A newer and gorier version of the horror film classic of Gaston Leroux's classic tale. Christine Day is a young Broadway singer in New York City. She is auditioning for a show and comes across a piece of music written by an unknown music composer named Erik Destler nearly 100 years before. Erik had made a pack with the devil so the world would love his music, but the devil had one condition: that Erik's face would be horribly disfigured forever.
…Nowhere is this overindulgence as exciting but in his rendering here of Strauss' Death and Transfiguration. Charged with energy, depth, and intellect, this is one of the finest modern-day accounts of this work ever recorded. Telarc's sound is naturally clear and deep, which makes for a riveting compact disc all the way around. If you aren't familiar with Runnicles or his work, you deserve to know both him and it. This recording is not to be missed.
I've seen a lot of movies where the teenage guy parks in a car with the girl he loves. This is the first one where he parks with a girl in the car he loves. I knew guys like this in high school. They spent their lives customizing their cars. Their girlfriends were accessories who ranked higher, say, than foam-rubber dice, but lower than dual carbs. The car is named "Christine." It's a bright red 1958 Plymouth Fury, one of those cars that used to sponsor the Lawrence Welk Show, with tail fins that were ripped off for the "Jaws" ad campaign. This car should have been recalled, all right: to hell. It kills one guy and maims another before it's off the assembly line. Its original owner comes to a sad end in the front seat. And later, when Christine is 21 years old and rusting away, Arnie buys her.