For Patrons With a Disability, Masquerade Is a Journey That Is Accessible For All

When I first heard rumors rumbling around the theatre industry that an immersive Phantom of the Opera was coming to New York City and it was going to span a five-floor venue full of stairs—as a notorious Phantom of the Opera mega-Phan, you’d think my immediate reaction would be excitement. Instead, I was skeptical.

How was I, as someone who has health conditions that keep me from standing for long periods of time, going to journey safely and comfortably through the Phantom’s lair?

In my early 20s, I experienced an onslaught of autoimmune issues all at once. By the age of 25, I was learning to manage Lupus, which is difficult enough on its own, as well as a common comorbidity: Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS). It’s an autonomic nervous system disorder where the blood flow in my body basically doesn’t enjoy gravity—when I am standing too long, walking too far, or climbing too many stairs, everything flows down. My heart has to work much harder to keep things flowing towards my brain. When I push too hard and my body can’t keep up with that demand, I pass out.

Throughout my theatre-going career, I’ve had to slip away into bathrooms or find the nearest seat, so I can put my head between my knees before my vision blacks out—hopefully without anyone noticing and making a fuss. With Masquerade, I feared I would not have that option and I would have to miss parts of the show in the event of a POTS episode, or even risk embarrassment if I ignore my symptoms altogether and crash amidst the crowds.

For most people, Masquerade is nothing short of immersive excellence. Rather than sitting down and viewing a story onstage, you are a part of the story as you physically follow characters such as the Phantom, Christine, and Madame Giry through the Paris Opera House. This journey spans from the roof of the five-story venue where Christine and Raoul pledge their love, all the way down to the basement where the Phantom sings "Music of the Night." 

It’s every Phan’s wildest dream. But for someone like me, it could become a nightmare. Like most of my experiences in an able-bodied world, I assumed that because I do not always use a wheelchair, my disability would be pretty much overlooked. 

I was wrong. Masquerade actually has a special team dedicated to accessibility for all.

My first two times seeing Masquerade, I did not contact the access team with an inquiry about my disability, partly because of that incorrect assumption, but also (admittedly) because I am only just beginning to find the courage to ask for help without shame. Unfortunately, during my second time at Masquerade, I very nearly fainted in the final minutes of the show (right in front of the Phantom himself), which was a wake-up call for me—as on brand as that would be for a Victorian heroine, I did not wish to emulate Christine Daaé in this particular way.

READ: 5 Key Differences Between Phantom of the Opera and Masquerade

The third time would have to be the charm for me, and I decided to document my experience seeing Masquerade on the “ADA track,” which is essentially the guest-tailored experience designed by the show’s access team to ensure that every patron is able to safely enjoy their journey through the Opéra Populaire, no matter their specific needs. I also interviewed members of the accessibility team after the show for this piece—so that Playbill readers like myself can know they have options, and readers without disabilities can get a closer look into this incredible feat of accessible theatre.

Prior to my performance date, I made sure to brief the production via email ([email protected]) on exactly what I’d need throughout the show, which is opportunities to sit as often as possible, and to avoid stairs. I knew the venue is fully ADA compliant with elevators, but I did not know that they could assign one of the shows “Butlers”—the incredible crew that ensures audiences flow into each scene and room seamlessly—to follow me around with a folding stool to set up in each room in the event they couldn’t scout one of the built-in seats for me. (Most rooms have places for the audience to sit, but with a limited amount of seats, some of the audience is left to stand.)

I arrived a little bit earlier than the show recommended, waiting outside about 30 minutes prior to my entry time. Soon enough, someone emerged from the newspaper-clad doors, ushering me inside. This is where I was introduced to my butler, Matthew Ballestero (a phrase that feels very silly to write, but it certainly does add to the immersion!). I was able to go over my needs with him one more time. More importantly, I was able to get to know him—we talked about life, the show, and the weather. By the time the show began, I no longer felt vulnerable, but comfortable with the person who would be standing by my side every step of the way.

“That little 15 minutes before is so nice to ease the waters,” Ballestero later said in our post-show interview. “I get to let everyone know that we’re going to have a good time, and I’m going to be here for you.”

