Phantom of the Paradise is unlike any other film. Sprawling and strange, the epic musical masterpiece is uncannily prescient, predicting the nostalgia craze, glam rock, and multiple other musical trends. The project came about after Phantom of the Opera became one of two options that Pressman and De Palma picked up after the lauded director became disillusioned with big studio movies. “I first met Brian De Palma in New York. He’d done a film called Greetings, a low budget independent film with some political undertones, and we became friends and he went on to start directing for the studios. He did a film for Warner’s called Get to Know Your Rabbit and he was very unhappy with the experience and called me from Toronto, I think. There was a producer taking options on Phantom and Sisters, and Brian said, ‘Get me out of here. You can get the rights so we can make it the way I want to.’ So we did that,” Pressman told us.

Though the producer preferred the strange vision De Palma had for the unexpected mashup of classic literary tales Phantom of the Opera, Faust, and Dorian Gray, the pair settled on adapting Sisters first, with a cast made up of De Palma’s housemates. “We had a decision to make about which film we wanted to do first. From the beginning, Phantom was the most exciting out of the two projects in my mind but Sisters was more practical. At the time, Brian was living in a house in Malibu that was owned by Waldo Salt who wrote Midnight Cowboy. He’d left it to his daughter Jennifer and she invited Brian and Margot Kidder and Paul Schrader, a whole bunch of people. So the easiest thing was to keep it close to this group. So Margot Kidder would play one role and Jennifer the other lead, and it was a simpler form to make. It turned out that Sisters did really well, especially in the drive-ins.”

After the success of their first collaboration, Pressman and De Palma began their passion project, Phantom of the Filmore. The reimagining centers on a young singer-songwriter, Winslow Leach, who’s overheard by a maniacal music producer known as Swan who steals the young man’s music. De Palma brought in composer Paul Williams to write the many songs in the film. “I was a staff writer at A&M Records, writing for The Carpenters, Three Dog Night, and a lot of great but kind of middle of the road music, you know, certainly not the Music of the Spheres,” Williams explained. “They opened a film department to try and get more of the music coming out of A&M Records into movies, and a guy there knew that Brian was doing Phantom of the Paradise, which at the time was called Phantom of the Filmore. I don’t know why Brian responded to my music because it was so different. I was known for writing what I call co-dependent anthems but for some reason, he really responded. So I came to it first as a composer and lyricist.”

That might surprise fans of the film who know Williams best as the evil, Faustian producer who steals Winslow’s songs and later tries to trap him into becoming the voice and mind behind his new music venue, the titular Paradise. “The first song, Brian wanted Sha Na Na to perform and I said, ‘You know what, I’ve got this band I’ve been working with, these guys have been with me for years, they’re my road band. I’d like these guys to be the band.’ I think this may have been the beginning of when he started going, ‘Ah, there’s Swan.’ They eventually became the Juicy Fruits in the film and the bands that they evolve into throughout.”

De Palma originally suggested that Williams play the Phantom and hero of the story himself, Winslow Leech, but the songwriter wasn’t sold on the idea. “I told him, ‘I could not, are you kidding??? I’m too little.’ And he said, ‘But you could be this creepy guy up in the rafters throwing things at people,'” Williams laughed. “For me, the idea of trying to perform with one eye through a mask…Bill Finley did things with that, there was just this essence to the character, something in the reading of Winslow that was so beautifully innocent, so touching. He was an amazing actor and it worked out because I got to play Swan!”

Filming Phantom was off the cuff and collaborative, a process that saw input from those around cast and crew, as Williams recalls. “The first thing we shot was the contract scene. Yeah, my manager actually came up with a line that’s in the contract that I love. The concept for where the line came from is: if God signed a contract to create the universe, what would the contract say? ‘All articles which are excluded shall be deemed included.’ You know, it’s perfect. So that wound up in there.”

Like most low budget films, the making of Phantom of the Paradise was incredibly intense. For the songwriter, there was no time to congratulate himself on his first acting gig. “There wasn’t a lot of time to really celebrate. I remember shooting all day and there was one scene that we had to reshoot the scene when I pull the knife from Winslow’s chest on the roof. We shot all day, and then I went directly from the set to the studio, recorded vocals until almost dawn, and then went right back to the set. They took my makeup off, put new makeup on, and then I shot the scene. I was so tired, I couldn’t understand me. And we were all like, ‘Oh, my God, that’s terrible.’ So we ended up reshooting it in New York.”

