome presence this time.

The way he was written about, Chaney was a prince among men, which is rarely so with stars. Julian has had no one to buff up his legacy like that. Nonetheless, he was a Kiwi battler to a fault. One of his few defenders, actor Ruth Clifford, said: “He was extremely dignified […] and he was very, very strict.”¹

This has too often been used as a cue to dismiss Julian. Chaney ignored his directions; therefore, he didn’t direct the film. However, as expert Robert Catto has said: “… 75% of the director’s choices were made by the time they got to the set and were filming…”² All the costuming, set design, casting, the whole look had to be decided by Julian for the year or more before filming. He even pioneered the idea of having the score written during pre-production, bringing in composers to oversee preparations so they could wind the all-important score around it. This was something Julian had wanted to do for years.

His patrician manner on-set did him no favours, though. Filming wrapped and he was fired. Edward Sedgwick was hired to do re-shoots, but his work tested badly, and much of Julian’s footage was reinstated. The Phantom of the Opera was a huge success, but Julian drifted through other studios soon after, never regaining that level of prestige. His last and only sound film, 1930’s The Cat Creeps, brought him back to Universal, but he retired some years later.

It would be easy to lament Rupert Julian’s century-long obscurity, and it is true that he remains unfairly dismissed for his work on Phantom, but the truth is twofold: Firstly, he wasn’t a great director. His work is passable but unadventurous; secondly, he had an amazing life. He travelled the world and ascended the highest heights of the most amazing place on Earth at that time.

Julian retired to a comfortable Beverley Hills mansion, alongside his beloved, Elsie, before he died in 1943. All in, it doesn’t sound too bad from this angle.

¹interview from American Cinematographer, Sept 1989

²email to the author

Simon Kingsley-Holmes is a writer and stand-up who has reviewed movies for The Critic and Radio One 91FM in Dunedin. He is currently writing his first book all about New Zealand horror movies.