The Phantom of the Opera (Muppets Meet the Classics, 1) - Softcover

Leroux, Gaston; Jackson, Erik Forrest

 
9780451534378: The Phantom of the Opera (Muppets Meet the Classics, 1)

Inhaltsangabe

"The mash-up is a fun, unexpectedly gripping meld of the Muppets' sensibility with an engrossing tale of love and jealousy." &mdash;<i>Entertainment Weekly<br><br></i>"There&rsquo;s no bones about it: young readers will get a taste of the classic in a fun and&#160;<i>humerus</i>&#160;way (wocka wocka)." &mdash;<i>Kirkus</i><br><br>"The fabulous wardrobe. The glorious sets. The hordes of back-up singers. The sheer grandeur and over-the-top theatricality of opera. It&rsquo;s the perfect setting for moi . . . and it&rsquo;s a gangbuster story, too." &mdash;Miss Piggy for&#160;<i>InStyle</i><br><br><b>What do you get when you cross the Muppets and the classics? A monster hit! Join Kermit, Miss Piggy, Uncle Deadly, and the other Muppets as they bring this gripping tale of mystery and suspense to life in their own hilarious way.</b><br><br>This classic tale of love, intrigue, and jealousy at the Paris Opera House, which has thrilled readers, musical lovers, and movie goers for more than a century, has now been reimagined with the cast of the Muppets. Readers will gasp, cry, laugh, and laugh again as Kermit (as Raoul), Miss Piggy (as Christine), Uncle Deadly (as the phantom), and the chickens (as the ballet corps) give a whole new meaning to the word "classic." This imaginative tale is sure to win the hearts of all Muppets fans, as well as fans of literary classics.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

This is <b>Erik Forrest Jackson</b>'s first book.&#160;He spent more than a decade as an executive editor for magazines including <i>Entertainment Weekly</i> and <i>InStyle</i>. As an award-winning dramatist, his work has been produced internationally and includes <i>Like a Billion Likes</i> (winner of the Southwest Playwriting Competition and the Chesley/Bumbalo Foundation Playwriting Award); the Neil Sedaka musical <i>Breaking Up Is Hard to Do</i>; <i>Carrie</i>, a black-comedy adaptation of Stephen King&rsquo;s novel; the Off Broadway comic thriller <i>Tell-Tale </i>(Best Play GLADD nomination); and <i>Cheers Live on Stage</i>, a theatrical version of the beloved TV series. His poems were featured in the Showtime film&#160;<i>The Escape</i>, starring Patrick Dempsey, and his articles have appeared in&#160;<i>Glamour</i>,&#160;<i>W</i>,&#160;<i>Real Simple</i>,&#160;<i>Allure</i>, and&#160;<i>Town &amp; Country</i>. He grew up in Texas, studied acting and poetry at the University of Southern California, and now lives in Harlem.&#160;<br><br><b>Gaston Leroux</b> (1868-1927) was born in Paris, France. After leaving school, Leroux worked as a clerk in a law office and, in his free time, began writing essays and short stories. By 1890 he had become a full-time journalist, sailing the world as a correspondent. He began writing novels in the early 1900s and was inspired by Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo, Jules Verne, and Edgar Allan Poe. In 1911, he wrote <i>The Phantom of the Opera</i>.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

