If you’ve followed my love for musical theatre, you’ll already know that The Phantom of the Opera holds a special place in my heart. It’s not just a musical to me; it’s a constant source of inspiration and a treasure trove of memories. My Phantom journey began on Broadway in 1992, with Karen Culliver as Christine, Hugh Panaro as Raoul, and Mark Jacoby as the Phantom—a performance that left me spellbound and sparked a lifelong passion for this iconic show.
While the Original London Cast recording had been my go-to, my Phantom obsession reached a new level when I stumbled across something intriguing at Colony Records in New York City. There it was, sitting on the shelf like some rare artifact: Highlights from the Original Canadian Cast. At $54 (yes, for a cassette!), it was a splurge, but I couldn’t resist. The title made me wonder if a full recording existed, but alas, this highlights album was all that was ever recorded with this cast. Regardless, I snapped it up on the spot and have cherished it ever since. Fun fact: I still have that original cassette, along with the CD version I purchased a few years later.
While this recording was a Canadian treasure for years, only available to those of us in the U.S. willing to shell out a high price for it, the U.S. audiences finally got a taste when Decca released it stateside in the early 2000s. It’s a fascinating listen, featuring both unique takes from the Canadian cast and subtle updates to the score—most notably, lyric changes to Think of Me, a new ending to Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again and a slightly altered version of the Wandering Child scene, reflecting changes made after the London recording.
Let’s get straight to the point: Rebecca Caine is the reason this recording is an essential piece of Phantom history. From the very first notes of “Think of Me,” Caine’s Christine leaves an indelible impression. Her voice is stunning—soaring with purity, grace and emotional depth that’s impossible to ignore. And that breathtaking cadenza? It’s nothing short of perfection. What sets Caine apart is how she brings Christine to life with a balance of vulnerability and quiet strength. She doesn’t just sing the role; she inhabits it, giving listeners a Christine that feels authentic and multidimensional. Over the years, I’ve heard countless actresses tackle this role, but Rebecca Caine’s interpretation remains one of the finest ever recorded.
Byron Nease’s Raoul is another highlight of this album. Often dismissed as the “safe” choice in the love triangle, Raoul can sometimes fade into the background, but not here. Nease’s performance is warm, sincere and heartfelt, striking the perfect balance of charm and courage. His rendition of “All I Ask of You” is absolutely beautiful, brimming with tenderness and devotion. Nease’s voice carries an emotional weight that elevates the character and makes his Raoul truly stand out.
Then we come to Colm Wilkinson, a name synonymous with musical theatre royalty. As the Phantom, Wilkinson brings his powerhouse vocals and evocative tone to the role, delivering a performance that’s as unique as it is polarizing. While there’s no denying his talent, fans familiar with his portrayal of Jean Valjean in Les Misérables might find themselves hearing echoes of Valjean in his Phantom. For me, that familiarity slightly detracts from the Phantom’s otherworldly mystique and romantic despair. Still, Wilkinson’s interpretation adds a layer of intrigue to the recording and his vocal prowess is hard to ignore. Did you know that Colm was actually supposed to have originated the role in London? He had already sang the role in it's original incarnation before it was given the greenlight to open in London.
What makes the Canadian Cast recording particularly special is its subtle differences from the London Cast recording. As mentioned earlier, the Wandering Child scene reflects changes made after the show’s initial run, giving fans a glimpse into the evolving nature of the production. The revised lyrics scattered throughout the album also offer an alternate perspective on Andrew Lloyd Webber’s iconic score. Unlike the sprawling two-disc London Cast album, this highlights recording feels more accessible—not just because it’s shorter, but also because the selections are conveniently tracked, making it easy to jump to your favorite moments and it contains more of the musical numbers than the Highlights from the Original London Cast. And for those who love collecting rarities, the fact that this was the only material ever recorded with this cast makes it a fascinating piece of Phantom history.
Though it might not carry the same fame as its London counterpart, the Original Canadian Cast recording of Phantom is a gem in its own right. Rebecca Caine’s Christine is nothing short of revelatory, Byron Nease’s Raoul is heartfelt and compelling and Colm Wilkinson’s Phantom—while not quite the Phantom I prefer—offers a unique interpretation that’s worth exploring. For fans of Phantom who love discovering new layers or simply want to hear an alternate take on the show’s iconic score, this recording is well worth a listen. Whether you’re revisiting an old favorite or discovering it for the first time, it’s a reminder of why The Phantom of the Opera continues to captivate audiences worldwide.
Did you witness the Original Canadian Cast in person or have you listened to the Canadian Cast recording? Do you have a favorite Phantom cast album that holds a special place in your heart? I’d love to hear your thoughts and memories in the comments below. And if this post sparked a little Phantom nostalgia or gave you something new to explore, feel free to share it, pass it along, or drop a small token of support to keep these musical musings alive. It’s the little things that keep the magic going, and your kindness means more than words can say. 🎭
Every so often, life hands you an adventure so memorable that years later, you find yourself replaying it like a favorite song. For me, it involves many trips I've made in my life but this particular trip was January 1994, a few weeks shy of my 18th birthday, when I packed up my backpack, hopped on a Greyhound bus and braved Chicago’s frigid winds to see the 2nd National Tour of The Phantom of the Opera. It was my first time experiencing the show outside of Broadway and what I thought would be an “okay” production turned out to be a theatrical experience that stole my heart.
In the spring of 1993, I had just returned home from New York and found myself itching for an escape. With no school commitments tying me down and a supportive (if occasionally bemused) dad who trusted me to take care of myself, I set my sights on going to many places, including Chicago. Armed with a Discovery Pass for unlimited Greyhound rides, my adventure officially began.
The 20-hour bus ride was an experience unto itself. My trusty backpack carried the essentials: snacks, CDs, a Penny Press word search puzzle book and a copy of Whitley Strieber’s Communion, a chilling alien abduction read that definitely had me jumping at shadows in the darkness on the bus. I spent hours listening to The Phantom of the Opera (Canadian and London cast recordings), Starlight Express and an orchestral CD of symphony versions of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s music while munching on Slim Jims, Hostess Zingers, Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pies, Doritos and sipping Coca-Cola and Evian water, too excited to sleep but trying not to be bored. Somewhere in the midst of this rolling feast, a red-haired guy in a seat diagonal to mine kept turning around and throwing me smiles. But I wasn’t about to risk a bus hookup and miss my favorite show—not today, Satan.
When I stepped off the bus, Chicago greeted me with icy winds that could rival the chills of a haunted mansion. Even my trusty denim jacket and knitted hat couldn’t hold up against the city’s relentless cold. I was exhausted but too thrilled about seeing Phantom to let it dampen my spirits.
Finding a place to stay was another hurdle that I didn't think much about until I got there. As an under-18 traveler, hotels were off the table despite my stash of cash. My idea was actually to hustle a little and sleep over at the houses of random tricks but the cold air of Chicago changed my mind quickly. Thankfully, my Damron Guide (an indispensable resource for gay men navigating the pre-internet era) led me to a welcoming hostel where I fibbed about my age and crashed for a few nights, they didn't think twice about asking for ID when I pulled out a wad of cash to pay for my time there. The curtains on the bunk beds were a game-changer, offering a semblance of privacy that I had never seen in a hostel before, at least the ones I stayed in in new work. The sheets were comfortably thick which made the thin blanket situation more bearable.
