It was bad enough when a novel was written (The Phantom of Manhattan), acting as a sequel to Leroux's classic novel, where the Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, escapes his doom and goes to New York, where he makes a killing in the stock market and generally acts non-Phantom-like. Fucking travesty. Now, someone's taking that novel, making music for it, and doing it as a sequel to Webber's hideously wrong adaptation of the original novel. I wish I was making this up, so there could be some kind of bad punchline at the end.
The terrible punchline, I think, is that I can hear a thousand pairs of panties being creamed over this. I hate this planet.