Fandom has a range of connotations. Fans can be obsessive, passionate, and sometimes even scary in their enthusiasm for the object of their affection. The level of dedication varies, but to outsiders, it can be seen as odd, unwarranted, irrational or laughable.
Co-directors Malcolm Ingram and Sean Stanley clearly consider all of these variations of fandom in their documentary Phantom of Winnipeg, which chronicles the surprising fandom that sprung up in the medium-sized Canadian city around Brian DePalma’s 1974 film Phantom of the Paradise. Reviews for the film were not kind and box office was poor…except in Winnipeg, where a rabid fanbase devoured the rock musical/romance/comedy/horror film in droves. They also did so in isolation, unaware that they were the only ones embracing DePalma’s film, Paul Williams’ iconic songs and Gerrit Graham’s amazingly queer performance as Beef.
Arriving in advance of Paradise’s 45th anniversary in November, Phantom of Winnipeg is less of a celebration of the cult film than it is a love letter to the residents of Winnipeg and an exploration of how the film changed their lives. Like other documentaries about fandom, it relies heavily on emotion, personal connections and the process of lifting up a text that acknowledges the value of being your own unique creature.
The opening sequence establishes the tone, the context and the personalities with a quick overview of the film, the city and the Peggers themselves (as they are sometimes referred to). The first act is arguably the most scattered and slightly muddled section as some speakers – all talking head interviews – are given longer, more personal introductions while others only pop up sporadically. None of the interviewees are provided with name titles, either, so when they occasionally reference each other it is a challenge early on to identify who is being referred to. Technically there are also some inconsistencies in the lighting and audio recording of the interviews, which leaves a few folks slightly obscured or less audible than others.
What makes Phantom of Winnipeg so imminently watchable is its own fascination with the odd turn of events. When Phantom of the Paradise was released in Winnipeg in 1974, the interviewees ranged in age from 8-12. They snuck away from their parents to spend the summer watching a man in a hawk mask mount a rock opera, wearing their repeat viewings of the film like badges of honor. The average fan suggests that they initially saw the film a minimum of ten times, often staying for multiple repeat viewings throughout the day. They also bought the soundtrack on vinyl, attended Williams’ tour as though he were a Beatle and, over the course of the years, sought out revival screenings, merchandise, tattoos and connections to each other.
The doc unofficially focuses on two time periods: the initial run of the film, when Winnipeg was the sole location in the world keeping the film afloat, and the revival, after the Internet-enabled fans to find each other and a celebratory screening/con called Phantompalooza was mounted with the film’s stars in attendance.
In the first section, there are attempts by both the fans and the film’s talent (minus DePalma, Harper and star William Finley, who passed away in 2012) to deconstruct why Peggers, of all people, embraced the film. The isolation, the extreme cold, and the city’s connection to music are all considered, though no one ever lands on a definitive answer (not even Kevin Smith, who outside of Williams, provides the film’s most clever quips).
The interceding years after the film’s release were marked by continued affection for the property, but also a deep sense of isolation, particularly as the group entered adulthood. After they were able to connect online, plans for the epic screening solidified the community’s commitment to not only the film, but one another.
That sense of belonging and communal experience gave way to trusting strangers simply because of their shared love for Paradise. It’s hard not to be touched by the genuine love these people feel for their beloved film, which thankfully is never mocked or made fun of by Ingram and Stanley. The film, and even some of its participants, seemingly understand how bizarre their devotion is, but the validity of it or the worth of the film is never questioned.
Phantom of Winnipeg is an unabashed love letter to the residents of Winnipeg and their unbridled affection for DePalma’s cult classic. The film has been an integral aspect of their lives for four decades; their childhoods, their personal struggles, their careers and their relationships are filtered through a Phantom Of The Paradise lens. It may not always make sense to outsiders, but to these fans, it is simply a fact of life. And that’s kinda beautiful.