For Pressman, Phantom was the kind of film he had always dreamed of making. “It was unique and original, closer to a kind of Cocteau fantasy that I’m drawn too. Sisters was more of a conventional thriller; I mean, Brian turned it into more than that, but on the page, Phantom was just far more expansive. The idea of Paul Williams doing the score was just this far more ambitious and exciting project.” Though the creative team was passionate, they were unsure of how the film would be received once they’d finished making it. “I don’t think we had an idea of the impact it would have. I think we were really happy with the film and we were happy that Fox picked it up when it finished, which was unusual in those days. They were doing less independent films and studios were not in the business of picking up other movies. They paid–today it would sound like peanuts–but I think they paid $2 million for the rights, and that was a big deal then.”

Though the ambitious and audacious film was nominated for an Academy Award for Original Song Score and Adaptation, and a Golden Globe Award for Best Original Score: Motion Picture, it was a financial flop that failed to make money in almost every market except for Winnipeg, Manitoba. It’s not totally surprising as the film was ahead of its time in almost every sense. From showcasing an overtly queer character in the form of Paradise star Beef to a story centered on male toxicity and the abusive nature of the record industry the film pushed boundaries and didn’t seem to be playing to any kind of mainstream audience.

TWO MORE RECENT 'PHANTOM' INTERVIEWS:

ComicBook.com Interview with Paul Williams
ComicBook.com Interview with Jessica Harper

Wood goes on to look at Phantom Of The Paradise as a film that "brilliantly functions in two ways: as an exploration of the form (in this case, the form of the musical) and a satire of the setting"...

De Palma knows musical theatre and understands the internal logic (or lack thereof) in its narrative mechanisms. The film’s obsession with songs-as-expression and reductive treatment of certain plot points highlight this knowledge.

For example, when Jessica Harper’s character faces the notorious casting couch, De Palma turns this into a choreographed dance in the background. Starlet after starlet jumps on the couch, gets ravished by a jean-jacketed oaf, then rolls away for replacement. Like a stage musical, Phantom of the Paradise gives its audience all it needs to know in a few key visuals, more interested in symbolism than outright depiction. A similar treatment exists in Winslow’s persecution, harassment by police and escape from prison. These are necessary to the plot but irrelevant to De Palma’s emotional arc. Thus, he cooks them down into opulent signifiers.

When it’s time for music, however, De Palma grants loving attention to each note and gesture. He uses the music of the film to give insight into the inner monologue of the characters. De Palma’s musical numbers become exposition, not of the plot, but of feeling. He obliterates the subtleties of the human heart amidst blasts of synth and guitar.

When the wounded Winslow returns to The Paradise to confront Swan, he simply finds the mask and becomes the phantom. However, it doesn’t turn into a generic Vincent Price-esque slasher revenge film. Swan traps the scarred and vulnerable Winslow into another devil’s bargain for musical perfection, fame, and the chance to turn his beloved Phoenix into a star. De Palma is not content with a horror film, a musical, a comedy, or a biting satire. He wants all of it on stage, parroting the excesses of the story’s setting.

Satire of Setting

Above any genre convention or label, Phantom of the Paradise exists as a testament to its time. Paul Williams not only stars but also contributes his musical talent and “been-there” candor to the proceedings. This blesses the film’s portrayal of music with the kiss of one of its Popes. Every character glistens, baptized in the sleaze of an early, ballsy De Palma.

Like Paul Thomas Anderson’s love letter to the seedy porn of Los Angeles’ Golden Age in Boogie Nights (1997), Phantom is interested in the people, places, and things that made up a world De Palma longed for. Swan’s crisp suits, greased smile, and mirrored full of writhing women act as garish dreams of an outsider looking in. This is De Palma fogging the window to rock n’ roll’s hedonistic delights.

There’s also a dark side, as De Palma exposes the sadism of the business behind the music. Jessica Harper’s Phoenix is cruelly buffeted from humiliation to humiliation before her big break, her wide-eyed wonder at every abuse and opportunity acting as a first verse to the song she would later dance to in Dario Argento’s Suspiria (1978). Swan’s appetites don’t just limit themselves to sex, money, and fame. He craves eternal youth and the domination of others, the way artists can become predators when corrupted by the business.

