We went to Masquerade, the immersive reimagining of The Phantom of the Opera in New York, on Saturday, and I can say without hesitation: it is incredible.
Not just good theater. Not just a clever immersive experience. It is a true artistic masterpiece. I know this isn't my normal blog content but I really wanted to write this because I was so enamored by this production.
Directed by Tony Award-winner Diane Paulus, Masquerade takes Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom out of the traditional theater and puts you inside the Paris Opera House. Instead of sitting in a seat watching the story unfold on a distant stage, you move through the building as the story happens around you.
The two leads we saw were both extraordinary, but what surprised me most was how completely the building itself becomes part of the production. The sets, costumes, lighting, sound, choreography and performers all work together so seamlessly that at some point you stop thinking about how they're pulling it off and simply surrender to it.
And that's really my biggest recommendation: give yourself over to the experience.
So, How Does Masquerade Actually Work?
This was the thing I was most curious about before going.
You arrive at 218 West 57th Street and enter using a secret password that is sent to you before the performance. Don't be late—they really do mean it when they say latecomers aren't admitted. Then use the bathroom.
A black, white or silver masquerade mask is required. You can absolutely bring your own—and if you're someone who likes dressing for an occasion, this is your moment—but they will provide one if you don't.
From there, your group begins moving through the building.
And I mean through the building.
You travel across multiple floors, through dressing rooms, backstage spaces, grand theatrical rooms, candlelit chambers, staircases, the Phantom's subterranean world and even onto the rooftop. The production describes the experience as moving from the "highest rooftop" all the way down to the Phantom's lair.
Some spaces are revisited as the story progresses, which makes the whole building feel less like a collection of sets and more like an actual world.
Our group was roughly 50 people—the production officially describes the groups as being limited to around 60—and you're simultaneously watching the story and inhabiting it.
But don't worry if the words "immersive theater" immediately make you nervous.
No one is going to drag you onto a stage and make you sing "Music of the Night."
You are never required to talk, dance or perform. If you look like someone who wants to engage, a character may interact with you. Performers occasionally come right up and speak to audience members as though they've known them forever. At other moments the Phantom himself simply materializes among the crowd.
That proximity is one of the best parts.
You're accustomed to seeing these performers from 50 or 100 feet away. Suddenly someone with a Broadway-caliber voice is singing just a few feet from you.
It's spectacular.
The Rooms
I don't want to give away too much because discovering the spaces is half the fun.
But you'll encounter versions of the Opera Populaire's rehearsal and stage spaces, dressing rooms and backstage areas, the Phantom's candlelit subterranean world and boat sequence, and the rooftop, where moments such as "All I Ask of You" unfold.
The massive chandelier naturally makes an appearance.
There are hidden passages, dramatic staircases and rooms that seem to completely transform between visits. The production is designed so that the architecture isn't simply holding the show—it is part of the show.
For an artist, that might have been my favorite element. Every room felt like walking into a painting where suddenly the figures started moving.
What Should You Wear to Masquerade?
Dress up.
Seriously.
This is one of those rare occasions where I don't think you can really go too far.
The official request is formal or elevated eveningwear in black, white, silver or a combination of the three. A mask in those colors is required as well.
There was one gentleman in our group wearing a polo-style shirt and they let him get away with it, but I wouldn't recommend following his lead.
If you're a guy who absolutely doesn't want to wear a suit, I'd at least go with black pants and a black collared shirt. You'll feel much more like you're part of the world around you.
For women, this is an opportunity to have some fun: cocktail dress, dramatic dress, jumpsuit, vintage-inspired eveningwear, lace, satin, velvet, a cape—go for it.
But there is one very important caveat: you need to be able to move.
You will be walking. You will be going up and down stairs and escalators. And sometimes the story moves from one room to another fairly quickly.
There was an older woman in our group who was definitely finding the stairs challenging, although she managed and there were ushers around to offer her an arm and a flashlight lighting her path.
And wear comfortable shoes.