Four performances at the Auditorium Theatre of Roosevelt University were the reason behind my trip. Prior to the first show, I ventured a few blocks down from the theatre and saw the fountain featured in the opening intro to the TV show Married With Children which I wish was actually running at the time but the cold weather didn't allow it. I wish I'd actually walked down to the banks of Lake Michigan but I didn't, perhaps one day I'll make the trip up there so I can at least mark it off my bucket list. The theater itself was stunning—massive, with unobstructed views that every Broadway venue should aspire to. The warmth of the audience buzzed in contrast to the bitter cold outside. It was a mix of middle-aged and older folks, with me sticking out like a sore thumb as an excitable teen. One lady next to me even asked where my parents were! Awkward. I did have a great conversation with a man before one of the shows, he'd seen this same production when it opened at the same theatre back in 1990 and he was impressed when I mentioned Mark Jacoby and Karen Culliver, my first Phantom and Christine on Broadway, the very two who starred in this production when it opened.
Let’s talk about the cast, because they delivered performances that left me floored:
Phantom played by Rick Hilsabeck brought a mesmerizing, ethereal quality to the role. His rendition of The Music of the Night had me riveted and I swear his movements on stage felt like he was gliding, feet never touching the floor.
As Raoul, Nat Chandler—hot. That’s it. If Christine didn't ride away with him in the boat at the end, I would. Oh, also, his voice was fabulous.
La Carlotta, Patricia Hurd was everything an opera diva should be—brassy, hilarious and so authentic that you couldn’t help but adore her spiteful character. Her voice was exactly what an operatic soprano should sound like and her facial expressions added to her over the top comedic moments.
And...As for Miss Christine Daaé, I saw three different ladies play the part among the matinee and 3 evening shows that I saw. Sarah Pfisterer, who I saw twice, looked strikingly youthful and I didn’t expect someone so young to command the stage with the extraordinary ability she displayed. Her crystal-clear voice was enchanting and I absolutely adored her performance. Then there was the alternate Christine, Rita Harvey, whose voice exuded such strength and control that it felt entirely plausible she could effortlessly replace Carlotta herself—and the audience would be none the wiser. Miss Harvey was remarkable, delivering each scene with powerful emotions. Kate Suber, however, had the most challenging task. When the announcement was made that she would be stepping in for Miss Pfisterer, the audience’s collective groan echoed through the theater and I’m sure it was audible backstage. My heart went out to her in that moment. Having witnessed a similar reaction during Raissa Katona’s performance on Broadway, I had a gut feeling the audience would be won over by the time Kate reached the second verse of "Think of Me." As it turned out, I was absolutely right. Her poise, talent and captivating rendition had the crowd completely enthralled by the end of her performance, proving beyond a doubt that she was more than deserving of the spotlight.
Even though this touring production didn’t have all the technical bells and whistles of Broadway—like trap doors or a massive chandelier—it held its own, delivering the magic and essence of Phantom in every scene. The chandelier was just a bit smaller and scaled down but had every bit of dramatic effect as it's Broadway counterpart.
Packing up for my return journey was bittersweet. I accidentally left behind my Phantom t-shirt, souvenir program and a Chicago skyline water globe, likely snagged by someone at the hostel. Throughout the 24-hour bus ride home, I felt mad at myself but while I was disappointed, the trip itself was the real treasure. My dad’s reaction when I got home—equal parts disbelief and complete belief was not surprising. I know Phantom wasn't his thing but he knew it was mine and this addiction, while a bit expensive, was better than drugs. I often wished that daddy could have witnessed the show to better understand why I loved it so much.
So there it is—my whirlwind trip to Chicago in pursuit of theatrical bliss. I hope my story inspires you to chase your passions, even when the journey seems daunting (and involves questionable bus snacks). Have you ever gone to great lengths for something you love? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments! If you enjoyed this glimpse into my world and feel like showing a little appreciation, any contributions are welcome. Every bit helps keep the adventures alive and the stories flowing. Thanks for being here—your support means everything!
Sometimes, life gives us moments so vivid, so exhilarating, they feel like they’re etched into the fabric of our very being. Today, I’m taking a trip back to one of those unforgettable moments: my very first time seeing The Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. It’s a story I’ve touched on before, but as I revisit old memories, I’m breathing new life into them, adding details that time has graciously revealed and reflecting on the experience from both the lens of wide-eyed youth and the perspective I’ve gained in the years since.
But first, let me give you a little insight into my journey with this spectacular show. Since that day in September 1992, I've seen The Phantom of the Opera over 100 times—a milestone I still can't quite believe myself! The enchanting music, the hauntingly beautiful set and the raw emotion of the performances kept drawing me back, like a moth to a flame. Over the years, I’ve had the honor of watching 26 or 27 incredible women bring Christine to life on stage. Each one brought something unique to the role and I’ll be sharing my thoughts on every one of them in future posts. But today, it’s all about the beginning—the memory that started it all.
When I stepped into New York City in 1992, I was already a devoted fan of the show’s music, thanks to the Original London Cast recording, which had practically been on repeat for months. Back then, in my mind, I couldn’t separate the voices on the cast album from the show itself. I’d envisioned seeing Michael Crawford and Sarah Brightman on stage, as if their performances were an eternal part of the show’s essence. Of course, reality quickly reminded me that casts change and the Broadway stage is a living, breathing force that evolves with time. By the time I arrived, Michael Crawford had already left the Broadway company and Mark Jacoby—the sixth full time Phantom to grace Broadway—had taken up the iconic mask. Karen Culliver, whose voice I’d soon fall in love with, was captivating audiences as Christine. Even Hugh Panaro, a future Phantom in his own right, was playing the role of Raoul.
The excitement was palpable. My friend Al, an amazing and thoughtful companion, had secured tickets for a matinee performance—a day I’d been eagerly counting down to. But, as fate would have it, my other friend Sergio kept me out all night at an after-hours club, leaving me thoroughly sleep-deprived. Still, there was no way I was missing this show. Bleary-eyed but thrilled, I made my way to the theater, ready to soak in the magic.
Looking back now, that day is a kaleidoscope of emotions—my first taste of Broadway grandeur, the melodies that tugged at my soul and the sheer joy of witnessing such talent live on stage. It’s a memory I hold close to my heart, not just for what it was, but for what it ignited: a lifelong love affair with musical theater.
Stay tuned, because this is just the beginning. I’ll be sharing more stories, diving into the performances that stood out, the casts that amazed and even my experiences with other iconic Broadway productions. But for now, I hope this glimpse into the August 1992 performance will paint a picture of the magic that began it all for me.
Prologue The auction scene began with a resounding strike of the gavel, immediately commanding attention as the auctioneer declared, “Sold!” The lights rose to reveal an eager crowd bidding on relics from the opera house’s storied past. Among them was an elderly man in a wheelchair, who quietly sang to a mesmerizing Monkey in Persian Robes music box. The intricate creation came to life, rhythmically clashing its tiny cymbals, adding an eerie charm to the moment. When Lot 666 was unveiled—a majestic chandelier that burst to life with flashes of light—the theater seemed to pulsate with energy. Tears welled in my eyes, and a shiver ran down my spine. I was completely overwhelmed by the realization: I was finally here, witnessing in person the spectacle I had dreamed about for so long.
Overture The overture swept through the theater, rich and full, just as I had heard it countless times on the cast album. It was every bit as magnificent as I had imagined, and yet the live experience made it feel even more powerful. As the iconic chandelier began its ascent, the stage scenery also began to come to life. Drop cloths were dramatically pulled away, unveiling the breathtaking proscenium adorned with shimmering golden figures. The sight was so stunning it almost felt like stepping into another world. When the chandelier reached its full height, casting its glow over the audience, the overture reached its dramatic climax before tapering off. And then, there she was—Carlotta, portrayed by the brilliant Marilyn Caskey—standing center stage, poised and ready to dazzle us with her commanding presence.