Fade Out

Brian De Palma lends his usual idiosyncratic style to Phantom of the Paradise while also bowing to both the musical and the rock music scene as style elders. It’s a dark, violent mood symphony as funny as it is emotionally harrowing. We decide an auteur’s success by his riskiest endeavors and this is Brian De Palma’s masterpiece.

Our Principal Archivist just got back home from the Fantasia Festival in Montreal, where Phantom of Winnipeg had its world premiere on Friday, July 11, and Phantom of the Paradise was screened the next night. (Winnipeg also enjoyed an encore screening on Sunday afternoon.) Somewhere around 130 people packed the Salle J.A. DeSeve on Friday, including a number of the Winnipeg fans who are profiled in the documentary. Also in attendance were directors Malcolm Ingram and Sean Stanley, as well as Paul Williams (who is interviewed briefly in the film, as is our Principal Archivist, who somehow ended up with a co-producer credit.) The film, without actually making an attempt to answer the question, "Why Winnipeg," and without taking a position on whether Paradise is actually a good movie or not, is a gentle and loving tribute to the power of fandom to change lives and create community. The plan for the screening of Paradise the following night was that Paul Williams and (Phantom producer) Ed Pressman would "host" the proceedings, with Ed receiving a lifetime achievement award from the festival for the somewhere-around-100 films he has produced, and his role in nurturing promising up and coming directors. Sadly, Ed had injured himself in a fall the day before, and was not able to attend, so, shortly before things got underway, Paul asked our Principal Archivist to moderate a Q&A with Paul, which he nervously did. We hope people enjoyed it, and maybe even heard some anecdotes they hadn't previously encountered. Ed was, fortunately, sufficiently recovered by Monday to appear at the festival remotely, via Skype, to present his scheduled master class. MEANWHILE - a dilemma is brewing in New York, as the Sleepy Hollow International Film Festival will be screening Winnipeg and Paradise and doing a tribute to Ed Pressman, all in mid-October - which is exactly when the Hamptons International Film Festival, two hours away, will be presenting Brian De Palma with a lifetime achievement award, on the occasion of which Alec Baldwin will be doing a Q&A with Mr. De Palma onstage. Why must we suffer so?

It didn’t seem to matter that Sadako was a disappointment, however. The biggest draw of the weekend, and the one that inspired the most childlike excitement in the festival-goers I talked to, was the double dip of redemption for Brian De Palma’s 1974 horror rock opera Phantom Of The Paradise. De Palma rarely talks about the film [De Palma a la Mod note: not exactly a correct statement, as De Palma seems happy to discuss Phantom whenever the subject comes up], and certainly never shows up for retrospective screenings. Star William Finley died in 2012, and Jessica Harper’s busy on the Suspiria circuit, leaving 78-year-old co-star and songwriter Paul Williams to carry the torch of the film’s small but intense—and heavily Canadian—“phandom.” I confess I spent much of the weekend trying to understand the question of why Canada, and specifically Winnipeg, loves this obscure ’70s artifact so damn much, never realizing that I was humming the answer to myself the whole time. It’s stuck in my head right now, in fact.

No one sang along at the 45th anniversary screening of the film on Saturday night, which was held in an appropriately baroque movie palace in downtown Montréal outfitted with marble statues and red velvet seats. Although it shares certain aesthetic qualities with The Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Phantom Of The Paradise inspires much less audience participation: The self-proclaimed “‘Peggers” in the crowd clapped along with Williams’ Swan when he slaps his gloved hands together three times in the opening scene. But that was it. The rest of the film, whose offbeat glam-rock theatricality I appreciate more every time I see it, unfolded in hushed silence, before the eruption of standing ovation as Williams took the stage for a post-film Q&A. Williams was audibly moved as he thanked the crowd for their undying support, telling them that it was because of them the movie lives on. They loved that.

It was heartwarming to recognize a few Winnipeggers on screen the following morning at a screening of Phantom Of Winnipeg (Grade: B), a crowdfunded documentary that sets out to answer my exact question of why Winnipeg, Manitoba is one of only two places in the world where Phantom Of The Paradise was a hit. (The other was Paris, where the future members of Daft Punk met at a screening.) And the film comes close to providing real insight into the question, going beyond the usual “isn’t this fun” platitudes of a fan documentary to explore how growing up in a cold, isolated area like Winnipeg shapes a person’s sensibilities, as well as how the internet has changed the nature of fandom. That being said, the inclusion of Kevin Smith, whose obsession with Canada is funny but more than a little patronizing, draws attention away from the fans, all of whom are great characters in their own right. One man, who plays in a Phantom cover band and offers to trade his buddy a black Gibson Flying V for a signed copy of the soundtrack, says he saw it 50 times in its initial run. Another woman shows off her handmade Phantom purse, with the Death Records logo on one side and “Trust Me. -Swan” cross-stitched onto the other.

