After watching the musical, all I want to say is: “Musical, musical, musical! I’m a big fan of musicals!”

This time, I was lucky enough to return to Broadway during the study tour. Once again, music reignited the musical theater DNA inside me. I remember last time, I splurged on two tickets to Hamilton for my mom and me. One of us dozed off amid the passionate performance, and the other tried desperately to keep their eyes open, struggling to understand the rapid-fire English dialogue. Of course, the professional singing, stunning choreography, surprising stage transitions, and seamless teamwork were all world-class artistic presentations. The problem was my English back then—barely passable. The fast-paced plot and rapped lines meant my eyes were ahead while my brain lagged behind. All I remembered from the show was one word: “revolution.”

Years later, holding on to the Chinese philosophy of “since we’re here,” I wasn’t going to miss such a valuable learning opportunity. So I crammed a musical into my already packed itinerary—for both the eyes and the ears.

Speaking of musicals, they are a modern, integrated stage art form. Musicals combine narrative drama with beautiful and accessible singing and diverse choreographed movement. They also incorporate costumes, set design, and lighting to create a complete stage effect. The three core elements of a musical are drama, music, and dance. The themes often appeal to the general public’s tastes and are closely tied to political or cultural contexts to connect with audience psychology. (Yes, I did look this up—and took the opportunity to refresh my knowledge of musical theater history.)

Before going to the show, I asked a local friend for recommendations. He suggested “The Lion King” and “Aladdin”. I figured everyone’s so familiar with “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”, so I picked Aladdin.

He mentioned you could buy discounted tickets under the red stairs in Times Square, but unfortunately “Aladdin” wasn’t included.

So we walked a few blocks to a theater nearby to get tickets. On the way, I said that in China we usually buy tickets online—fast and convenient. My senior friend replied that he preferred buying them in person: “Maybe I’m old school,” he said. He liked the feeling of walking through a few neighborhoods, looking at musical posters, picking the show that caught his eye, and trading cash for a paper ticket—holding that ticket stub in his hand felt real.

Looking back on that afternoon, it felt like everything arrived perfectly without being forced. We walked through several bustling blocks, surrounded by high-rises and blinking traffic lights. Suddenly, huge raindrops started falling from above—it turned out to be a window washer working overhead. People of different races speaking different languages rushed past. And then, through the crowd, I caught sight of the neon “Aladdin” sign.

At the ticket window, I had a smooth conversation with the staff and chose the “best seat” he recommended. Satisfied, I stepped outside—only to spot a “Harry Potter” poster across the street. I was instantly thrilled. I’d tried to see it in the UK before but missed out. Without hesitation, I grabbed two “best seat” tickets for the next day too. My friend’s son would join me for that performance.

Entering the “Aladdin” theater, I was first struck by the bright magenta curtain, perfectly complementing the vintage murals inside.

As the show began, the story unfolded: one, ahem, no, three kind-hearted yet poverty-stricken thieves who stole food from the rich to feed the hungry, all while being hunted by the authorities. Of course, one of them is our male lead—warm, righteous, brave, and determined to prove himself to his family. He belts out a motivational song along the lines of “I can do it, you’ll be proud of me!” while clenching his fists and charging forward, winning rousing applause and giving me a shot of energy too.

Meanwhile, a beautiful princess, unwilling to let her marriage be reduced to a political transaction, escapes from the palace and runs into the male lead. A misunderstanding leads the guards to believe she’s with him, and both are pursued. During their thrilling escape, the line “Can you trust me?” becomes the foundation of their bond.

The villainous sorcerer wants the magic lamp. According to a prophecy, only the “chosen one” can retrieve it from the tiger’s lair. The princess is taken back to the palace. The sorcerer captures the male lead and tricks him into fetching the lamp by hyping him up with—of course—another song.

True, you’re the main character of your own life, but being naïve and easily duped is part of your personality—haha.

In the tiger’s lair, surrounded by dazzling treasures, the male lead stays focused—he only wants to bring the princess a gemstone necklace. (Lover-boy mode fully activated.) But he ends up trapped inside. He rubs the lamp, and suddenly, amid swirling smoke, the genie bursts out from below the stage—a showstopping effect! The actor playing the genie was relaxed, hilarious, and incredibly skilled, drawing endless laughter and involuntary handclaps from the audience.

The rest of the story, I’m sure you know—the chosen one, the princess, happy ending.

A highlight worth mentioning: when the male lead again asks, “Can you trust me?” and invites the princess onto his magic carpet—the carpet  actually flew. As they soared through a star-filled sky to “A Whole New World”, the whole theater felt like it was floating in pink bubbles. In that limited moment and space, the performance transcended fantasy and touched the soul.

When did you last let your heart decide

I can open your eyes

Take you wonder by wonder

Over, sideways and under

On a magic carpet ride

A whole new world

A new fantastic point of view

No one to tell us no or where to go

Or say we’re only dreaming

Now that I’ve covered all the exciting parts, let’s talk about a small flaw: the actress playing the princess had a habit of tilting her head upward while singing—making it look like she was rolling her eyes at the first-floor audience. With her slim face, opening her mouth too wide while singing slightly disrupted the aesthetic (just a personal opinion). But these minor details pale in comparison to the overall artistry.

They did make me reflect on my own stage performances: are there areas I can improve? Unlike films or TV, live performances don’t have do-overs or replays. The audience is a mirror—it reflects brilliance, but also reveals the details performers themselves might overlook. That’s why the journey of self-improvement is endless.

The next day’s “Harry Potter” was not so lucky.

Plot twist: It wasn’t a musical. It was a play.

Surprise!

An endless stream of dialogue, intertwined timelines, and multiple versions of Harry left me completely confused. Though I didn’t check my phone once, I nearly drooled on my lap.

Luckily, the magical duel scenes jolted me awake now and then. Still, I couldn’t stop questioning—was it just me? Until intermission, when I overheard a kid behind me whisper to his dad, “I CONFUSED ALL THE TIME.” I turned to ask my friend’s son, “Did you understand it? Can you explain it to me?” He shrugged: “My Chinese isn’t good enough to explain.”

Fair. So, it wasn’t just me. But I was determined to see it through—after all, “I’m already here.”

In the end, when fire pillars burst from wands and Dementors flew from the ceiling right at me, I had to admit—immersive English theater makes for a great nap.

I’ll save the other two musicals for next time.

I hope everyone gets the chance to experience a live musical. The music, plot, choreography, and stagecraft blend into a truly moving form of art. For two hours, the audience leaves real life behind and sinks into a world where they rise and fall, laugh and cry with the characters on stage.

That’s it for now. I woke up a little after 4 a.m., and now it’s just before 8—the sky turned from pitch black to that soft light before dawn, and finally into clear morning brightness. It felt amazing to write this in a flow state. I’ll stop here and get ready for my class.