<b>Chapter 1: A GHOST? LIKE, SERIOUSLY?!</b><br> &#160;<br> The terror had been steadily building for weeks. But that chilly January evening marked the turning point no one had anticipated.<br> &#160;<br> Of course, you are no doubt here for the now-legendary tale of a particular pig and her fearless frog. Rest assured, it&rsquo;s a tale you&rsquo;ll get in full. But as with all stage-worthy dramas presented inside the fabled Paris Opera House, it&rsquo;s traditional to have a brief bit of scene setting in order to build anticipation for the leading players to step into the spotlight.<br> &#160;<br> I must confess that while I&rsquo;m not exactly traditional, I am indeed a sucker for a soup&ccedil;on of suspense.<br> &#160;<br> So it was on that night, just days after the start of the new year, Monsieur J.P. Grosse was throwing a final gala performance to celebrate his retirement. The gruff impresario, with his plump, pear-shaped head and caterpillar mustache, had been for the last thirty years the manager of the Opera House. But Grosse said that putting up with the fragile egos of the renowned institution&rsquo;s persnickety performers was &ldquo;durn near exhausting&rdquo; and he&rsquo;d had enough of walking on eggshells&mdash;literally. &ldquo;Someone&rsquo;s <i>got</i> to start sweeping up after the Swedish Chef, y&rsquo;all,&rdquo; he fumed.<br> &#160;<br> Well, that would all be another manager&rsquo;s headache now. He was rightly relieved that his days of coddling were nearly over&mdash;but there <i>was</i> one little lady he would miss: Janice Sorelli, the day&rsquo;s reigning diva of dance and one of the Opera&rsquo;s biggest draws. Her performances as prima ballerina left the normally verbose Grosse blissfully speechless. Ditto for Johnny Fiama, the Opera&rsquo;s leading baritone, with whom she frequently shared the stage but whose romantic intentions she barely noticed.<br> &#160;<br> The free-spirited Janice paid no mind to the public&rsquo;s praise, or to the adolescent crushes of her costars. She was focused on higher planes of existence.<br> &#160;<br> Besides, she already had her eye on a debonair society guy: a handsome frog named Constantine Philippe Georges Marie Comte de Chagny, who had the, like, <i>cutest</i> Russian accent and an adorable mole on his right upper lip. Ironically, Janice&rsquo;s infatuation with the amphibian made Johnny Fiama green with envy.<br> &#160;<br> Tonight, as the gala progressed onstage, Janice was in her serene and spartan dressing room purifying the air with a white-sage smudge stick. The floor was covered in overlapping Indian rugs, and several beanbags were strewn about for seating. On her dressing table she displayed a collection of multicolored crystals, a Chianti bottle with a candle in its neck, and a &ldquo;Save the Whales&rdquo; petition she&rsquo;d been circulating.<br> &#160;<br> Clad in a denim miniskirt, flower-print poncho, and macram&eacute; choker, her blond hair pulled into a jaunty side pony, Janice waved a feather to spread the smoke from the smoldering herbs into all the corners. She&rsquo;d performed a groovy improvised farewell dance as the gala&rsquo;s curtain-raiser and was ready to mellow out. When she was done smudging, she gently tamped the bundle into an oyster shell on her dressing table, snuffing it, and took a seat in lotus pose on her yoga mat. Content in her solitude, she breathed deeply and began to chant &ldquo;om&rdquo; on her way into meditation.<br> &#160;<br> Suddenly into her dressing room flocked half a dozen svelte young chickens that had come up from the stage after dancing <i>La Pulcina Piccola</i>. They flapped in amid great confusion and a flurry of feathers, some breaking into forced nervous laughter, others letting out sharp squawks and <i>bawwwwwwks</i> of fear.<br> &#160;<br> Behind them was brash Johnny Fiama, in his doublet and tights, who&rsquo;d followed their act with an aria, as well as Pepino Rodrigo Serrano Gonzales, a suave king prawn from Milan. Tireless Pep&eacute; had first made his name as a stage manager in the opera houses of Spain, where his multiple limbs had proven essential in such a multitasking role.<br> &#160;<br> Startled out of her becalmed state, Janice exclaimed, &ldquo;<i>Ooooommmmmmm</i>-my gosh!&rdquo; She staggered to her feet and took in the excited mass. &ldquo;Like, wow.&rdquo;<br> &#160;<br> The young chicks of the <i>corps</i> marveled at the space, for they were accustomed to being lodged in cramped crates where they spent their time clucking and quarreling, snacking on gnats and the occasional gravel pebble until their nightly half-hour calls.<br> &#160;<br> As for Johnny, he was happy in any room with a mirror. Currently, he was staring out from beneath his thick, expressive brows into the looking glass over Janice&rsquo;s dressing table, smoothing his black hair back from his prominent widow&rsquo;s peak, and trying to entice the bohemian babe to glance his way.<br> &#160;<br> But Janice was deliberately ignoring him. She was very superstitious, as were many theater folk, and one of her beliefs was that if you looked into a mirror for too long, it could steal your soul. She didn&rsquo;t want to risk witnessing something that grody.<br> &#160;<br> It was Camilla&mdash;the little chick with the forget-me-not eyes and fetching rose-red wattle&mdash;who in a trembling voice finally gave Janice the explanation for the kerfuffle. &ldquo;Bock bock BEGOWWWK,&rdquo; Camilla squawked. Then, with a <i>fouett&eacute; rond de jambe en tournant</i>, the dancer swiftly leaped for the dressing-room door. When she landed, she extended a graceful wing and locked the door.<br> &#160;<br> &ldquo;<i>Muy</i> bouncy, Camilla,&rdquo; said Pep&eacute; in his charming Spanish accent. &ldquo;What month were joo hatched?&rdquo;<br> &#160;<br> Camilla told him April.<br> &#160;<br> &ldquo;S&iacute;, of course&mdash;a spring chicken.&rdquo;<br> &#160;<br> &ldquo;Bock bock BEGOWWWK,&rdquo; Camilla squawked again.<br> &#160;<br> Janice swept aside her long blond bangs, peered at the petrified chick, and said, &ldquo;Like, what do you mean you actually saw a ghost?&rdquo;<br> &#160;<br> Janice wished she could laugh off Camilla&rsquo;s creeped-out peep, but she shuddered when she heard it. &ldquo;So, like, rilly?&rdquo; she queried. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve, like, actually <i>eyeballed</i> this phantom you&rsquo;re all going on about?&rdquo;<br> &#160;<br> Breathless little Camilla nodded. Her twig-like legs were at that moment giving way beneath her, and she dropped with a moan onto a beanbag and promptly laid an egg. Pep&eacute; scooped it up with one of his four hands, since J.P. Grosse had been on everyone&rsquo;s cases about the shells (plus the prawn could use it to whip up a nice flan later).<br> &#160;<br> Once Johnny was satisfied that he&rsquo;d found his best angle in the mirror, he said, &ldquo;Personally, I feel kinda sorry for that ghost. He&rsquo;s so homely, he should be listed in the <i>Guinness Book of Ewwwww</i>.&rdquo;<br> &#160;<br> Janice turned to Johnny. &ldquo;So you saw him, too?&rdquo;<br>...

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