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This film version of the hugely successful stage musical - produced by Andrew Lloyd Webber and directed by Joel Schumacher - is almost two and a half hours of loud bombastic music and offensive clichés about disfigurement. Perhaps I was naive but, never having seen the actual musical, I wasn't quite prepared for the sheer nastiness of it all.

The story is set in Paris in 1870. The Phantom is a brooding, disfigured musical genius who lives in the sewers under the city's Opera House. He has secretly been giving music lessons to Christine, a beautiful and virginal chorus singer, since she was a child. Christine, who has only ever heard his voice, thinks he is the ghost of her dead father. When the opera's Italian diva, La Carlotta, stomps out on opening night, Christina steps in, singing Think of Me, the film's best song.

The Phantom is obsessively in love with Christine. When he discovers that she has fallen for the opera's handsome and rich patron, Raoul, who was once her childhood sweetheart, the Phantom is overcome by a terrifying, violent jealousy. And I'm not surprised either, because Raoul looks like a girl, whereas the Phantom is a moody hunk with fabulous dress sense. Christine might have musical talent, but she has infuriatingly crap taste in men.

After Christine's successful debut, the Phantom reveals himself to her and takes her to his bachelor pad: this is only accessible via a boat ride across a foggy lagoon, where gold candles inexplicably rise fully lit from the murky waters. Down they go to his spooky habitat (as opposed to the branch of Habitat from which he presumably purchased those candles). He sings. She sings. He sings some more. She faints. And I'm left feeling nauseous.

Obviously this is supposed to be the story of a tragic genius tortured by his disability, unable to be loved by a beautiful young woman because of his hideous face. Born disfigured, a flashback shows him as a child being horribly abused in a freak show and escaping to the sewers. The songs desperately want us to feel that if only the Phantom wasn't persecuted and mocked by society, he would be a rather nice chap. We're supposed to feel sympathy for him. But this is ruined by scenes such as the implied attempted rape of Christine, the Phantom wailing that his face has "denied me the joys of the flesh". Despite being a rather dark and sexy character (think Simon Cowell with sex appeal), he is also violent and nasty; it's difficult to feel any sympathy for a character so smothered in self-pity.

Towards the end of the film, Christine pulls away the Phantom's mask to reveal his disfigurement to the audience. Except that his 'disfigurement' is basically a sore eye that some Viscotears could soothe, and some pink puckered skin that could easily be sorted out with a bit of tea tree oil. I look worse than that in the mornings before I've had a bath and a cup of tea.

However, the greatest horror is undoubtedly reserved for what happens to the Phantom's hair. When the mask is ripped from his face, his previously slick black hair suddenly becomes rough and messy, with a large bald patch on his right side. I could have sworn that I even saw a blonde highlight. The director wants us to know that the Phantom has really lost his mind because his hair is now a mess. Yes, it really is that deep.

Perhaps the biggest mystery in this film is not what lies beneath the Phantom's mask, but rather: where does he buy his Brylcreem from? And where does he store his trouser press?