Marilyn Caskey & Gary Rideout
Hannibal/Think of Me Marilyn Caskey’s portrayal of Carlotta was a refreshing departure from the bold and brassy soprano stylings of Rosemary Ashe on the London Cast recording. While Caskey’s interpretation had a different quality, she was far from lacking; in fact, she was absolutely incredible, effortlessly tackling the high notes in the opening. I dare say her performance was even more intriguing to my ears than that of the actress on the cast album. Her comedic timing in the Hannibal scene was flawless, particularly during her interactions with Piangi, played by the brilliant Gary Rideout. Together, their chemistry was nothing short of magical, enhancing every moment they shared on stage.
Karen Culliver
Carlotta’s rendition of Think of Me caught me slightly off guard—not only were the lyrics different from what I knew from the cast album, but the song itself was a bit longer. Still, it was a delightful surprise. Later in the scene, when the backdrop narrowly missed Carlotta, Caskey delivered a show-stopping "meltdown" that had the entire audience in stitches, myself included, until her dramatic exit from the stage.
Then there was Karen Culliver as Christine—an absolute revelation. Her voice carried a youthful strength that I found even more compelling than Sarah Brightman’s. Her rendition of Think of Me was nothing short of perfection and those rewritten lyrics? I actually preferred them to the original. Throughout the scene, I was completely transfixed; not only was Culliver's voice stunning, but her stage presence radiated such beauty and charisma, it was impossible to look away.
Hugh Panaro as Raoul
Hugh Panaro as Raoul also stood out as a highlight of the performance. His voice, though higher in tone than Steve Barton’s from the original cast recording, was beautifully clear and felt perfectly suited to the role. It brought a fresh take to the character without ever being jarring. Many years later when he rejoined the cast as The Phantom, I had reservations regarding his voice but he's got a voice of gold that can fit into many roles.
Angel of Music Leila Martin’s Madame Giry exuded a subtle air of foreboding, her presence tinged with the authority of an older elementary school teacher—one who didn’t just expect respect but commanded it. Whether she spoke or sang, her performance demanded and held your undivided attention. The role seemed almost tailor-made for her, though perhaps her nearly five years of experience in the part had honed her portrayal to perfection.
Christine’s dressing room was charmingly minimalist—just a small space adorned with a mirrored vanity and a large mirror facing the audience, positioned next to the door. There was undeniable chemistry between Karen Culliver as Christine and Catherine Ulissey as Meg, they felt like lifelong friends, their bond effortlessly believable. Catherine’s vocals were perfectly suitable for the role, but it was clear her real strength lay in her dancing—a skill well-suited to Meg, whose character is, after all, primarily a dancer rather than a singer.
As the scene unfolded, I began to truly appreciate Karen’s immense talent. Her acting ability was every bit as impressive as her singing, perhaps even surpassing it. She didn’t just confide in Meg about the Angel of Music; she confided in every single member of the audience, drawing us into her world with remarkable authenticity and grace.
Little Lotte/The Mirror Hugh Panaro's portrayal of Raoul in the Little Lotte scene was nothing short of captivating. His effortless charm could make anyone swoon, leaving you to wonder why Christine didn’t simply run off with him and call it a day. But, of course, had she done that, the story’s hauntingly beautiful unraveling would cease to exist.
And then came the moment that truly defined the Phantom’s presence—the moment when Mark Jacoby’s voice filled the theater. Though we’d been offered a taste of his haunting vocals earlier, this was the moment where his talent truly shined and Jacoby made his mark. He wasn’t a Michael Crawford replica—far from it. He brought his own powerful essence to the role, wielding his voice with mesmerizing control. Every syllable and note carried a dramatic intensity, simultaneously startling and enchanting the audience.
The scene climaxed with the iconic mirror opening, revealing the path Christine was destined to take. As she stepped through, beginning her journey with the Phantom, there was an undeniable finality to the moment. You knew there was no turning back—for Christine or for yourself. From then on, you were locked into the story until the very last note.
The Phantom of the Opera This iconic scene, the very heartbeat of the show, was nothing short of mesmerizing. Although the vocals were pre-recorded, it didn’t matter in the slightest—the magic was all-encompassing. The haunting melody, driven by the deep, resonant sound of the bass guitar, synthesizer and drums, created a soundscape that was utterly entrancing. Mark Jacoby and Karen Culliver’s stellar vocals soared through the theater, perfectly synchronized with the stunning visuals unfolding on stage. The boat gliding across the misty lake, illuminated by an ethereal blue glow, swirling smoke that curled like whispers of mystery and candles rising gracefully from beneath the stage—all of this transformed the space into an almost dreamlike dimension. As the scenery moved seamlessly into place, the audience was swept away, fully immersed in the captivating world being created before their eyes. It was, quite simply, an unforgettable theatrical experience. This was also still at a time when the audiences applauded when the boat came into view. Somewhere along the way, this stopped, except during special milestone performances.
Mark Jacoby
The Music of the Night Though undeniably a classic in musical theater and a staple in any collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s work, The Music of the Night has always been my least favorite song from the show. It’s hard to pinpoint why; perhaps its familiarity overshadows its intrigue. Nevertheless, Mark Jacoby's commanding voice breathed new life into the tune, cutting through the melody with effortless precision and carrying the audience along with him. His performance was magnetic and left everyone wanting more, even from a song that wasn’t as personally thrilling to me.
I Remember/Stranger Than You Dreamt It This scene was undoubtedly an emotional turning point in the show—a moment of raw vulnerability and intense drama. Christine’s curiosity led her to the brink as she removed the Phantom’s mask, an act of wonder and fascination that unleashed a whirlwind of tension. In that instant, it was clear she had picked the wrong man to provoke. Mark Jacoby's commanding voice and Karen Culliver’s emotionally charged acting reached their peak, creating an electrifying interplay that held the audience spellbound. The Phantom’s mood swung with a startling ferocity, dragging himself across the stage in a storm of emotion. And yet, as Christine returned his mask, a quiet shift took place. The rage dissolved almost as quickly as it had erupted and in its place, a rare glimpse of humanity emerged. Christine’s expression of pity and the Phantom’s realization that she might be the one person willing to see him as more than a monster offered a poignant moment of connection. It wasn’t just about an overprotective, tortured genius anymore—it was about something deeper. For a fleeting moment, the audience glimpsed the delicate thread of hope beneath the Phantom’s anguish.
Magical Lasso/Notes/Prima Donna In later years of my Phantom fandom, these scenes sometimes became my go-to restroom break moments. However, during those early days, I wouldn’t dare miss a single second. The Magical Lasso scene, though brief, packed a punch thanks to Leila Martin’s captivating Madame Giry. Her ominous warning to Buquet and the ballet girls about The Phantom was chilling and commanding, delivered with a perfect balance of fear and authority. The scene transitioned swiftly into the manager’s office, where Andre, portrayed by Jeff Keller, and Firmin, played by George Lee Andrews, grappled with The Phantom’s ominous notes. Each ensemble member made their entrance with their own letter, weaving together a narrative of The Phantom’s obsession with Christine, his disdain for both Raoul and Carlotta and his fury at the managers’ decision to cut off his monthly allowance.
