LONDON

Play and Players, Robert Gore Langton

If you didn’t know, a thousand guesses wouldn’t exact the name of Michael Crawford from behind the half mask. In stature, poise and unhammed ghoulishness he is superb; only a mellifluous singing voice betrays his identity.

The Guardian, Michael Billington

Michael Crawford as the Phantom, above all, brings out the character’s solitary pathos rather than his demonic horror. It is the humanity under the mask that seizes the attention, not least when his flickering, desperate hands suddenly emerge from behind an Angel of Music hovering over the lovers on the Opera House rooftop.

The Boston Globe, Kevin Kelly

Michael Crawford is magical as the phantom (he vanishes but he’s indelible.) And, believe me, when he cries out to Christine at the very end ("You alone can make my song take flight, it’s over now, the music of the night…,") your heart will skip a beat. Crawford sings and acts eloquently. It’s the performance of his life.

The Christian Science Monitor, Hilary DeVries

But it remains the province of Mr. Crawford to deliver the play’s emotional punch—to make us care about the man behind the mask. And it is here that Crawford’s controlled, utterly self-respecting Phantom works a particular magic. If Sarah Brightman (despite the crystal clarity of her soprano) is a bit wooden as Christine, the love object and toast of Paris, or Steve Barton a bit too plastic to be the rival Vicomte, then Crawford’s intensely human Phantom is the supple hinge upon with the production successfully swings.

The Chicago Tribune, Matthew Wolf

Bjornson’s set packs in as many visual allusions as the score does musical ones. Andrew Bridge’s lighting pays apt visual homage to the dark emotions of the piece. That those emotions are vividly conveyed is due to the star performance of Michael Crawford, the British performer who was a youthful leading man in the 1960s (The Knack and Hello, Dolly!) and has since headlined long-running stage musicals, including Barnum. It is Crawford who dominates the show with his powerful acting.

NEW YORK

The New York Times, Frank Rich

Aside from the stunts and set changes, the evening’s histrionic peaks are Mr. Crawford’s entrances—one of which is the slender excuse for Ms. Bjornson’s most dazzling display of Technicolor splendor, the masked ball (Masquerade) that opens Act II. Mr. Crawford’s appearances are eagerly anticipated, not because he’s really scary but because his acting gives Phantom most of what emotional heat it has. His face obscured by a half-mask—no minor impediment—Mr. Crawford uses a booming, expressive voice and sensuous hands to convey his desire for Christine. His Act I declaration of love, The Music of the Night—in which the Phantom calls on his musical prowess to bewitch the heroine—proves as much a rape as a seduction. Stripped of the mask an act later to wither into a crestfallen, sweaty, cadaverous misfit, he makes a pitiful sight while clutching his beloved’s discarded wedding veil. Those who visit the Majestic expecting only to applaud a chandelier—or who have 20-year-old impressions of Mr. Crawford as the lightweight screen juvenile of The Knack and Hello, Dolly!—will be stunned by the force of his Phantom.

The Los Angeles Times, Dan Sullivan

Divorced from some of the boring things he has to say, Crawford’s phantom is also impressive. We see that he truly does adore Christine, not just as a beautiful young woman, but as the embodiment of the Spirit of Music, sacred to him—more sacred than to those counting up the house in the offices above. This phantom kills with reluctance, only when there is no other way to make his point. What he most wants in the world is to be left alone, with his bride and his art. Without quite siding with Crawford’s phantom, we can see his point. It’s a soulful and sympathetic characterization, yet still a kinky one. Crawford truly enjoys making people dance to his tune—it is his revenge for having been born with a face like that.

The Boston Globe, Kevin Kelly

The performances are breathtaking (and Tony proof.) Michael Crawford’s phantom terrifies and wins you at one and the same time, whether howling rage or, finally, cowering in the force of Christine’ compassion ("Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?") he is mesmerizing. Crawford wears a white half-masque most of the evening, but the beauty and the pain are always clearly revealed. When he sings the last words: "You alone can make my song take flight—it’s over now, the music of the night," I tell you, you’ll be chilled to the bone.

The Washington Post, David Richards

The title role is certainly the kind most actors only dream of. Crawford invests it with horror and heartbreak. He has a stunning physical presence that seems to mutate with the mood of the moment. At a lavish masked ball, he looms among the guest with majestic ferocity—death in a red plume. Yet, alone in his lair at the end, he looks spindly and shrunken—a pathetic schoolmaster abandoned by his favorite pupil. The show does not give him much of a past—neither does Leroux, for that matter, other than to suggest that his deformities made him an outcast even in the cradle. Crawford, however, seems to be operating with a secret knowledge of the creature’s biography. There is a wholeness to the portrayal that goes beyond the libretto’s dictates and—strange as it may sound—a fragility that is uncommon in rampaging monsters. This will be, no doubt, the performance to beat at Tony time.

The Christian Science Monitor, John Beaufort

Thanks particularly to Mr. Crawford’s heartfelt Phantom, the tale of a monster who falls in love with his beautiful protégé rises above the level of mer sentimental escapism to tug at the heartstrings. Whether he is sardonically threatening the opera’s block-headed new impresarios or tenderly wooing Christine, Crawford creates a creature both frightening and vulnerable, a grotesque whose mesmerizing power springs alike from the mystery of his origins and his role as the uncrowned king of the subterranean realm beneath the opera house. Crawford soars vocally with the emotion of the music and of Charles Hart’s lyrics.