Ballestero has been with the production since the beginning of previews, moving all the way from Anaheim, California, to take the job. Back home, he worked on several Disneyland live productions such as Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. On the side, Ballestero did behavioral work with autistic kids and teens; his approach always came from a theatrical perspective. "In my experience directing, having people not only onstage but also in the audience, I'm always thinking about how we can make things more accessible ... When a friend recommended me for this job, everything lined up, and I was like, wow, this is the perfect gig for me to move to New York City, because it married everything that I've done."

Moving from scene to scene with Ballestero as my guide, Masquerade felt entirely different. I had wondered if doing the ADA track would leave one feeling less immersed, like the illusion is somewhat broken, or left out from all the action.

Fortunately this time, I felt even more at the center of the story. I had several fun interactions with members of the cast. I won’t go so far as to say it was purposeful every time, but I do get the sense that the cast had been directed to keep an eye out for those who could easily be overlooked…like my 5’2” self sitting on a tiny stool in a sea of taller people. Visibility wasn’t a problem, either, because Ballestero methodically picked every single spot for me with the height of people or set pieces in mind, ensuring there was no obstructed view. In one scene, he even admitted to me that he has a favorite spot he always tries to place ADA track guests in for a little extra Masquerade magic.

“I always try to get my guests in the spot for the ‘Infinity Mirror’ moment, where Christine is singing to the mirror as it backs up and all the guests move to either side, then the curtain opens and the Phantom is there. It’s one of the most visually stunning things I’ve ever seen, and just to see the awe that comes across every single guest’s face in that moment is amazing,” said Ballestero.

Throughout the evening, I took note of aspects of the show that could be a challenge for other disabilities, and wondered how the production approaches them. In addition to my post-show interview with Ballestero, I also spoke with Cesar Hawas, who leads the accessibility team. He told me that not only is accessibility one of Masquerade’s core priorities, but also, the show was built with accessibility in mind from day one.

“I don’t think we ever considered a version of this experience that didn’t have an accessibility component to it. Lots of us have been involved with big scale, high-profile immersive experiences. In immersive work, we’re constantly asking ourselves: What’s it like to be an audience member? [Director] Diane Paulus was very clear early on that this needed to be a component of all the decisions that we were making throughout the space,” said Hawas. “I think a lot of people often will consider accessibility once the work is done, and try to back into it. But from the initial design process all the way through our earliest previews, we were thinking about how accessibility impacted our decisions.”

The meticulous mapping of crowd flow is evident in the show’s default track, which seamlessly moves groups of up to 60 patrons around a dark, cavernous venue. The ADA track is similarly flawless. When the time came to move from scene to scene, rather than taking the stairs or the one escalator that normally transports guests into the Phantom's basement lair for the title song, Ballestero discreetly guided me to an elevator, aglow with blood-red lighting (very on theme). These moments went by so quickly that they didn’t take away from the story. At some points, I even caught glimpses and angles of the show I’d hadn't before, like the Phantom’s boat gliding through the floor (encased in thick fog to look like a lake) before the audience trickled in behind it.

From the misty landscape of the underground lake to the flickering lights of the chandelier before it crashes, Masquerade has carefully considered how to help audience members have a safe and exciting adventure. “With someone who is low vision or Blind, our team will guide you around and give an audio description. I’ll alert all the other butlers as we are heading into certain spaces that I’m going to be trying to get us as close to the action as possible,” Ballestero shared.

I asked him if a guest with epilepsy or sensitivity to certain lighting could be accommodated. As with all my other questions thus far, he gave an enthusiastic yes: “The only time you can consider it being strobe light-like is when the chandelier crashes, as well as when the mirror breaks as the Phantom appears. We notify guests about those two moments and let them know when they happen. And we also give butlers stationed in each area a description of the guest, so they are watching and monitoring if they need to step out."

With so many physical disabilities to consider, I made sure to ask Ballestero how disabilities on the neurodivergent spectrum could be accommodated. Autistic guests, guests with sensory issues, or even guests with mental health conditions such as PTSD or anxiety are encouraged to contact the access team with their needs. “We have definitely had guests who are neurodivergent and sometimes that didn’t necessarily lead to needing a guide if they didn’t specifically want one, so we just flag our butler team so that they can—as our leads call it—’trail the pulse.’ They’ll just be moving with the audience, looking out to ensure that a guest with any of those disabilities is taken care of, because we do have moments of shock and awe and some things that might overstimulate.”

