Stepping Into a Dream: Jordan as Christine in The Phantom of the Opera and a Full Circle Moment
Writing has always been a part of how I make sense of the world, but even more than that, it has given me the chance to step into moments I never thought I would truly experience. Some stories stay with you quietly over the years, and for me, The Phantom of the Opera has always been one of those stories. I still remember being sixteen, sitting in the Peppermill Reno, watching a playful spoof that made me laugh but also sparked something deeper I did not yet have words for. That same birthday, I was given the soundtrack, and it became a constant in my life, played over and over until the CD itself could not keep up with how much I needed it. Years later, through Apple Music, that music found its way back to me, just as powerful, just as moving. So when I was asked to cover this production, it felt like something had come full circle, like that sixteen year old version of me was finally getting to witness the magic she had only ever dreamed of. And when I learned that Jordan, the woman bringing Christine to life, was willing to sit down and share her story, that feeling only deepened. What I did not expect was just how open, how thoughtful, and how deeply she would allow me to see into her journey, turning what could have been a simple interview into something truly unforgettable.
There are roles that an actor steps into, and then there are roles that seem to reach out across time and gently take the actor’s hand, guiding them into something far greater than performance. For Jordan, stepping into the world of The Phantom of the Opera as Christine was not simply a milestone in a career, it was the realization of a dream that had been quietly growing since childhood. The first moment she crossed the stage in Christine’s shoes felt almost surreal, as though she had stepped into the inner life of a character she had long carried within her. Her thoughts raced, mirroring Christine’s own entrance into a world filled with uncertainty and wonder. Beneath the nerves was something deeper, an awareness of the legacy she was now a part of, and a quiet promise to honor not only the countless women who came before her, but also the young girl who once imagined what it might feel like to stand exactly where she stood.
What makes Jordan’s portrayal so profoundly moving is her understanding that Christine’s innocence and strength are not opposites, but reflections of one another. She approaches the role with a tenderness that never feels fragile, allowing compassion and selflessness to become the very roots of Christine’s resilience. In her hands, Christine is not defined by fear, but by her ability to love, to endure, and to choose courage even when her voice trembles. It is a portrayal grounded in truth, one that feels deeply human and achingly real.
Guided by the thoughtful direction of Seth Sklar-Heyn and Dalia Ashurina, Jordan has found the delicate balance between honoring tradition and embracing authenticity. There is a reverence for what has come before, but never at the expense of her own voice. Instead, she is encouraged to bring her full self into the role, trusting that sincerity will always resonate more deeply than imitation. That trust has allowed her performance to bloom into something uniquely her own, something that feels alive each and every night.
In many ways, Jordan’s journey mirrors Christine’s. Like the character she portrays, she stepped into an opportunity that felt larger than life, carrying both self doubt and the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, she was ready. There were moments when belief came from others before it fully took root within her, moments that required her to stand in uncertainty and choose bravery anyway. And like Christine, she has grown into the role, discovering strength not all at once, but gradually, through each performance, each note, each breath taken under the weight of expectation.
Sustaining that vulnerability night after night is no small feat, yet Jordan finds renewal in the presence of her cast. There is a shared commitment to listening, to being fully present, to allowing each performance to feel as though it is unfolding for the very first time. She carries with her the awareness that for someone in the audience, this moment may be unforgettable, a first encounter with the magic of theatre. That understanding becomes her fuel on even the most exhausting days, alongside the discipline and preparation that anchor her when energy wanes.
Her voice, both literal and emotional, is supported by a foundation of rigorous training and care. Under the guidance of mentors like Terence Goff and Dr. Linda Carroll, she has cultivated a technique that allows her to meet the role’s demands with both strength and sustainability. Offstage, the support of fellow performers such as Isaiah Bailey and Daniel Lopez creates a sense of trust that carries seamlessly onto the stage, reminding her that she is never alone in the telling of this story.
There are moments within the performance that feel almost sacred. The stillness of an audience so captivated that even silence feels like a presence. The eruption of applause in the darkness after “Music of the Night,” a wave of energy that washes over the stage and breathes life back into the performers. In those moments, Jordan allows herself a brief glance outward, connecting with the invisible thread that binds performer and audience together in a shared emotional experience.
And always, there is the quiet awareness of those who have come before. Performing alongside Lisa Vroman, a Christine whose legacy still lingers in every note, is both humbling and surreal. The support of fellow Christine Trista Moldovan and the unspoken sisterhood that surrounds the role remind her that she is part of something enduring, something that transcends any single performance. It is a lineage of women who have carried this story, each leaving behind something intangible yet deeply felt.
The sacrifices required to sustain such a role are real. A commitment to health, to discipline, to choices that prioritize longevity over immediacy. Yet for Jordan, these sacrifices are not burdens, but offerings, small prices paid for the privilege of bringing Christine to life. They are reminders of the responsibility she carries, and of the love she holds for the role.
If she could reach beyond the stage and speak to Christine herself, Jordan would offer reassurance. She would remind her that gentleness is not weakness, that kindness is a form of strength the world often underestimates. And perhaps, in doing so, she would also be speaking to the parts of herself that once needed to hear those same words.
When the final curtain falls, and the music fades into memory, what will remain is not just the echo of applause or the grandeur of the production, but something quieter and far more lasting. Jordan will carry with her the strength she discovered along the way, the realization that she is capable of more than she once believed. In bringing Christine to life, she has uncovered her own resilience, her own courage, and a quiet, unshakable confidence that will continue to guide her long after she leaves the stage.
*Photo credit* Mathew Murphy & Evan Zimmerman.*
