Handa Opera on Sydney Harbour
The Phan-tastic Phantom of the Opera
Sydney does not do subtle when it comes to spectacle. It does wind that lifts your hair just enough to make you question your life, skies the colour of bruised steel, and crowds dressed in black tie as if summoned by some invisible social contract that says, if we are going to sit outdoors and risk rain, we will at least look fabulous doing it.
So there we were, stepping into the twilight at Handa Opera on Sydney Harbour, masks in place, shoes negotiating grass, and that particular thrill humming under the surface. The kind that says something is about to begin. An experience. Possibly a mild emotional upheaval. Definitely a champagne.
Handa Opera on Sydney Harbour
This year, the harbour belonged to The Phantom of the Opera. And if ever there were a story that understands how to inhabit a space, it is this one.
The red carpet was its own kind of theatre. Silk, sequins, velvet, the soft rustle of people trying very hard to look as though they always dress like this. I spotted Tina Bursill and felt a flicker of delight, like seeing a familiar ghost from a previous life. There may also have been a politician or two drifting through the crowd, though they carried less of a presence, as if the night itself had decided who truly belonged.
And then the lights dimmed. There is a particular kind of magic that happens when darkness falls over water. The harbour turns into something quieter, as though it is holding its breath. The stage, in contrast, blooms into light. And there, suspended above it all, the chandelier. A promise. Of drama. Of danger. Of very expensive lighting.
I should confess something. I am not, by nature, a purist. I love opera, yes, but I love it for its excess. The costumes. The way it unapologetically asks you to believe in something larger than sense. And this production understands that instinct completely.
Go just for Gabriela Tylesova’s costumes
Gabriela Tylesova has created a visual world that feels like stepping into a dream that refuses to behave. The masquerade scene in Act Two is a riot of colour and movement. Bears, dancers, glittering fabrics that seem to catch the light and hold it. And Christine, luminous in blue, like she has been painted into existence. It is impossible not to be swept up in it, even if part of your brain is quietly wondering where one might acquire such a dress and whether it would be inappropriate for Woolworths.
Vocals that stretch across Sydney Harbour
Vocally, the cast carry the story with that effortless confidence that feels almost supernatural. Amy Manford as Christine seems to hover on the edge of sound, her voice stretching out across the harbour like it belongs there. Jake Lyle’s Phantom is soft yet fractured creature of shadows. He is dangerous, yes, but also heartbreakingly human. The kind of man you would absolutely avoid in a dark alley, but might think about later, against your better judgement.
Deborah Krizak’s Madame Giry moves through the story like she knows more than she is saying. And Jarrod Draper, Brent Hill and Martin Crewes bring a grounded energy that anchors the more extravagant moments, giving the story something to push against.
Then there is the gondola. It glides across the stage as though Sydney Harbour has simply agreed, for one night, to become Paris.
The orchestra swells at Phantom of the Opera
The orchestra swells beneath it all, a living, breathing thing that seems to pulse in time with the story. There is something about live music outdoors that feels less contained. It spills into the air and into you. And that is the thing about this production. It pulls you in and wraps around you.
By the time it ends, the city feels slightly altered. As though the Phantom might still be there, just beneath the surface, watching, waiting, humming a note you almost recognise.
Handa Opera on Sydney Harbour is always an event. But this feels like something else. A story that has slipped its usual confines and found a new way to breathe. Go for the spectacle. Stay for the feeling. Leave with the distinct and slightly inconvenient sense that some stories do not end when the curtain falls. And possibly give you a sudden, inexplicable desire for a cape.
Tickets via Opera Australia now playing until 3 May 2026