The comedic timing in this scene was nothing short of brilliant. George Lee Andrews, Jeff Keller and Marilyn Caskey led the charge, their performances brimming with humor while still preserving the underlying tension. Their vocal chemistry, along with the talents of Gary Rideout, Hugh Panaro, Catherine Ullissey and Leila Martin, added richness to this ensemble number. Marilyn Caskey stood out once again, delivering a breathtaking final note at the end of Prima Donna. Her commanding presence and vocal prowess were a powerful reminder of why she was the diva of the opera house—at least, until The Phantom decided Christine would take her place.
Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh Marilyn Caskey and the ensemble delivered an impeccable performance in this scene, bringing every detail to life with perfect precision. Caskey’s portrayal of Carlotta shone brilliantly and her hilarious croaks after the Phantom confronted her for calling Christine a "Little Toad" were nothing short of unforgettable. The timing, the delivery and the sheer absurdity of it all made her croaks possibly the best I’ve ever witnessed.
Why Have You Brought Me Here?/Raoul, I’ve Been There/All I Ask of You This scene unfolded like a dream, a moment delicately balanced between reality and fantasy. The rooftop setting was so immersive that it felt as though you were truly perched high above the city at night—complete with the stillness of the evening, though thankfully without the gusty winds that would have accompanied such heights. The combination of Hugh Panaro and Karen Culliver’s performances brought an air of authenticity to the grandeur and romance of the moment. Their chemistry really did feel real and their incredible acting made the emotions between Raoul and Christine feel completely genuine, as if you were witnessing an intimate exchange rather than a staged performance.
Hugh Panaro & Karen Culliver
While I’d love to recount more details, I must admit that my exhaustion from the night before caught up with me during this scene. In those moments of dreamlike storytelling, my sleep-deprived self may have drifted off slightly, but the impression left behind was one of beauty and enchantment.
All I Ask of You (I Gave You My Music) While I might have drifted off for a moment earlier, the instant the angel statue began to descend, revealing The Phantom within it, I was jolted wide awake. Mark Jacoby’s beautiful and commanding voice, delivered with a quiet but powerful intensity, captivated me completely. Despite his restrained vocal approach in this scene, every note seemed to carry weight and emotion. Having studied the libretto from my copy of the London Cast Recording, I knew exactly what was coming next and anticipation built within me. As the angel statue rose back into place, the moment arrived—the iconic chandelier didn’t just lower; it plummeted with dramatic force over the audience, swinging toward Christine on stage with breathtaking precision. The spectacle exceeded every expectation I had, leaving me awestruck.
In that instant, a bittersweet realization washed over me. I was halfway through the performance I had dreamed of experiencing for so long. While I was eager to see the rest unfold, part of me longed for a rewind button—to relive every magical moment of the first act before continuing. The beauty and grandeur of the scene lingered in my mind, setting the stage for the unforgettable second half.
At intermission, my friend Al surprised me with a souvenir program—the original white one with the elegant red tassel—and a margarita from the bar in the lobby. In hindsight, indulging in a margarita might not have been the best idea given how tired I was, but who could resist such a treat in the theater of my favorite musical? The margarita was delicious and the entire ambiance added to the magic of the experience.
When we returned to our seats, I found myself captivated by the conversations unfolding around us. Members of the audience were enthusiastically comparing the actors on stage to their counterparts from the cast recording, as well as other productions and cast lineups they had seen in the past. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy as some mentioned having witnessed the original cast in London or on Broadway. That was a dream I would never fulfill without a time machine, but despite my quiet jealousy, gratitude won out. I was here, in this theater, witnessing the incredible talent of the current cast. It felt like a privilege to experience their unique interpretations and bring my long-held dream to life.
Entr’acte And so, act two began. After what felt like the longest 15 minutes ever—otherwise known as intermission—I was more than ready to dive back into the magic of the show.
Masquerade/Why So Silent George Lee Andrews and Jeff Keller opened the act before the iconic staircase was revealed as the curtains rose, along with the most colorful set of costumes on a massive ensemble of actors, and also some mannequins that many of us didn't realize weren't actual people. There was also the whimsical monkey girl with cymbals, just like the music box from the prologue and it was even more magical than I thought it could ever get. As the party in the scene was at full force, The Phantom made his entrance, in his dramatic “Red Death” costume with the score of the "Opera" he had just completed. When Mark threw the score to the managers, I actually wondered how many times did one of the actors not catch the book since the show had debuted on Broadway, to this day I wonder though I not once witnessed it not being caught in any of the performances I'd witnessed. The moment The Phantom snatches Christine’s necklace and declares, “Your chains are still mine, you will sing for me” I must have blinked, slowly, because I didn't understand how he disappeared and reappeared in another part of the stage as quickly as he did.
Notes/Twisted Every Way Back in the manager’s office, we were treated to another round of The Phantom’s infamous notes. This time, the messages revolved around his demands for the upcoming performance of his new opera, along with yet another reminder of his fixation on Christine. The tension in the room was palpable as the managers, performers, Giry and Raoul reacted to his unrelenting control. When Marilyn Caskey, in her role as Carlotta, delivered the line, “Christine Daaé, she doesn’t have the voice,” I couldn’t help but chuckle—Karen Culliver as Christine had been nothing short of spectacular, her voice soaring with strength throughout the performance so she definitely did have the voice. It was a delightful moment that highlighted both the tension and humor skillfully interwoven into the scene.
A Rehearsal for Don Juan Triumphant This scene truly hit the mark, capturing the chaotic energy of a rehearsal with remarkable authenticity. The disarray among the performers and the palpable tension in the air made the moment feel vividly alive. Seeing it live, I gained new insights into the dynamics of the characters—most notably Christine’s unexpected attempt to assist Piangi. Watching her try to help Gary Rideout’s Piangi as he struggled with his lines added a touch of humanity, and Christine's possible insight to the written material, to the scene, a detail I’d never fully appreciated until witnessing it in person. Rideout’s portrayal of Piangi was exceptional, delivering both humor and frustration in equal measure and Christine’s small act of support offered a glimpse of compassion amidst the turmoil.
Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again / Wandering Child / Bravo, Bravo This scene is exactly why I sometimes wish I had access to a time machine—or at the very least, hadn’t indulged in that intermission margarita. As Karen Culliver began to sing the opening verses of Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again in the graveyard scene, I blanked out entirely. Or, to put it bluntly, I nodded off. I missed the entire sequence, stirring only slightly when the heat of the flames at the end of the scene jolted me back into semi-consciousness, only to drift off again.
I have no doubt that Karen delivered a remarkable performance—I’ve seen her perform this piece many times since and she always brought incredible emotion to it. But in that moment, during my first time seeing the show I had built up so much anticipation for, I completely missed an iconic scene. Looking back, I can’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and regret. Falling asleep, even from sheer exhaustion, feels like such a disservice to the experience I’d dreamed about for so long but hey, I got one hell of a unique story attached to my first time seeing the show.
Before the Premiere/Seal My Fate During these moments, I was fast asleep, and my friend Al didn’t have the heart to wake me. I imagine he saw me peacefully dozing, perhaps even looking adorable in my exhaustion and decided to let me rest.
The Point of No Return Sadly, I don’t remember this scene either—I was still deeply asleep.
