The Phantom of the Opera I saw in San Francisco felt much closer to the recent West End touring version than to the traditional original production. This new North American tour, produced by Cameron Mackintosh and directed by Seth Sklar-Heyn, is based on Hal Prince’s original staging while reworking Maria Björnson’s iconic designs into a more compact form by Matt Kinley. After first appearing at His Majesty’s Theatre in London in 2021 following the pandemic, the production began its North American tour in Baltimore in November 2025. Overall, it felt like a production that reduces some of the original’s theatrical illusion and spectacle, while placing greater emphasis on clarifying the characters’ emotional arcs and the narrative.

The performance begins with the auction scene. The chandelier was already suspended above the stage by three wires, looking down over the space, but unlike the sharp silhouette of the original, it had a rounder shape. The fabric covering the chandelier disappeared in an instant when electricity passed through it, as if it had been sucked into the chandelier itself. The burlap covering the stage before the performance also lowered automatically and was then neatly cleared away to both sides, out of sight.

The chandelier remains a central symbol running through the entire production, but it is no longer a direct threat to the audience. Sparks, movement, and the rising and falling motion are still there, but it does not rush toward the audience or the stage. Instead, in moments when the Phantom is angry or threatening, the fire effects extend in much longer, straighter bursts than in the original production, leaving a powerful impression.

The columns on both sides of the proscenium have also changed significantly. Instead of the ornate golden sculptures of the original production, silver-gray structures now frame the stage, shifting the overall atmosphere away from lavish Gothic grandeur and toward something colder and more contemporary.

Scene changes were extremely fast. The total running time was about 160 minutes, including a twenty-minute intermission, but there was almost no sense that the flow was being interrupted by transitions. The fabric around the chandelier and the burlap covering the stage disappeared automatically, and the actors also took part in the transition choreography. Throughout the stage operation, the production seemed designed with efficiency very much in mind.

Many aspects of the Phantom’s underground lair have also been redesigned. The first thing that caught my eye was the organ. It was much smaller than I had expected and looked as if it could cover no more than about three octaves. The imposing presence that the organ had in Hal Prince’s version was difficult to find here. The monkey music box also had a texture that seemed closer to fabric than to metal or wood, so when the auctioneer described it as papier-mâché, the line felt slightly incongruous.

The Phantom’s throne has become more elaborate, with ornate silver-gray decoration, but the Mirror Bride has become something entirely different. Rather than a ghostly human figure, she looked closer to a mannequin with exposed metal joints, and her face was also covered by a veil. As a result, she came across less as Christine’s double and more as a doll or object created by the Phantom.

The Phantom’s makeup has also taken a different direction from the original. Rather than using sophisticated prosthetics that sculpturally distort part of the face, it gave the impression of a thin mold attached to one side of the face. The mask, which covers half of the face, was not white but closer to a silver-gray metallic tone.

The mirror scene is where the loss of theatrical illusion was most noticeable. After “Little Lotte,” the Phantom still appears through the mirror, but the space behind it is blocked by a dark gray brick-like structure, making the actor’s actual movement somewhat visible. Rather than the magical feeling of “How did he appear?” that the original production created, this felt more like a theatrical moment produced by visible stage machinery.

The travelator retained almost the same basic structure as Hal Prince’s original staging. Thanks perhaps to technological advances, however, the angle seemed far more flexible, and the principal actors appeared to perform the sequence themselves rather than relying on doubles. The Phantom and Christine crossed the travelator about three times on their way into the underground world, and at the end it tilted sharply down toward stage right, connecting naturally with the path toward the boat. Because of this, it looked as if the actors stepped directly from the travelator into the boat.

This staging created a completely different impression from the rotating-wall method used in the Greek production. If the rotating wall changes the space itself, this travelator felt less like a device for spatial movement and more like a way of visualizing the characters’ emotional passage into another world.

Several changes were also noticeable in Il Muto. Most significantly, the Phantom no longer appears physically in the second-level proscenium. His voice is heard, but the striking surprise appearance from Hal Prince’s staging has disappeared. Instead, he later appears in Box Five and brings down the chandelier. The change was somewhat unexpected, but it made sense in that it more directly shows the Phantom’s anger at Raoul for occupying what he considers his own seat.