I wore cute flats and was extremely glad I did. I think a chunky short heal would be perfect. Stilettos are actually prohibited, and once you've experienced the show you'll understand why. There were a few platform wedges in our group and they were just too tall and blocked everyone behind them.
Remember, nobody is looking at your feet because the performers are all stunning.
It's much more fun to be completely lost in the experience than spending two hours thinking about your aching feet or wondering whether you're about to tumble down a staircase in formalwear.
What Should You Bring?
As little as possible.
In fact, my recommendation would be: bring almost nothing.
Bags aren't permitted inside the experience itself, although complimentary bag and coat check is available.
I would leave as much as possible behind, including your phone if you can. You're not going to need it during the performance, and one of the unexpected pleasures of Masquerade is being forced to simply experience something without documenting it.
No photos. No checking texts. No looking up where you're going next.
Just be there.
If you get cold easily, you could bring a light jacket or wrap and check it if you don't need it. I'm naturally cold and was completely comfortable except one room where I happened to be standing right in front of the AC vent.
Is It Scary?
No.
Phantom is dark, romantic, strange and occasionally unsettling, but I would not describe this experience as scary.
There are certainly dark moments. There is haze, dramatic lighting, strobe and laser effects, and some scenes are intentionally eerie.
One sequence involving the carnival characters from the Phantom's childhood includes a clown-like character who is super sketchy looking but somehow also kind of beautiful.
That's actually a pretty good description of the entire production.
Beautiful. Strange. Dark. Romantic. Occasionally unsettling.
But not a haunted house.
A Few Things I Wish I'd Known
The entire experience runs about two hours with no intermission.
You should arrive on time with your entire party. Your password acts as your ticket, and you'll need a valid photo ID.
The official minimum age is currently 13, with guests under 16 accompanied by an adult.
And perhaps most importantly: don't spend the whole time trying to figure out how it works.
That was my instinct because the logistics are fascinating. But the less you're analyzing the machinery while you're inside it, the better the experience becomes.
And Then I Went Home and Tried to Figure Out How They Did It
Naturally, after the show I immediately started doing a little digging.
Because once you've seen Masquerade, one of the first questions is:
How on earth are they doing this night after night?
The audience enters in small, staggered groups, meaning multiple groups can be progressing through different portions of the building at the same time. That helps explain why the production requires such a deep bench of performers and why you may see different actors playing the principal roles depending upon your particular journey through the show.
The current cast roster alone is enormous, and that's before you account for the people you don't see: stage management, dressers, wardrobe, props, lighting, sound, automation, front-of-house staff and the army of people required to reset rooms and keep this giant theatrical machine moving. It says it takes about 100 people to pull everything off each night.
Tickets aren't cheap. Current official pricing starts around $195 and can climb considerably depending on the date and availability.
But having now experienced it, I understand the price much better.
This isn't 1,500 people sitting in a Broadway theater watching one stage.
It's a relatively small number of people walking through an enormous, intricately choreographed theatrical world filled with performers.
The economics of that must be absolutely wild.
Between the New York real estate, the cast, crew, costumes, sets, lighting, sound and sheer manpower required to keep all of those groups moving through the building, I'd love to see the spreadsheet behind it.
Actually, maybe I don't.
Is Masquerade Worth It?
For us, absolutely.
It's expensive. It's extravagant.
And that's part of why I loved it.
We spend so much of our lives looking at screens and consuming increasingly flattened versions of art. Masquerade asks you to put the phone away, put on something beautiful, cover your face with a mask and physically enter someone else's imagination for two hours.
There is something wonderfully old-fashioned about that—even though technologically and theatrically the production feels incredibly modern.
You hear extraordinary singers from only a few feet away. You climb staircases not knowing what is waiting at the top. A character whispers something to someone beside you. A door opens. The lighting changes. Music begins somewhere you weren't expecting.
And suddenly you're not watching The Phantom of the Opera anymore.
You're inside it.
For anyone who loves theater, art, costume, set design or simply the experience of seeing a lot of wildly talented people collaborate to make something seemingly impossible happen, I couldn't recommend it more.
Just wear comfortable shoes.
And for God's sake, don't be the guy in the polo.