Karen Culliver & Mark Jacoby
Down Once More/Track Down This Murderer/Beyond the Lake When I finally woke up, Christine was in her wedding dress. The realization that I had missed two major numbers of the show hit me, but I wasn’t yet fully alert enough to absorb what was unfolding on stage. Then, Christine kissed the Phantom, setting off a pivotal and deeply emotional sequence. As Mark Jacoby’s Phantom made the heartbreaking decision to release Raoul from the Punjab lasso—an incredibly dramatic moment I regrettably missed—I was struck by the raw emotion of the scene. Watching Hugh Panaro’s Raoul, vulnerable and ensnared in the noose, added to the gravity of the Phantom’s sacrifice.
The Phantom’s choice to let Christine leave with Raoul was both devastating and beautiful. It was in those final moments that the weight of the story truly hit me. Tears streamed down my face—not because I had missed so much of the action but because Mark Jacoby’s portrayal of the Phantom was utterly soul-crushing in its vulnerability. As he clutched Christine’s wedding veil, now alone once more, the sorrow in his final moments on stage was almost unbearable. When he sang the haunting last line of the show, “It’s over now, the music of the night!”, the reality sank in—the performance had ended. Yet, even as the curtain fell, I already felt the pull to return to the box office for another chance to experience the magic.
As the actors took their bows, I was on my feet instantly, giving them the applause they deserved after the most breathtaking 2 hours and 45 minutes I’d ever spent anywhere. I was completely enamored with every actor and actress on stage, but my admiration for Mark Jacoby burned brightest. His performance inspired me and for a fleeting moment, I dreamed of becoming the youngest Phantom of the Opera of all time—perhaps before I turned 19. Of course, fate had other plans; by 19, my voice hadn’t aged or matured in the way I’d hoped and even now, 30 years later, aside from improved stamina and range, my voice hasn’t changed much since my teens. Fortunately, my voice did fit a couple of other roles in some Lloyd Webber penned shows and for the short time I found myself in musical theatre, I made the most of what I had to work with.
While I didn’t attend the evening performance, Al and I ended the day with an early dinner at the Caliente Cab Company before heading back to his apartment. I crashed almost immediately, brushing my teeth and collapsing into bed for a much-needed rest. Over the next several months—from September 1992 until I left New York City in March 1993—I saw The Phantom of the Opera 34 more times at the Majestic Theatre. Each performance felt more exhilarating than the last and Karen Culliver as Christine was consistently outstanding, delivering breathtaking performances every time she took the stage. Over time, I also had the pleasure of seeing LuAnn Aronson and Raissa Katona in the role, each of whom brought their own unique strengths to Christine. Both were absolutely delightful to watch and in certain moments, offered interpretations that rivaled or even surpassed what I’d come to expect. Their distinct approaches added even more depth and variety to my experience of the show.
Since that unforgettable first show, my Phantom journey has expanded well beyond Broadway. I’ve had the privilege of experiencing productions by the Christine Company in Los Angeles and San Francisco, the Raoul Company and the Music Box Company (respectively the 2nd and 3rd National Tours) across various locations in the United States and even the North American Tour during its Atlanta stop in 2013. Each performance was unique in its own way, yet the brilliance of the original Hal Prince-directed production remains unparalleled in my heart. It holds an eternal place in my soul, a shining beacon of artistic excellence that continues to inspire me—and I know it always will.
Thank you for joining me as I relived my first and many subsequent experiences with The Phantom of the Opera. Every performance has enriched my life and I love sharing these memories with fellow fans and theater enthusiasts. What are your favorite Phantom moments? Have you seen the Broadway production, touring companies or perhaps another version altogether? I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to share them in the comments below! If you enjoyed this post and feel inspired, consider showing your appreciation in a way that helps me continue writing and sharing my stories. Whether it’s a thoughtful comment, a kind word or another gesture of support, it means the world to me. Thank you for being a part of my journey!
If you know me even a little, you know how deeply The Phantom of the Opera has woven itself into the fabric of my life. It’s not just a musical for me; it’s a constant companion, a source of inspiration and a gateway to some of my most cherished memories. My real love for Phantom came full circle in 1992, the first time I saw the musical on Broadway. I can still picture that evening: Karen Culliver as Christine, Hugh Panaro as Raoul and the unforgettable Mark Jacoby as the Phantom. Though I did fall asleep for a few minutes in the second act, not because I was bored but because I was super sleepy. I will share that story soon.
I’ll admit, I left the Majestic Theatre that night wishing there was a cast album featuring them—but back in the day, options were limited. Unless you wanted to hear Phantom in German, Swedish, Japanese or the Canadian cast highlights, all of which I love, you were left with the iconic Original London Cast recording as the definitive version available in the U.S. And to be honest? That wasn’t such a bad thing. The main tunes on this recording is also available in a 14 track highlighted release, though Music of the Night is presented in the form of the "single" version rather than what's heard on the complete cast recording.
Throughout the years, this recording has remained a cornerstone of my Phantom obsession. In 1992, it wasn’t unusual to catch me wandering the streets of New York City, Walkman in hand, with Michael Crawford’s Phantom accompanying my every step. Fast forward to today and it’s still on rotation. I’ve got it on CD, vinyl and digitally loaded on my phone. Sure, I’ve since collected other international cast albums (because, of course I have), but this one holds a special place in my heart. So let’s dive into why this recording is such a classic.
Andrew Lloyd Webber’s score is nothing short of a powerhouse. Romantic, haunting and undeniably grand, it made dramatic organ chords cool again and gave us melodies that are impossible to forget. Sure, sharp-eared critics have pointed out a few nods to classical composers like Puccini and Debussy, but the result is uniquely Phantom.
Listening to the Original London Cast recording feels like opening a time capsule. From the moment the overture hits, you’re transported into the sweeping drama that defined a whole generation of theatre-goers. Michael Crawford as the Phantom is absolutely mesmerizing. His voice captures every layer of the character’s heartbreak and madness. Those high notes? Chilling, in the most deliciously theatrical way.
Sarah Brightman as the original Christine Daaé is a name forever tied to the show’s legacy. Many fans regard her as the best, some have changed their minds over the years and say Sierra Boggess captured that spot for them after the 25th Anniversary performance at Royal Albert Hall was released. Let me be honest here—I’m a bigger fan of Brightman’s solo albums than her Christine. Her middle range is lovely, but when she pushes into the higher registers, it can feel a bit sharp to my ears and her vibrato is a bit, well, much. That said, I have endless respect for what she achieved as the first Christine. She paved the way for the many talented women who followed, setting a benchmark for years to come. Having seen 25 (yes, 25!) Christines since, I can’t help but draw comparisons, but Brightman’s trailblazing performance deserves its place in the Phantom hall of fame.
Steve Barton’s Raoul often gets overlooked, but his performance on this recording is stellar. His “All I Ask of You” is smooth, heartfelt and everything you’d want from the role. It’s a shame that his stint as the Phantom, alongside Rebecca Luker as Christine, never got an official release—it’s the stuff of sought-after bootleg legend.
The music on this recording is a rollercoaster of emotion. “Music of the Night” is rich and hypnotic, pulling you into the Phantom’s world, while lighter moments like “Notes”/“Prima Donna” inject wit and charm into the drama. And let’s not forget the title song—it’s practically a love letter to the 1980s, with a distinct disco undertone. Honestly? That’s part of its charm. It’s a unique product of its time, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Ah, the quirks of the original CD release! If you bought it back in the day, you’ll remember the lack of individual track divisions. Lloyd Webber wanted listeners to experience it as one continuous piece. Admirable in theory, but not the easiest thing to navigate on a discman or the typical CD player at the time. Luckily, later editions fixed this, but there’s a certain nostalgia in remembering those fast-forward-and-rewind days.
