A young opera singer in modern-day New York decides to audition for a big role by singing a really lousy and obscure tune called Don Juan Triumphant. As if to critique her performance, a sand bag hits her in the head. Through the magical powers of the concussion, she is transported back to the time when Don Juan Triumphant was written, in London. She's still a young opera singer, but now she's playing out the story of the Phantom of the Opera. You know: Understudy takes singing lessons from mysterious figure. Mysterious figure keeps leading lady from performing, so that understudy can take over and become famous. Mysterious figure kills a few people. In this case, the phantom is a composer who sold his soul to a midget in exchange for a scarred face and the ability to write songs like Don Juan Triumphant. He skins people and sews that skin onto his face to try and make himself look slightly less gross.
"This was no phantom, Davis. Ghosts do not skin their victims... This is the work of an artist."
And everybody knows that artists do, in fact, skin their victims. That's how you can tell them apart from ghosts.
This film is, to be perfectly fair, monumentally stupid. The dialog is dog shit. The plot is idiotic. The acting is awful. The music sucks. All together, it makes Dario Argento's misguided and silly Phantom of the Opera look like some kind of damn masterpiece.
The gore's okay, but there isn't enough of it.