The original staging, in which the Phantom moves along the upper proscenium while mocking Carlotta, has also been removed, and his presence is conveyed only through his voice. Another major change follows in “All I Ask of You.” The Phantom no longer hides inside the angel statue. Instead, he enters a newly introduced Pegasus sculpture and watches the two lovers from within it.

Before seeing the production, this was the change I worried about most. The angel statue is one of the most iconic images associated with The Phantom of the Opera. Even while watching Christine and Raoul’s duet, I would often glance toward the Phantom hidden inside the angel. Depending on the actor, one could sometimes see him quietly tapping the rhythm with his fingers or making subtle movements, and watching that hidden presence was one of the pleasures of the scene. So when I heard that the angel statue had been replaced by Pegasus, I honestly felt some regret.

Onstage, however, the change felt much fresher than I had expected. The Pegasus sculpture slowly moved forward toward the front of the stage, and the Phantom emerged from within it to sing the reprise. Above all, it resembled the sculptures that actually decorate the roof of the Paris Opera House, giving the scene a natural spatial logic. Because the structure did not sway like the angel statue, the audience’s gaze could also focus more steadily on the Phantom.

The rooftop set itself, however, left some room for disappointment. It relied heavily on flat panels, so the sense of space felt somewhat limited. Even so, it had more depth than the original version and fit well with the production’s overall contemporary design. It did not create the overwhelming impression of the grand rooftop set from the Greek production, which I have only seen in photographs, but it created a convincing space in its own way.

The Masquerade scene also showed substantial changes in stage structure. The Phantom appeared beside the middle landing of the staircase, and part of the staircase from which he entered had been removed entirely. The trapdoor disappearance used in the original production was gone, and he exited by running off to stage right.

The atmosphere of the Red Death was also quite different. Rather than the overwhelming presence and threatening aura of the original, this version felt much lighter and more agile. It even felt somewhat playful, which made it a very different interpretation from the familiar image.

The mannequins in Masquerade have also been changed. Many animal-headed mannequins have been added, while some human-shaped mannequins remain, creating a stranger and more surreal atmosphere than before.

Raoul’s costume also felt much less military than before. It was still a Hussar-style double-breasted jacket, but it looked more like a large garment lightly draped over his shoulders, and the overall silhouette felt much more relaxed.

The elephant prop was made with much greater detail than before. As always, during its exit, one could see members of the opera house stage crew drinking and resting inside the elephant, adding a small comic touch. Piangi’s inability to climb onto the elephant, the new managers being ignored while greeting the company, and the comic maid scene in Il Muto were all preserved almost exactly as in the original production. Piangi’s distinctive pronunciation of “Roma” also remained unchanged.

The number of performers seemed somewhat smaller than in the original production. Instead, the actors moved constantly across the entire stage, actively filling the space, so the stage never felt empty. There were also two fewer ballerinas than in the production I had seen in Seoul.

Joseph Buquet’s death was staged slightly differently. Buquet was hanged near the front of the stage, and later Piangi was also suspended just behind the curtain near the audience, making both moments much clearer to see.

The ballet immediately following Buquet’s death was especially memorable. At the front left of the stage stood André and a male dancer, while six ballerinas danced above them holding semicircular floral decorations. The composition created the unusual image of people being enclosed inside giant hula hoops. It was a brief scene, but it left a strong visual impression.

The Phantom’s shadow staging remained relatively simple. The noose was visible, and the set itself was minimal, but the shadow effectively foreshadowed Buquet’s fate and gave the brief scene enough tension.

The redesigned graveyard set felt especially fresh. The gravestone was marked with the dates 1821–1872, and the travelator was no longer used. A gravestone and cross stood at the center, while iron fences on both sides gradually expanded outward to enclose the stage. It felt much more like a physically defined cemetery space than before.

In the graveyard trio, there were moments when the actors sang toward the audience. Raoul in particular spent a fair amount of time singing toward the auditorium, and I personally wished that his gaze had stayed more focused on Christine. That might have conveyed the emotional depth between them more strongly.