Despite its dated elements and quirks, the Original London Cast recording of The Phantom of the Opera remains a classic. Michael Crawford’s Phantom is iconic, Sarah Brightman’s Christine set the stage for generations of performers and Steve Barton’s Raoul is effortlessly charming. Together, they created a recording that captures the magic of a phenomenon that’s stood the test of time.
What’s your favorite Phantom memory? Are you team Original London Cast or is there another recording that holds a special place in your heart? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below! And hey, if you enjoyed this little walk down Phantom memory lane, feel free to share it, pass it along, or drop a little support to help keep these musical musings alive. Every little bit makes a difference—and it’s always appreciated. 🎭
It’s no secret that I’m a Phantom of the Opera superfan. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of watching the show over a hundred times across six different productions. Excessive? Perhaps to some. But for me, this musical never loses its magic—it’s a world I can escape into again and again. Since moving to Atlanta in 1997, locally, I’ve been lucky to see both the Raoul Company (2nd National Tour) and the Music Box Company (3rd National Tour), the latter during its 2001, 2005 and 2010 stops. I'd seen both companies in other cities as well as the Broadway, Los Angeles and San Francisco productions many times prior to settling down in Atlanta. Even though I didn’t love the 2004 film adaptation, I’ll admit the soundtrack had its charm for what it was.
Fast forward to 2013, when I heard the new North American tour was heading to Atlanta. Naturally, I was intrigued. My friend Ernie even decided to visit and catch the show with me, people always seem to enjoy watching Phantom by my side. I guess knowing all the details—blocking, costumes, sets even sound cues—makes me a handy guide. From the advertisements, the production seemed like a modernized take on the original. So, with tickets secured, we set out for a night at the Fox Theatre.
Spoiler alert: it wasn’t what I’d hoped for.
Let’s rewind to the evening itself. Terry, Ernie and I arrived at the Fox Theatre, clutching our $100+ tickets. Our dress circle seats were tight—not quite what I remembered from previous shows. Was the view worth the price tag? Honestly, not really. Going in, I didn’t know much about the cast, other than Linda Balgord (whom I’d seen in Sunset Boulevard and Cats) and Ben Jacoby, son of Mark Jacoby—my very first Phantom and later on the Wizard in Wicked when Ernie and I snuck into the Fox. That connection was fun, at least.
As the Mighty Mo organ began to fill the theater prior to the show starting and as the audience filled their seats, I noticed something was off. Maria Bjornson’s breathtaking designs? Gone. The iconic proscenium? Nowhere in sight. Even the chandelier wasn’t the imposing centerpiece I was used to—it just hung there with a drop cloth. It became clear this production would be… different. Rather than a typical review of the show as a whole, I'm going to walk you through scene by scene from my memory of over 10 years ago.
Prologue
The auction scene didn’t kick off with the iconic gavel strike and dramatic “Sold!” Instead, it opened with actors casually entering the stage. A younger-looking Raoul, sans wheelchair, sang to the Monkey in Persian Robes music box, which came to life with a small, modernized design. When Lot 666 was revealed, the chandelier—already halfway lowered—was barely illuminated. I couldn’t help but feel let down.
Overture
The overture sounded rich and full, with updated orchestral elements that retained the melody we all know and love. If you're unaware it's mostly pre-recorded and the orchestra just plays along. But as the chandelier’s cloth was pulled away, the reveal of a scaled-down version with minimal effects was underwhelming. Gone was the dramatic magic of the chandelier rising as the curtains lifted. Instead, the stage was already filled with performers rehearsing Hannibal. This was the moment I realized the production might fall short of all of my expectations.
Hannibal/Think of Me
Jacquelynne Fontaine’s Carlotta handled the high notes with ease, in fact, she transitioned briefly into some whistle notes. Her her voice seemed more suited to Christine’s role. She lacked the commanding, brassy sound of an opera diva and her comedic moments felt muted. Carlotta’s Think of Me lacked flair, with sandbags falling far from her—a stark contrast to the Hal Prince production, where the backdrop narrowly misses Carlotta, sparking a more dramatic reaction. Julia Udine as Christine was a vocal standout. Her rendition of Think of Me was flawless, showcasing incredible vocal control as she delivered the Claire Moore/Rebecca Caine cadenza, typically heard in UK productions. I looked at both Terry and Ernie and said "she WILL be a Christine on Broadway one day soon." Yet the staging lacked luster; the scarf wasn’t prominently featured and a costume malfunction added some unintended humor. Thankfully, Hannah Florence (as Meg) cleverly recovered, turning the flub into a prop during the choreography. Ben Jacoby’s Raoul was another highlight, his voice uncannily reminiscent of his father’s. It was a lovely connection for me, considering Mark Jacoby was my very first Phantom.
Angel of Music
Linda Balgord’s Madame Giry felt more prominent in this version, stepping into the spotlight rather than lurking in the shadows. Christine’s dressing room—oddly spacious enough for ballet practice—added an unconventional dynamic. Julia and Hannah’s chemistry as Christine and Meg was a joy to watch. Hannah’s perfectly in-tune vocals stood out—a refreshing change from some past Megs who struggled vocally. Up to this point, aside from Ben and Julia knocking it out of the park during Think of Me, I am beyond underwhelmed. This is the section of the show where things begin to really take shape in the more familiar Hal Prince directed productions. Do you think it will for this one? Let's continue.
Little Lotte/The Mirror
Ben Jacoby was, without question, a standout as Raoul. His voice was pure perfection—flawless in tone and delivery, reminiscent of his father. I would LOVE to one day see Ben step into the role of Phantom. Julia Udine gave a solid performance as Christine, though her acting felt restrained. It seemed as though she’d been directed with a “less is more” approach, which left certain moments in this scene feeling muted. Now, let’s talk about that dressing room set. Something about it just didn’t sit right with me. It had an odd, mobile home vibe that felt entirely out of place for a glamorous opera house. The trailer-like door Raoul exited through didn’t help matters—it looked flimsy and cheap, which only added to the disconnect.
When the Phantom’s voice cut through the speakers with the opening lines of the Angel of Music reprise, my heart sank. Cooper Grodin’s voice wasn’t theatrical; it leaned more toward a pop or rock style that felt out of place in such a dramatic role. It reminded me of Dee Snider’s Broadway album, though Snider at least sang entirely in tune. The mirror scene, a moment steeped in eerie mystery in other productions, was a letdown here. The mirror itself was a massive, square-shaped object that looked out of place in Christine’s dressing room. When Christine entered the mirror, the transition felt rushed and clunky. Instead of the Phantom guiding her in with a patient, hypnotic allure, Grodin physically snatched her in, which robbed the scene of its usual nuance.
The Phantom of the Opera
Ah, the most iconic scene in the show—or at least, it’s supposed to be. This moment usually defines the production, with its candelabras, candles rising from the floor, ethereal blue lighting, swirling smoke and the unforgettable boat gliding across a misty lake. Unfortunately, this production stripped away much of that magic. This was the one scene where Cooper Grodin’s vocals were in tune, though, as in the original staging, his lines were pre-recorded. Instead of the travelator, the production featured a rotating “tower” with the Phantom and Christine descending down from the top as stairs extended from the tower walls, which I thought was actually a bit more cool than the original. Though I thought it was a nice touch but couldn’t make up for the absence of the iconic candles and candelabras. And the boat? Well, it was narrow, boxy and completely devoid of elegance. The breathtaking imagery of the Phantom and Christine crossing the lake, surrounded by glowing candles, was reduced to a cheap-looking boat moving over LED-lit fog.