In preparation for this year’s Fantasia Film Festival, I looked over my coverage from last year and was utterly shocked that I forgot to mention the presence of Joe Dante, director of many pop-film masterpieces like Gremlins, Small Soldiers, and Gremlins 2: The New Batch. Joe Dante is a master filmmaker, no doubt, but in the face of emerging genre stars (like the minds behind Cam, Daniel Goldhaber and Isa Mazzei, whom I can genuinely claim to being into Before They Were Cool) it can be easy to ignore the celebrities of Fantasia. But this year, that celebrity is the impossible-to-ignore Paul Williams, star of the 1974 rock opera Phantom of the Paradise. This bonkers, terrifying, hilarious film, one of the first from certified maniac Brian De Palma, was, of course, a massive bomb in North America. Well, everywhere except one place: Winnipeg, where the film made even more than Star Wars and Jaws, and endures till this day.

That seems like one of the made-up Winnipeg factoids that one would find in Guy Maddin’s seminal half-documentary My Winnipeg, but it’s completely true. Phantom of Winnipeg is a documentary about the Winnipeg fans of Phantom (Peggers, as they’re called numerous times by Paul Williams himself, amusingly), more concerned with documenting the purity and joy of their fandom than investigating why it sprung up. It’s a brilliant punchline to watching the film for the first time: you’re drowned in colour and rock and fear and that glorious Phantom getup, and then you learn that the place which wholeheartedly embraced the film was a cold, orderly Canadian city with a dark underbelly; perhaps the most secretive city in all of North America. In my experience, Montreal prefers to wear its weirdness on its sleeve, which is what Fantasia is all about.

"So," Williams tells the audience as he and Kahan stand on the stage together, "one of the things that Ari did, is, he managed to find the footage that was replaced. We thought it was lost forever, but he found it. I think that was your doing, right? [applause] And he found the footage. He has reconstructed Phantom Of The Paradise with all the original [footage]. So there is this absolutely pristine version of the film, exactly the way that Brian De Palma wanted you to see it. And, we're trying to get permission to now, once again, display all of it. That's the kind of archivist that Ari is, and it's terrific." [applause]

A couple of days ago, just before the start of Fantasia Fest, where the documentary Phantom Of Winnipeg was about to have its world premiere, Williams wrote the following on his Instagram page:

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. The enthusiastic fans of Winnipeg are partly responsible for the life and career I have today. Where do you go to find a PR firm or press agent that will remain enthusiastic about a film for 45 years ... singing its praises to anyone who will listen. You go to Winnipeg. With Peggers on your side ..all things are possible! 😝 See you in Montreal! Grateful…❤️🙏🏻🌈i

On it's Facebook page, Fantasia Fest has posted the entire intro and post-screening Q&A from Friday night's world premiere screening of Phantom Of Winnipeg. In the video, shot by Eric St-Cyr, Paul Williams asks the filmmakers how they came to know Phantom Of The Paradise. Malcolm Ingram talks about catching it as a kid in 1979 and the impact of seeing Winslow's face traumatically burned in the record press, feeling like he shouldn't be seeing this. And then, even though he feels he was probably still too young to be watching these movies, he started following De Palma's work, seeing Dressed To Kill and Blow Out when he was still a kid. Sean Stanley, meanwhile, says he was working at a video store, and fell in love with De Palma's films, watching all of them, "and then when 'Goodbye, Eddie' came on, I stopped. And then for the next six months, every single person that came over to my house, I was like, 'You gotta see this. You gotta see this.'"

EBERT.COM REVIEW - PHANTOM OF WINNIPEG "CONSISTENTLY DELIGHTFUL" LOOK AT BIRTH OF A COMMUNITY

Rogerebert.com's Nick Allen was at the Fantasia Fest world premiere of Phantom Of Winnipeg Friday night, and writes about the doc, as well as a bit about the event:

Brian De Palma’s “Phantom of the Paradise” was not a hit when it came out in 1974, released to mild reviews and an even more unforgiving box office. At least, that was the case seemingly everywhere in the world except for the Canadian hub of Winnipeg, where “Phantom of the Paradise” became a fixation for seemingly any ‘Pegger (as they’re called) that had a feel for the crazy rock ’n roll in De Palma’s film. As other movies came through the city, “Phantom of the Paradise” would linger, and play shows week after week after week.

