Just over two years ago, the Phantom was last seen in New York, a fugitive from an enraged crowd after being exposed as a killer, a sexual predator, and a menace with a reckless disregard for grand chandeliers. But as is often the case, few truly stay out of the limelight for long.
Ladies and gentlemen, the Phantom has returned. He’s moved a short distance uptown to a freshly renovated residence just south of Central Park, and he’s hosting lavish evenings most nights of the week, with formal attire being a strict requirement.
“Masquerade,” a creation by Diane Paulus and her husband Randy Weiner, transforms Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “The Phantom of the Opera” into an immersive experience spread across multiple floors, including a basement and, weather permitting, a rooftop. Staged six times nightly, this production is a blend of a haunted house, a fan-crafted edit, and an unexpectedly vigorous cardio workout. While it sacrifices many of the original songs for a heightened atmosphere, one could argue that “Phantom” always leaned heavily on its mood.
It’s a testament to Lloyd Webber’s willingness to innovate that he has recently greenlit radical reinterpretations of his classic shows. Examples include a wildly energetic, ballroom-themed “Cats” Off Broadway in 2024, and Jamie Lloyd’s minimalist, screen-heavy Broadway revival of “Sunset Boulevard,” which garnered three Tony Awards. Yet, it’s truly astonishing that he permitted his biggest hit to be reinvented as something akin to a dark ride at a horror theme park. He didn’t just permit it; he collaborated with Paulus on some new lyrics. This iteration of “Masquerade” is undeniably silly, at times frustrating, ethically questionable, and frankly, absolutely thrilling. It even tried to kill me briefly.
“The Phantom of the Opera,” a story of grandiosity and romance adapted from Gaston Leroux’s 1911 novel, debuted on Broadway in 1988. Frank Rich, writing for The New York Times at the time, famously described it as “as much a victory of dynamic stagecraft over musical kitsch as it is a triumph of merchandising uber alles.” Indeed, there’s a strong thread of truth in that merchandising. By the time “Phantom” concluded its Broadway run in 2023, it had played nearly 14,000 performances—that’s a remarkable number of musical nights.
For better or worse, “Masquerade” is a complete remix of “Phantom.” Many of the original songs are shortened, the plot has been condensed, and a significant amount of new music has been incorporated. Its timeline leans more into the less-loved 2004 film version, even including the ballad “Learn to Be Lonely,” which famously played over the movie’s credits and arguably should have remained there. The show also features new, elegant merchandise and some newly added lyrics, which are often less than inspiring (e.g., “Enter my mind/Which I think you will find/May be one of a kind.”).
Despite the changes, the core story and characters remain largely the same. A ghost has terrorized a Paris opera house for years. This musical genius, disfigured and hidden, becomes fixated on a chorus girl named Christine Daeé. He guides her to his hidden lair, where he becomes her vocal instructor. Later, he crafts a starring role specifically for her, much to the delight and eventual dismay of her suitor, Raoul, a vicomte. Predictably, chaos ensues.
While the original “Phantom” at the Majestic Theater could host over 1,600 patrons per performance, “Masquerade” limits its audience to a mere 60 per show, totaling around 360 guests each night. An advance message from the box office recommends guests wear their finest black, white, or silver attire (with comfortable shoes, a detail that led me to pair a strapless gown with sneakers) and to bring masks, though decorative lace ones are provided on-site.
The excitement among attendees was palpable at both performances I saw—in line, in the elevator, and in a beautifully appointed room where a violin soloist played the overture. The remainder of the musical score is prerecorded, making “Masquerade” a more intimate experience than its Broadway counterpart (given the absence of 27 live orchestra members), though this comes at the cost of some acoustic grandeur.
The doors then open, inviting guests into the Phantom’s “private masquerade,” and for the next two hours, audiences are rapidly moved between various locations within and around the opera house. Unlike the long-running immersive production “Sleep No More” (Weiner was a producer for its American run, which recently concluded), audiences in “Masquerade” follow a predetermined path, leaving little opportunity for leisurely exploration.
Perhaps this structured approach is for the best. The sets, conceived by Scott Pask and designed by James Fluhr, range from elaborate to surprisingly chintzy, with details like plastic candle wax drippings. They are also adorned with artwork by notable figures like Bob Dylan and Marina Abramovic, though I must admit that in the frantic pace from room to room, I barely noticed them.
This whirlwind experience is often breathtakingly exciting, sometimes too breathtaking. During the second performance, a glitch caused me to be caught in a terrifying crush at the top of an escalator, surrounded by panicked guests. A minute later, a door was opened, and the panic subsided. Was this the Phantom’s doing? (I was later assured the issue had been resolved.)
And yet, I can happily confess that there’s a genuine delight in being so close to the famous boat, in having Christine or Madame Giry take your hand, and in the exhilarating rush of anticipating what each new room will reveal.
Typically, it reveals a man in a half-mask. “Masquerade” emphasizes, even more than the original, that this is unequivocally the Phantom’s story. A greeter informs us that we are here to be led through his “darkest dreams.” There’s a ballet performed within his workshop, and an extended flashback sequence at a circus sideshow is used to both explain and absolve his past transgressions. It’s all quite seductive, assuming you’re comfortable overlooking the questionable actions of powerful men and sidelining the experience of a deceived woman.
Christine, a character who only truly makes sense if she is either drugged or pathologically naive, is rendered even less comprehensible here. It’s a pity that Paulus, who previously directed a Broadway revival of “1776” with a cast of female, transgender, and nonbinary performers, didn’t find more opportunities to delve into Christine’s circumstances or to dress her in anything beyond a negligee. What about her ambitions? Her true desires?
Both Christines I observed were outstanding, particularly the captivating and remarkably young Anna Zavelson, and the Phantoms were also highly skilled. (I saw Kyle Scatliffe, a resonant baritone, opposite Eryn LeCroy; and Jeff Kready opposite Zavelson.) Nevertheless, at times, the performances felt secondary. This is, at its heart, vibes-based theater.
Still, on its numerous levels and for the majority of the audience, “Masquerade” truly works. As the final scene concluded, people around me were openly sobbing. Was this a collective sigh of relief after our escalator incident? More likely, it was a wave of compassion for the Phantom’s tragic fate. My own eyes, however, remained dry. I, for one, am weary of being compelled to care why problematic men behave badly. The Phantom already possesses all the best songs. Does he truly require our additional sympathy? Regardless, the music of the night continues to play on.
Masquerade
Through Nov. 30 at 215 West 57th Street, Manhattan. Running time: 2 hours 15 minutes.