The Phantom Returns: An Intimate Masquerade in New York

By Laurel Sanders

The Phantom of the Opera is a fairly recent obsession for me. Within the last three months, I’ve become invested enough to spend absurd amounts of money on an interactive experience. I’m not a long-standing fan—and thank goodness. I was annoying enough in high school. If I had also been obsessed with Andrew Lloyd Webber’s sexy rock opera back then, it would’ve been a miracle if I had any friends at all. But I’m very glad I’ve fallen into this obsession at this point in my life.

At first, I was actually annoyed. How could I have only just now come to love the longest-running musical in Broadway history? Like, comically long-running. I’d had countless opportunities to see the show and simply never cared—young, ignorant fool that I was. By the time I became invested, the show had already been off Broadway for about two years.

That being said, the timing ended up feeling serendipitous. My obsession perfectly coincided with the announcement of Masquerade: The Phantom of the Opera Immersive Experience, a limited 12-week production. These tickets were expensive and hard to get. But oh my god, it was worth every penny.

It was a total gamble in the sense that you had no idea what you were walking into. Promotion started with a mysterious digital scavenger hunt. The Masquerade Instagram account would drop random NYC locations, leading fans to secret pop-ups—a violinist in Union Square Station, or a mask-maker hidden in the back of a bodega. The intrigue built before the event was even announced.

When it was finally confirmed that the Phantom was indeed returning to NYC, there was still little to no description of what the actual experience would be. You just had to blindly buy tickets and hope for the best. Fortunately, I had plenty of financially irresponsible friends willing to join me.

The instructions for the event were simple: wear white, silver, or black formal wear; wear a mask; and no high heels. (They really emphasized that last point, warning that the terrain was too dangerous for stilettos.) My favorite FAQ while researching was: “What happens if I get lost?” Having now been through it, I can confirm that’s a very valid question.

Even after attending, Masquerade is hard to describe. Essentially, your ticket corresponds to a time slot, and each time slot gets its own dedicated cast. At times, you’re broken into smaller groups, then reunited with your original group, and occasionally merged with other groups. Honestly, I couldn’t always tell what was happening, but the cast and crew guided everyone seamlessly through the labyrinth of rooms and floors. The production escalates as you move along, cutting and reimagining songs and scenes, but still hitting all the big moments in a satisfying way.

I was blown away. I’d say if you’re a fan, it’s a must-see. If you’re not a fan, it’s still a must-see—simply because it’s such a rare experience. Imagine a Broadway show staged for an intimate audience, with insanely talented actors performing just a foot away from you. You get to dress up, you’re given free drinks, and at one point, you even stumble into a circus with real performers who are as terrifying as they are mesmerizing. The sets and props are extraordinary, and the visuals curated by director Diane Paulus are breathtaking. The money I spent was absolutely worth it.

I’d recommend going in blind, as I did, but if you’re too curious, here are some details.

The event begins in a room decorated with ballet tutus hanging from the ceiling, where a violinist plays a medley from the musical. Already, the atmosphere is enchanting. The live music alone mesmerized the silent audience. From there, you’re led into another room where Madame Giry welcomes you to the opera house and teaches a short bit of choreography. It was a little silly to learn and perform, but undeniably fun.

Then the walls behind us burst open with lights, confetti, and sound, revealing a new room where the ensemble launched into Masquerade. The spectacle was jaw-dropping: the costumes, the dancing, the sheer energy. A particularly sweet surprise was Christine’s entrance. She was seemingly “picked” from the audience as actress Anna Zavelson blended in with the cast before being revealed. This is the magic of Masquerade with layer after layer of surprise.

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The cast I saw was phenomenal: Jeff Kready as the Phantom, Paul Adam Schaffer as Raoul, and, of course, Zavelson as Christine. Zavelson’s rendition of Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again was absolutely showstopping. A song I usually find dull in the film adaptation became raw and heartbreaking under her performance. Another standout moment was Raoul’s finale entrance, bound in ropes with harsh lighting casting his silhouette. Schaffer’s physical struggle against the restraints heightened the scene’s intensity to perfection.

And then there was Kready’s finale rendition of Masquerade. His heartbreak was palpable as the cast turned to the audience, gesturing for us to remove our masks. As he slowly made eye contact with each of us, our faces exposed, the immersive format added an almost unbearable poignancy to the moment.

That said, the immersive format does sacrifice some storytelling. Songs are shortened, scenes rearranged, and certain characters underdeveloped. Raoul, in particular, suffers from this treatment. He barely appears until the rooftop scene, making his love story with Christine less convincing. While All I Ask of You was breathtaking (performed on an actual New York rooftop) the emotional stakes felt weaker since we hadn’t spent much time with him.

Some iconic numbers also lost a bit of impact. My personal favorite, The Point of No Return, felt underwhelming, largely because the Phantom’s red cloak completely obscured him, diffusing the scene’s tension.

But that’s the funny thing, I don’t remember the iconic songs as vividly as I remember smaller, reimagined moments: the Phantom murdering Joseph Buquet, or his eerie dance with life-sized dolls of himself and Christine. Those surprises are what make this production unique. It’s not a line-by-line recreation of the original show or film; it’s something entirely new: a third option.

It’s surprising, emotional, immersive, and unlike anything else on stage. Not every Broadway show would work in this format; I can’t say I’d want to be immersed in the high school of Dear Evan Hansen, but stepping into a haunted Parisian opera house full of horrors and wonders? Absolutely.

If you’re in New York and have a couple of hundred dollars to spare… let the spectacle astound you.