A whole batch of impressionable, outsider kids were never the same, and the movie inspired them to become musicians, or to see a part of themselves they hadn’t. Canadian filmmaker Kevin Smith speaks in this movie about how these “phans” are such a select, intense bunch that they might as well have been part of an alien experiment. Watching these men and women talk with giddy smiles about “Phantom of the Paradise,” like cult members dedicated to a bonafide oddity, he’s onto something.

So goes the story of Malcolm Ingram and Sean Stanley’s documentary “Phantom of Winnipeg,” a consistently delightful collection of life stories where loving “Phantom of the Paradise” is at the center. We get to hear from many different individuals (not given title cards, making them memorable faces in a pool of a shared love), and they share not just stories of watching the film dozens of times, or of meeting their heroes. They also show off their signed vinyl records, merchandise, and even replicas of the Phantom's helmet, which had to be homemade when "Phantom" fever had first taken over Winnipeg.

Fear not if you haven’t seen “Phantom of the Paradise,” or if you do not share even a tenth of the admiration for it that these people do. The power in this documentary—right from the start—is that Ingram and Stanley celebrate the very specific chapters of their fandom, and immerse us in their geekiness while showing the sense of community. Like the most genuinely touching of films about anyone’s life, this focus then makes it universal. The passion that all of the subjects have for this movie becomes any viewer’s joy, especially as the directors seem to have an indispensable amount of stories about the power that “Phantom of the Paradise” has.

"Phantom of Winnipeg" isn’t so much about a fan community as the birth of a family, one that includes stars Paul Williams, Gerrit Graham, and Peter Elbling—they speak extensively in the film, about what this love for “Phantom” means to them, and how it lead to a gorgeous, symbiotic relationship. To see Elbling perform on stage alongside fans with the same zeal as anyone else in the room is a powerful sight, and one of many ways the documentary surpasses hagiography with its genuine touch.

Perhaps the biggest name involved with the original movie that does not speak in the film is Brian De Palma, but as crazy as this may sound, you won’t miss him—this is a story about the life “Phantom of the Paradise” had after, the meaning a text took on after its followers have passed it around; “Phantom of Winnipeg” is not so much about the ideas that birthed it, or the process of creating it, but the meaning it has to people for decades ongoing. This documentary's strong focus helps catapult the filmmaking through some shoddier-looking passages—even the collection of talking heads feel like a strong directorial choice, as you just want to listen to these people geek out. With its constantly delightful nature, it’s a universally appealing testament to how loving a piece of art—and in this case, both a soundtrack and a movie—is one of the most special connections any human being can have.

Attendees at Friday night’s world premiere of the documentary at Fantasia got to witness this love firsthand. Not only were the subjects in attendance, sitting in the front row, but Paul Williams was there as well, speaking about how the documentary came together, but more importantly about the legacy of the movie. He also stated that he hopes the story of "Phantom of the Paradise" lives on in new versions, and already had a director in mind: Edgar Wright.

Saturday night at Fantasia featured a special retrospective screening of "Phantom of the Paradise," with Williams, the 'Peggers, and producer Ed Pressman in attendance. Pair that with "Phantom of Winnipeg," and the legacy of "Paradise" comes full circle. As one of the highlighted “Phantom” fans stated regarding the decades they loved the movie: “We all saw Paul. Now he’s watching us.”

Meanwhile, at the eventbrite page for the screening, Secret Movie Club programmer Craig Hammill writes:

One of the most surprising aspects of Brian De Palma’s long career is his early penchant for and talent with satiric comedy that was able to both critique and celebrate the craziness and excesses of the times in which he was living. Along with Hi Mom and Scarface, Phantom of the Paradise belongs in an unofficial trilogy of satire and genre that reveals deeper veins of observation.

De Palma’s unhinged, hilarious, cinematic musical re-telling of The Phantom of the Opera finds Winslow selling his soul so that he can give his music to Phoenix (played by Suspiria’s always wonderful Jessica Harper) to make her famous. But Swan (played to the hilt by music legend Paul Williams) steals the music and instead opens up a kind of Fillmore/Palladium/Hollywood Disco Bowl from hell, The Paradise.

