Erik, oh Erik. How could Christine have chosen that insipid Raoul (or his brother, Phillippe) over you? It might even have been worth living forever in the dark, by the lagoon below the Opera House, to be with you. . . . to listen to that voice, that beautiful dubbed voice. . . that beautiful accent. . . oh, Christine, how could you choose the Fockers over the Phantom? Erik, Erik, pick me instead? I know you murder people, but nobody’s perfect. Sometimes, I have those thoughts myself, although I haven’t your courage of conviction. And after hearing and watching this duet, I’d go anywhere with you. Oh Faust Erik. . . .

Ahem, um, excuse me, you were saying? (Blush) I tend to take anything that contains Charles Dance a bit seriously. Can you blame me? I mean, look at that chin. . . .Don’t worry; I wouldn’t really run away with Erik unless he asked me to in which case I’m gone, sorry kids .

I know that some people poke fun at this version, but I don’t care. Every time I see it, I entertain thoughts of. . . . well, never you mind.

Is it hot in here or is it just me?