There was also a small change after the final Point of No Return. As the Phantom, his face exposed, tries to flee, Madame Giry appears from stage left and blocks his way. It is a very brief moment, but it adds an interesting touch that heightens the tension of the ending.

The moment when Raoul jumps from the travelator also looked newly staged. The safety box, which had occasionally been visible in silhouette, was almost impossible to see from the audience. The actor descended much farther than I expected before landing with an audible thud. Since the underground set rose immediately afterward, it seemed likely that some kind of safety mechanism was installed beneath the stage and that the crew quickly moved the actor away. Technically, it was handled very cleanly.

More than anything, however, the greatest difference between this production and the Korean productions I have seen was not the staging, but the emotional line.

This Christine does not hide her attraction to the Phantom.

From the beginning, her admiration, curiosity, and gradually deepening fascination with him emerge naturally. In “The Music of the Night,” it is clear that she is not merely enchanted by his music, but emotionally shaken by the Phantom himself. Rather than a girl drawn in by hypnosis, she is portrayed as a human being who feels fear yet is sincerely drawn to another person.

Because of this interpretation, the final choice becomes far more convincing.

The kiss after “Make Your Choice” no longer feels sudden or difficult to understand. The two embrace naturally, and it is the Phantom who quietly pushes Christine away and tells her to leave.

I found this setting more logically convincing than the Korean productions I have seen. Christine loves the Phantom, but she also loves Raoul. The Phantom knows this. That is why he does not try to hold on to her, but lets her go of his own will. In that moment, the ending is completed not merely through pity, but through true love and sacrifice. This single interpretation allowed the entire emotional line of the work to be read in a new way.

I saw the production over two consecutive evenings. Isaiah Bailey played the Phantom in both performances, Daniel Lopez played Raoul, and Christine was played by Jordan Lee Gilbert on the first night and Alexa Xioufaridou Moster on the second.

Isaiah Bailey was a very stable Phantom. The final note of “The Music of the Night” wavered slightly in breath support, but overall he delivered excellent singing and steady acting. His voice had a bright, tenor-like quality, yet it suited the role well. Compared with the Phantoms I have seen in Korea, his interpretation was far more restrained and calm. Rather than emphasizing menace or madness, he brought out more of the Phantom’s loneliness and human anguish.

Both Christines interpreted the role in a similar direction. From the beginning, they did not hide Christine’s admiration and infatuation toward the Phantom, and in “The Music of the Night,” they naturally expressed the process of becoming completely captivated not only by his music but by the Phantom himself. Because this emotional line remained consistent until the end, Christine’s final choice was fully understandable.

Both Christine and Raoul used an operatic vocal style, but their pitch was stable and clean. Daniel Lopez gave an excellent vocal performance, but he had a fairly strong habit of singing toward the audience. Personally, I felt that if his gaze had lingered on Christine a little longer, the love between the two characters might have come across more deeply.

Carlotta and Piangi, on the other hand, maintained a traditional operatic style, and both performers sang with great stability. The seven-part ensemble in “Notes / Prima Donna” was especially impressive because the complex harmonies never lost clarity.

Overall, this production uses comic elements more actively than before. As a result, the work moves along more lightly, but ironically, the characters’ emotions come through more clearly. The story is also easier to follow.

Of course, some of the overwhelming illusion and Gothic terror of the original production have been reduced. The magical moments created by the stage are not as powerful as they once were.

Even so, what remained most strongly after the performance was not the stage, but the characters.

I could understand more clearly than before why Christine is drawn to the Phantom, why the Phantom ultimately has no choice but to let her go, and why The Phantom of the Opera has continued to be loved for nearly forty years.

This production no longer seeks the overwhelming spectacle of the 1986 original. Instead, in the space left by reducing some of that dazzling illusion, it more clearly reveals love and obsession, loneliness and compassion, and finally the courage to let go of the person one loves.

This is not a production trying to reproduce the original exactly, but The Phantom of the Opera reinterpreted through the eyes of a new era.

For that interpretation alone, this North American tour is a production well worth seeing.