What follows is a series of over the top but wonderfully delicious musical numbers that skewer and celebrate the musical genres of the 1970’s while delivering the trademark De Palma cinematic fireworks. All wrapped up in a satire/horror movie/1970’s glam rock musical bow.

This is one of those movies that folks just love more and more. Come join us for one of De Palma’s all-time best.

On Saturday, July 13th, Pressman will be given a Lifetime Achievement Award at a 45th Anniversary screening of Phantom Of The Paradise, and Williams will join him onstage for this, as well. Then, on Sunday July 14th, Pressman will present a masterclass at Fantasia, where he will be interviewed onstage by critic and professor Donato Totaro.

Phantom Of Winnipeg will have its U.S. premiere this October at Sleepy Hollow International Film Festival in Tarrytown, NY, and Pressman will again be in attendance. De Palma's Phantom Of The Paradise will also screen at Sleepy Hollow this year, and more guests are expected to be announced in the coming months.

Also at this year's edition of Fantasia Fest, which takes place in Montreal, will be the world premiere of Phantom Of Winnipeg. While specific screening dates for this doc have not yet been revealed, the Swan Archives expects it to screen July 12, "and perhaps again on July 14." Here's the Fantasia description:

Just about everyone adores Brian De Palma’s 1974 glam rock comedy horror musical classic PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE. That wasn’t always so. Upon release, the film landed with a thud and quickly disappeared from screens everywhere – except for in the small and frigid Canadian city of Winnipeg, where local kids (shockingly between the ages of 9-13) turned the film into an enduring phenomenon with local box office grosses larger than JAWS! PHANTOM OF WINNIPEG (World Premiere) tells the story of the unique outsider fan community that sprung up around the film. It’s an exploration of the very DNA of fan culture itself told via the true-life stories of those fateful Winnipeg kids who just got it and the cast and creative team behind the original film who saw it all go down first-hand. Filmmakers Malcolm Ingram and Sean Stanley have spent years making this affectionate and wonderful doc, and Fantasia’s proud-as-Phoenix to be showcasing its long-coming World Premiere.

The restored film had its North American premiere at the San Diego Asian Film Festival this past November-- Brian Hu wrote about the film:

In 1985, Japan’s National Space Development Agency selected the first group of Japanese astronauts to assist NASA missions in space. By zero coincidence of course, that same year, THE LEGEND OF THE STARDUST BROTHERS descended to earth from the brains of director Macoto Tezuka, then a 22-year-old film student, and musician and TV star Haruo Chicada, who had just made a legit awesome concept album about a fake band called the Stardust Brothers. Together, they would join brainwaves to produce a Phantom of the Paradise-inspired feature-length comedy set to the album. The result didn’t register Rocky Horror-level cultural tides. But that was 1985. Now it’s 2018 and it’s time to rediscover this demented gem.

In it, two rival bandleaders – the punk Kan and the new wave Shingo – are fused into a synth-pop duo by a shady record promoter with the stare of a Bond villain and the grease of a casino manager. The odd couple climb the charts alongside their fan club manager, a former groupie with star aspirations of her own. Together they soar into the stratosphere, dodging laser-beams and robots like they’re in a futuristic Hard Day’s Night, cozying up with white girls and snorting coke from kiddie pools like a Rolling Stone. But the higher the climb, the steeper the fall, especially as the film starts ripping the record industry for its soul-sucking exploitation, its conversion of joy into briefcases of cash, and its susceptibility to government interference.

Oh but the glory! Tezuka (son of Osamu Tezuka of Astro Boy fame) throws in the kitchen sink and the piping to go along with it, never refusing a chance for upside-down cinematography, quacky sound inserts, animation asides, or hallucinations that involve mutants and zombies. The practical effects and reflective costumes transport MTV hijinks onto a Japanese game show set, while the cast of then-superstar rockers exude traditional manzai comedy with prime intergalactic jokester warfare. Prefiguring the bozo funk of Katsuhito Ishii and Takashi Miike that would revolutionize Japanese pop cinema in the early 2000s, THE LEGEND OF THE STARDUST BROTHERS was decades ahead of its time but now finally ready for its close-up.

