A FIGHT AT THE OPERA
One sunny afternoon in 1985 I found myself at a loose end in the Big Apple. I was meandering past a bookstall on Fifth Avenue when my eye was caught by a copy of of Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom Of The Opera. I parted with 50 cents, headed back to the Ritz-Carlton, where we were holed up, and got stuck into the tome. I had an epiphany. The Phantom Of The Opera could be a passionate story of unrequited love. During rehearsals the following year there was what might be described as an ‘incident’. Producer Cameron Mackintosh, leading man Michael Crawford, and I were driving to the theatre in London. Michael said that he wanted his performance of The Point Of No Return to be pre-recorded because he performed the song with a hood over his face. He thought he’d sound muffled. Cameron went tonto, and said that for the money he was earning, Michael could at least sing his big second-act song live. Did he want to ‘phone in’ his performance? By now we were stuck in a traffic jam. Michael yelled, ‘How dare you!’ whereupon producer and leading man leapt onto the pavement and a few astonished tourists savoured a mini bout of fisticuffs. I, being a pacifist, stayed in the car. The sight of the traffic clearing and the car receding with me in it mouthing, ‘May the best man win’ calmed things down. We drove to Her Majesty’s Theatre in silence. The topic was never raised again.