By the time the Final Lair scene arrived, I could not stop smiling out of sheer wonder and joy from experiencing Masquerade the way it is meant to be, without having to fight or push through my own barriers. And if you know anything about Phantom, you know the Final Lair scene is not the time for smiling! But feeling like my experience was finally equal to everyone else’s was truly euphoric. 

As the Phantom rang out his final notes reprising “Music of the Night,” I couldn’t help but reflect on how Phantom, at its core, is not only a romance and a tragedy, but also a disability story. It all centers on one man who, because of a facial difference, has been cruelly cast out of the world, forced to fend for himself. 

With that, Masquerade certainly gets to the heart of Phantom in a way that goes much deeper than storytelling—it puts theme to action for its audience.

With one in four American adults having some sort of disability—and countless more who know and love someone disabled, almost every audience member will have their lives impacted by disability in one way or another. Taking that into consideration, what Masquerade has accomplished in keeping all patrons in mind is certainly a successful formula for reaching a wider audience (and one that other productions, whether immersive or standard proscenium, can keep in mind).

I confessed to Hawas during our discussion that my previous two times attending Masquerade, I didn’t seek the help I needed, because I wasn’t aware it could be offered. I told him how in the show’s final moments, I very nearly alerted a butler about my declining condition, but I worried it would disrupt the show or attract attention. He told me that not only are patrons more than welcome to flag down a butler if they are in need of assistance, but this exact scenario had already been considered in their training.

“My sister has very recently gone through lung cancer treatment, and throughout the majority of her day to day, she’s perfectly fine. But there are certain instances in which moving around may become a little more difficult, and oftentimes she doesn’t really know that until she’s in the moment, so I always had her experience in the back of my mind,” said Hawas. “I’d think, if my sister was trying to go through this moment, is there an alternative to these stairs? If she decided halfway through the show she wouldn’t be able to get up these stairs without overextending herself, could she seamlessly opt in [to the ADA track] and still be a part of the experience without the illusion and the storytelling work that we’re doing being ruined?”

Hawas revealed that eventually when his sister did attend the masked ball, she did not opt into the ADA track. Simply knowing she could at any given moment brought her the peace of mind she needed to have a good time. “Having my sister know it was available made her much more comfortable with engaging with the experience at all,” he said. “I’m very proud of our team and their ability to read signals from folks that may not even know that there’s an alternative way to experience any given scene. Our team is well experienced both in accommodation and also empathy, and trying to meet folks where they’re at.”

At the end of the evening, the audience is led downstairs to the Lair Bar, where guests (and sometimes cast members!) can mingle over drinks. There’s a few tables scattered around, but usually they’re all occupied before I can reach them. Typically, at this point in the night, if I can’t sit, I just go home. But to my sheer awe, as I entered the Lair Bar, Ballestero flagged me down; he had secured a table for myself and my date already. For the first time, I got to experience a part of the show I hadn’t been able to before. And most importantly, I got to debrief with Ballestero, and thank him profusely for all he does, for myself and anyone with a disability.

“I just love the idea of having someone who loves theatre come to see a show that might seem to them like a huge challenge, and for them to get here and have it be the most non-challenging thing for them,” said Ballestero. “Any sort of work where you’re helping someone and adding theatre with that…. That just speaks to me and my heart, and that’s how this job came to me.”

Though safely journeying through my favorite musical was a dream come true, the highlight of my night was gaining even more perspective and appreciation for how much it takes for this production to work on a nightly basis. I realize now, even more than before, that the butlers are the true MVPs of Masquerade—and most audience members don't even know their names.

Their incredible contributions are aptly summed up in something Hawas said: “We always knew that as an immersive experience, we were going to need these incredible butlers to help shepherd the audience through the space. So, we worked with folks who had the right sort of temperament to be able to navigate any audience member through the show and have them feel like they’re just having an experience—not an accessible or accommodated experience, but just a great experience."

To all the butlers in Masquerade, "Brava, brava, bravissima!