Starring real-life musicians Shingo Kubota and Kan Takagi, the movie tells the story of a pair of rivals from the Tokyo band scene who are turned into pop sensations by a shadowy Svengali (played by singer Kiyohiko Ozaki). But after a fleeting taste of success, they soon discover that, in the words of one song: “Once you reach No. 1, you just go down.” This isn’t really the kind of film that you watch for the plot, mind you. It has some killer songs, for starters, courtesy of idiosyncratic musician Haruo Chikada, which range from punk and new-wave to retro kayōkyoku (Showa Era Japanese pop) and rock ‘n’ roll.

Many of the tracks originated on the eponymous album that Chikada released in 1980, an “imaginary soundtrack” inspired by The Who’s “Tommy.”

“Nowadays, idols often keep going for a decade or so after making their debut,” Chikada says, discussing the overarching theme. “Back then, people would be popular one minute and then they’d vanish.”

The title came from a wisecrack by actor Shingo Yamashiro, who liked to joke that he wasn’t a “star,” he was just “stardust.” Besides, “Stardust Brothers” had a nice ring to it.

The task of translating Chikada’s album to the big screen fell to a film school prodigy with a familiar surname. Tezka (born Makoto Tezuka) is the son of Japan’s most famous manga artist, “Astro Boy” creator Osamu Tezuka, but rather than follow his father into the animation industry, he’d plunged into the world of 8mm filmmaking.

He made his first short film when he was 17 years old and picked up a prize in a contest judged by renowned director Nagisa Oshima, who became an early champion. His next two shorts were both accepted into the precursor of today’s Pia Film Festival, gaining him wider recognition within the industry and extensive media coverage.

Chikada first encountered Tezka’s work when it was featured on the TV show he presented. When he later talked with a producer friend about making a “Stardust Brothers” movie, the young filmmaker was the first — and only — name that came to mind.

“We didn’t know anyone in the movie industry,” he says. “So we were totally reckless — we asked the one person we knew who had a foot in that world, which was Macoto Tezka.”

Despite only being 23 at the time, the 8mm whizz was impressively well-connected. “I’d come in contact with a lot of people, but more from the worlds of music, fashion and design than movies,” Tezka says. “When we got together, I’d talk about this film I was making, and everyone would offer to help out.”

This explains the movie’s eclectic cast, which includes comedians, novelists, musicians and manga artists, though only a smattering of professional actors. Kyoko Togawa, one of the few seasoned performers, is a standout, and there’s a scene-stealing turn by future visual- kei star Issay. Watch closely and you may also spot cameos by director Kiyoshi Kurosawa, manga artist Kazuhiko “Monkey Punch” Kato and professional wrestler Akira Maeda, among many others.

Tezka and Chikada shared an appreciation for “Phantom of the Paradise,” Brian De Palma’s camp 1974 rock musical, and “The Legend of the Stardust Brothers” ends with a dedication to it’s protagonist, Winslow Leach. As Tezka notes, De Palma cast his former college roommate, William Finley, in the role — reaffirming his belief that personality counted for just as much as professional bona fides.

On a more practical level, his exploits in 8mm film had taught him how to splice his way around his performers’ shortcomings.

“My style at the time made a lot of use of editing and montages, so I didn’t really need people to give sustained performances,” he says. “Even if they couldn’t act, as long as they could express themselves in a unique way, and there was a sense of rhythm or tempo, I knew I could put something together in the cutting room afterward.”

Tezka also managed to create some impressive set-pieces using limited resources, most memorably in a chase sequence full of Looney Tunes-style sight gags. Yet while modern audiences are likely to warm to the film’s spirited DIY aesthetic, critics at the time were less generous.

Even now, Tezka sounds hurt by the backlash — saying it “made me want to stop making films like this” — and it would be over a decade before he released another theatrical feature. As multiple projects failed to get off the ground, he started calling himself a “visualist” and looking beyond the movie industry: to music videos, TV commercials, even video games.

The belated acclaim for “Stardust Brothers” is cause for celebration, but also a bit of ruefulness.

“People are watching it with fresh eyes now, and I’ve had lots of positive comments,” he says. “But I wonder about how I could have taken those ideas further, and all the films I might have made, if people had responded like that at the time.”

Chikada, on the other hand, seems to have been unfazed by the film’s frosty reception. “I’d seen the same thing happen again and again with my music,” he says. “Even though I had a lot of confidence in what I was doing, other people didn’t seem to get it. I figured it was the same case here, so I just waited: I knew they’d come round eventually.”