The Phantom’s lair was equally disappointing. Gone were the throne, the Mirror Bride and the dual-purpose boat-bed. What remained was a sparse space with an organ, some real candles and a bed. It felt amateurish and underwhelming for such a pivotal scene. Grodin’s delivery of “Sing for Me…” at the song’s climax was loud and emotionless—more reminiscent of high school acting than the tortured brilliance we associate with the Phantom. Julia’s high notes were stunning, but her response to them felt disconnected, which lessened the impact of the moment, though that could have been attributed to the distance I was from the stage.
The Music of the Night
The lackluster portrayal of the Phantom continued here. Grodin stood stiffly in front of Christine, staring at her as though he were trying to impress a date at karaoke night. The performance was devoid of movement or charisma. There was no “floating, falling” pose, no ethereal energy. At one point, he even covered Christine’s eyes with a blindfold, which was awkward and uncomfortable to watch. And I hate to compare actors, but Grodin’s voice, for me, was less impressive than Gerard Butler’s in the 2004 film. At least Butler had some emotional resonance in his performance and I didn't mind that he didn't possess a legitimate voice.
I Remember/Stranger Than You Dreamt It
This scene is supposed to be an emotional turning point, where Christine’s curiosity leads her to uncover the Phantom’s vulnerability. In this production, however, the scene fell completely flat. Rather than pulling off the Phantom’s mask in a moment of fear and fascination, Christine simply picked it up off the organ while he applied makeup. Seriously? The dramatic tension was nonexistent. To make matters worse, the Phantom shoved Christine down and even pulled her hair—behavior that felt childish and entirely out of character. There was no suspense, no reason to feel sympathy for the Phantom. Instead of a tortured genius, he came across as a toddler throwing a tantrum. This pivotal moment lost all of its emotional weight.
Magical Lasso
Surprisingly, this scene was a highlight. Linda Balgord’s Madame Giry had a commanding presence that added depth to the character. Her portrayal even had a touch of Norma Desmond’s dramatic flair, which made the scene feel more impactful. I have seen several actresses as Giry, Leila Martin being my absolute favorite because she had a bit of a creepy vibe in her portrayal. Linda Balgord tapped into the creepiness of the role also, at least a little bit and she was a happy medium for me. Fun fact: Linda and I share the same birthday, though not the same year. Unfortunately, Linda passed away a few years ago, leaving a legacy of love and appreciation for her contributions to the productions she starred in, in her wake.
Notes/Prima Donna
The managers’ office was one of the more inventive sets, unfolding like a storybook. However, the bright red decor gave off “hooker hotel in New Jersey that I once stayed in” vibes—not quite the sophisticated atmosphere you’d expect from an opera house. Though I guess it's a bit of an upgrade to just a black background with a desk and a rolling chair as seen in the Brilliant Original. Mark Emerson and Brad Oscar, as the managers, had solid comedic timing, though their humor didn’t quite reach the heights of seasoned performers like DC Anderson or George Lee Andrews. Vocally, the ensemble delivered, but Jacquelynne Fontaine’s Carlotta still didn’t outshine Christine—an imbalance that felt odd for this scene.
This version seemed to also borrow elements from the 2004 film, with Carlotta being dressed on stage in her Il Muto costume. It was an interesting nod but didn’t add much to the overall impact.
Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh
This scene stuck fairly close to the original but included some odd choices that felt out of place. Don Attilio hiding in a wardrobe and gyrating along to Carlotta’s “ha ha’s” gave the scene a juvenile, “high school musical” feel. Carlotta’s infamous “FROG” moment lacked its usual humor and punch. Buquet’s death, staged onstage in this version, was another questionable choice. The audience saw the Phantom step out, use the punjab lasso and hang Buquet in full view. It came across as cheesy and lacked the chilling suspense that makes this moment so effective.
Why Have You Brought Me Here?/Raoul, I’ve Been There/All I Ask of You
This scene has always felt like stepping into a dream—a moment suspended between reality and fantasy. While the production retained some of that ethereal quality, the scenery was less impressive than in previous versions. The grandeur and romance that should define this moment were missing. With that said, Ben and Julia are EVERYTHING and their All I Ask of You felt authentic and left everyone wishing they could have a moment with one or the other.
All I Ask of You (I Gave You My Music)
The Phantom perched atop a statue on the opera house roof should have been a dramatic visual, but the lackluster staging let it down. The iconic chandelier moment was equally disappointing. Instead of the dramatic, high-speed descent and swing toward the stage, the chandelier lowered slowly and without impact, leaving the scene devoid of tension.
ENTR’ACTE
As in all productions, this section is pre-recorded and a perfect transition from intermission to one of the most grand scenes written for the show.
Masquerade/Why So Silent
I think I spoke too soon, did I say grand? Gone was the iconic staircase, the whimsical monkey girl and the dazzling costumes. Christine’s outfit was a watered-down version of her Broadway costume and the flat, mirrored backdrop gave me A Chorus Line vibes. Even Carlotta’s dress was plain and unremarkable. The Phantom’s entrance, typically a highlight, was a letdown. Instead of the dramatic “Red Death” costume, he wore his standard half mask. The moment where he usually snatches Christine’s necklace and declares, “Your chains are still mine,” was altered to, “Your voice is still mine,” with no physical interaction between the characters. The scene lacked intensity and impact.
Raoul and Giry
This scene was one of the rare moments that exceeded expectations. As Madame Giry recounted the Phantom’s origins, shadow projections illustrated her tale on the walls of the set. This added a layer of visual storytelling that made the scene more compelling than in the original production.
Notes/Twisted Every Way
Ah yes, another visit to what I lovingly call the New Jersey Hooker Motel (aka the manager’s office). Still decked out in garish red, this setting continued to be an eyesore. Carlotta’s line, “Christine Daae, she doesn’t have the voice,” always gives me a chuckle—mainly because in this production, Christine’s voice is leagues stronger than Carlotta’s. The irony was hard to ignore.
A Rehearsal for Don Juan Triumphant
This scene actually hit the mark. The chaotic energy of the rehearsal was captured well and Piangi’s struggle with his lines was more noticeable than in prior productions. While it may not have added much to the overall narrative, it did inject a bit of humor and personality into the moment.
Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again / Wandering Child / Bravo, Bravo
The sparse scenery continued in this sequence, with Christine’s father’s grave being shockingly small and the Phantom awkwardly hidden behind a nearby statue. The setup lacked the drama and gravitas this scene demands. That said, Julia’s performance of Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again was an absolute triumph. Her voice soared with emotional depth and she brought an aching vulnerability to the piece. Wandering Child was also a highlight. This production used the original London trio version, as heard on the Original London Cast Recording. Experiencing it live for the first time was a real treat. Cooper’s voice blended surprisingly well with Julia’s and Ben’s, creating a hauntingly beautiful harmony. Hey, I can't say I am all negative here, perhaps he was just not having the greatest of nights but I did like Cooper in this scene. The staging, however, was hit or miss. The Phantom’s flaring staff was replaced by flames erupting from the stage floor—a visually striking effect at first. But when the Phantom delivered his climactic “Now let it be war upon you both,” only five small flames shot up. It was anticlimactic and underwhelming, falling short of the tension this moment deserved.
Before the Premiere/Seal My Fate
This scene didn’t stray far from the usual staging of Seal My Fate. While it was solidly executed, there wasn’t much to distinguish it from previous productions. It was serviceable but otherwise unremarkable.