The Chicago Tribune, Richard Christiansen

But the unquestioned star of this production is Michael Crawford, who brings to the musicals’ title role a range of passion and poetry that moves it from stock melodrama to real drama. Crawford, 45, a veteran of musicals in the theater (Barnum) and the movies (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum) has deepened and broadened the range of his naturally light voice, so that aided by the rich orchestrations of Lloyd Webber and David Cullen, he is able both to caress and boom out the melody of his big song, The Music of the Night, with enormous power. He is not on stage all that often in Phantom, but he makes his presence felt from the moment he magically appears behind Christine’s dressing-room mirror, wrapped in a black cloak and wearing his white mask. His is a performance of grand proportions that never tips into grandiosity. His gestures are big, and his emotions are played full out, as befitting a 19^th Century style of operatic acting, but he invests his stiff, painful walk with noble grace, and his final cry when he realizes that he has lost Christine forever is unforgettably eerie. Through such methods he makes palpable the agony that the detailed makeup of his scarred face depicts.

The Star-Ledger, William A. Raidy

And it is here in the portrayal of that touching unrequited love that Michael Crawford rises to brilliance as the masked, disfigured "phantom".... Crawford softly croons his music in an exceptionally unusual tenor.... The show in fact, as far as performance goes, BELONGS to Michael Crawford. He is quite unforgettable!

LOS ANGELES

The Los Angeles Times, Dan Sullivan

But Phantom is perfectly serious about its phantom, whom Michael Crawford plays even more quietly and intensely at the Ahmanson than he did on Broadway. As for the rest of the presentation—scrupulously managed by director Harold Prince--no one could accuse Michael Crawford of giving a canned performance. Crawford’s crepuscular voice and his lynx-like moves do stir sympathy for our poor benighted Phantom, and you have to respond to his commitment as a performer—he couldn’t give more to this part if it were written by Dante. Crawford’s Phantom combines size and intimacy in a way that only a very experienced musical theater performer could achieve. He comes close to us, and yet he brings off the grad gesture. The final renunciation scene is especially well-judged.

Los Angeles Herald Examiner, Richard Stayton

What makes this musical so spellbinding, so emotionally moving, so unforgettable, can be summed up in two words: Michael Crawford. His genius as the disfigured, lovesick composer haunting the Paris Opera is uncanny. It’s one of the great performances of our era. Considering that his face is almost constantly hidden behind a half-mask, that he must act under hats and capes, it’s a miracle that Crawford still projects a poignant vulnerability and sexual charisma. Just with his hands he orchestrates a universe of feelings. I can’t imagine seeing The Phantom without him. He was brilliant in London, brilliant in New York, and now brilliant in L.A.

This is not a review. These are a fan's notes. I apologize... I've fallen under the spell of the mysterious masked man...What makes this musical so spell-binding, so emotionally moving, so unforgettable, can be summed up in two words: Michael Crawford.

L.A. Review, Peter Vogt

The production boasts several particular glories, chief among which are the beautiful settings and costumes of Maria Bjornson, breathtaking in their opulence and detail, and the extraordinary and memorable performance of Michael Crawford in the title role. Mr. Crawford, always a generous artist, is giving what is almost always in the theatre referred to as "The performance of a lifetime," playing "The role he was born to play." Richly, beautifully sung and acted, Crawford’s Phantom holds the stage even when he is elsewhere. This twisted, perverse monster is given almost tragic dimension in the actor’s deeply felt characterization. It is a contained, even restrained performance of a larger-than-life character who is not fully revealed until the very last moments of the play. With a passionate cry of need and loss, Crawford will simply break your heart. He is wonderful.

Variety, Gray

The Phantom is not a foolproof part, but close to it: Seductive, wrathful and ultimately noble, he’s the only multidimensional character in the play. Crawford gets full value and them some out of the role, bringing to the part a wistful eccentric quality that is haunting.

The Hollywood Reporter, Duane Byrge

The Phantom’s manic anguish and the heightened love are purely and resonantly realized by Michael Crawford’s beautiful and towering voice. Crawford’s glorious version of the popular "The Music of the Night" is a heart-wrenching triumph.

The Daily News, Tom Jacobs

To paraphrase Clint Eastwood and Oliver North, The Phantom of the Opera, the Tony Award-winning musical that made its West Coast debut at the Ahmanson Theatre Wednesday night, is a mixture of the good, the bad and the ugly. The good: the stunning set designs of Maria Bjornson. The superb lighting of Andrew Bridge. The sharp direction of Harold Prince and choreography of Gillian Lynne. And the magnificent performance of Michael Crawford. It’s impossible not to be moved at the image of the phantom clutching his beloved’s veil, realizing their love can never be. (It’s doubly impossible when he is portrayed by Michael Crawford, who never lets the monster’s anguish degenerate into self-pity.) Crawford isn’t on stage all that much, but that—along with the fact that his face is partially covered for most of the play—makes the impact of his performance all the more impressive. Mostly he does it with his voice; he turns his songs into eloquent please for love and understanding.

The Valley Vantage, Theda Kleinhans Reichman

Crawford has his gestures perfected to an art, having the lead role in London and New York. Here in L.A., his portrayal is every bit as fresh as if it were his first time, even though he has done it for more than three years. This is a vintage performance which is haunting, lyrical, sinister and moving. His final moments on stage are heart-breaking as he sings The Point of No Return in a voice filled with aching, longing and pain. He is a demon capable of vile deeds, yet Crawford is able to imbue this creature with a sense of pure love, genuine devotion and extreme sadness. This is a performance with no rough edges; no slack in energy even after a run of three years. In fact I found myself watching his beautiful hands as he pushes Christine’s face away gently with his palm, not his fingertips; as he sensually, yet tenderly, caresses her in their duets creating an aura of passion and restraint. Finally, at the end, he is unforgettable as he reaches out to Christine, begging her to love him as he loves her. It is his performance that will haunt you forever with its mystery, madness and lyrical magic.

Dramalogue, Polly Warfield