The Point of No Return
Despite Cooper Grodin’s less-than-stellar voice, this scene was executed fairly well overall. However, one glaring issue stood out: the pivotal moment when Christine realizes she’s singing with the Phantom instead of Piangi was entirely absent. That moment of recognition is crucial for building tension and drama and its omission left a noticeable void. Things took an odd turn after Piangi’s death was revealed. Raoul grabs a gun from the Fireman and fires at the spot where the Phantom had been moments before. Unfortunately, by that point, the Phantom had moved about 15 steps forward, making it look like Raoul unintentionally shot someone else. The staging here felt sloppy and unpolished, undermining the emotional weight of the scene.
Down Once More/Track Down This Murderer/Beyond the Lake
As Madame Giry led Raoul to the staircase, I couldn’t help but wonder how Raoul seemed to magically know exactly where to go once he descended. Upon reaching the lair, there was no boat to be found and Raoul emerged looking perfectly dry and composed—a detail that felt unrealistic but consistent with the original production’s similar oversight. When Christine appeared in the wedding dress, it became clear that the Phantom had dressed her himself—an unsettling yet intriguing detail. Most of this scene unfolded as expected, until the moment where the Phantom releases Christine and Raoul. In the original production, Christine kisses the Phantom, hugs him, kisses him again and then he lets Raoul lose from the grip of the lasso in an emotional moment before letting them both go. Here, she kissed him, hugged him twice and then he released them with very little hesitation, the emotional beats felt rushed and less impactful.
What followed was a significant departure from the original. Christine briefly returned after leaving, standing silently behind the Phantom as he picked up his music. She overheard him confess his love, placed his ring on the organ and left without him noticing until just before the mob arrived. In the original staging, Christine returns to hand him the ring directly and they hold hands during his confession—a deeply touching moment that can leave even the most stoic audience member in tears.
The mob’s arrival was yet another misstep. Despite being within arm’s reach of the Phantom, they inexplicably allowed him to put on his cloak and wander the room. When Meg grabbed him from behind, she dropped the cloak to reveal his mask inside and that was the end. In the original production, the Phantom disappears through the throne in a mysterious, dramatic exit. Here, he visibly crawled under the bed. I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out, “Are you kidding me? He disappeared by crawling under the bed?” It was an anticlimactic and almost laughable end to an otherwise pivotal moment.
Looking back, this production had a handful of good moments but was plagued by far too many missed opportunities. The magical and mysterious elements that make Phantom so captivating were almost entirely absent. Honestly, if this had been the production that opened in London and New York in the 1980s, I doubt it would have lasted past the 1990s. Ernie seemed to enjoy the show well enough, but Terry left at intermission—unimpressed and not feeling great. I stayed, mainly because I didn’t want to leave Ernie alone in the theater. As we left, I noticed only a handful of people waiting at the stage door. In the past, I’ve seen lines stretching down the block, full of fans eager to meet the cast.
On the drive home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been ripped off. Terry later admitted he knew from the start that I wouldn’t enjoy it. We both tried to convince ourselves otherwise, but ultimately, we couldn’t ignore the production’s amateurish feel and miscast Phantom. That said, remember when I mentioned that Julia Udine will be a Christine on Broadway one day? She joined the Broadway production not long after leaving this production and she remained with the show, on and off, until the production closed. She is incredibly talented and deserved a platform that allowed her performances to shine and it came to pass. But as for this tour? Once was more than enough, when it returned to Atlanta I politely declined comp tickets. Unfortunately, this was the last time I saw Phantom live, though I’m already itching to head to New York for the new Phantom of the Opera experience as well as the new North American Tour that will be opening this year with most of its original glory in tact.
What about you? Have you seen this production or another version of The Phantom of the Opera? I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. If you’ve enjoyed reading this review and feel inspired to support my ongoing love of theater, your thoughtful engagement or sharing of this post means the world to me. Every little bit helps keep this passion alive and I’m grateful for your time and kindness.
Picture this: It’s January 1993, one of the coldest days and nights I can recall. I found myself at a man’s apartment in New York City, invited to stay over because of the freezing weather. Here’s how it happened: we were sitting together at Julius', watching the news as they ran a report on hypothermia and frostbite, warning about the dangerously low temperatures that night and the following day. I can’t remember his name, but he was kind—a real aged-hippy vibe. At one point, he turned to me and said, “My place is warm. Would you like to come stay over? I have an electric blanket too.”
It’s a quirky detail, sure, but trust me, it perfectly sets the stage for an evening that would stay with me for decades.
Dave Willetts as The Phantom
This man happened to know I was a die-hard fan of The Phantom of the Opera (and let’s be honest, probably used it to set the mood, haha). He put on On and Off Stage, Dave Willetts’ album. Now, at the time, I only knew of Dave Willetts by association—he had taken over the Phantom role in London after the legendary Michael Crawford stepped away. But when I heard his voice for the first time that night, it was nothing short of mesmerizing. His tone was so much sweeter and gentler than I was used to after hearing Michael Crawford, Colm Wilkinson, and even Mark Jacoby who was currently performing the role on Broadway. I was hooked.
While On and Off Stage includes just two songs from Phantom, it delivers so much more. Willetts’ rendition of “The Music of the Night” is an absolute standout. If you haven’t heard it, you have been missing out! That said, I have to admit I was slightly let down by the album’s version of the title track, “The Phantom of the Opera.” It wasn’t due to Willetts himself—his vocals are stunning—but rather the choice of Lesley Garrett to sing opposite him. While she’s undeniably talented, the duet lacked the iconic “Sing For Me” cadenza and Christine's high E, which has always been a highlight for fans. Fun fact: she later nailed it when Michael Ball featured her on one of his own albums, which did include the full cadenza.
Dave as Jean Valjean
But what really surprised me was that my favorite tracks weren’t from Phantom or even musical theatre. Willetts’ mashup of Bette Midler’s “The Rose” and Neil Diamond’s “Hello Again” is pure magic. And “Nights Are Forever,” a song you might recognize from Twilight Zone: The Movie, was another hidden gem that I couldn’t stop replaying. Then there’s his breathtaking performance of the mashup “Be On Your Own” and “Unusual Way” from the musical Nine. Honestly, it’s the kind of artistry that leaves you in awe.
The next day, before retreating to my little abode in New Jersey to hunker down for the rest of the icy cold, I couldn’t leave the city without making this album mine. I headed straight to Colony Records and snagged their only copy of On and Off Stage. I’ll admit—it was really expensive for an album with just 12 tracks, but honestly? It was worth every penny then, and it still is today.
To this day, it remains one of my most cherished albums—a treasure that instantly transports me back to that freezing New York evening and the unforgettable warmth of discovering a voice that completely captivated me. Dave Willetts’ On and Off Stage is a musical treasure. It’s more than just an album; it’s an experience, blending iconic theatre pieces with pop ballads in a way that feels personal and timeless. Whether you’re a theatre buff, a collector of all things related to The Phantom of the Opera or just someone who appreciates beautiful vocals, I can’t recommend it enough.
Now, I’d love to hear from you! Have you heard this album or have any special memories tied to Dave Willetts’ music? Share your thoughts in the comments below—I’d genuinely love to connect and chat with fellow fans. And hey, if you enjoyed this little journey down memory lane and would like to support more content like this, your kindness doesn’t go unnoticed. A heartfelt “thank you” goes out to anyone who feels inspired to contribute. 💜
