By Anibal Ortegas
When Adam Martino (Director of Breakaway Entertainment) told me he wanted to adapt Alexandre Dumas’ The Man in the Iron Mask into a fully original dance musical theatre show, I certainly thought it was going to be an exciting journey. When he asked me if I would like to write the script for it, I was equally thrilled and challenged. It’s a daunting task, of course — taking a beloved literary classic, filled with historical drama, political intrigue and emotional complexity, and translating it into a form that relies on music and movement to create dialogue.
The story — about power, identity, loyalty, and the human cost of secrets — feels just as relevant today as it did in Dumas’ time. We live in a world where image and identity are often manufactured and manipulated, where truth can be hidden behind metaphorical masks and propaganda. That central theme—the idea of someone being silenced, hidden, and replaced—had a big impact on me. And the challenge grew bigger, because in our adaptation, we decided to move the plot to 1920’s Toronto: taking the stage in the Prohibition Era, surrounded by jazz and liquor.
Rather than focusing on the traditional tale, I started sketching and playing with the core themes of the story, and using them almost like existential questions that these characters will need to face – just as I found myself facing them while revisiting the story. Who are these characters, really? What drives them? What do they fear, and what are they willing to risk? Once those questions were answered, I started asking the same questions to myself: questioning my own beliefs and how these core subjects affect my view as a creator in the current political and social climate. That’s how I came to create two new characters inspired by Dumas’ originals who serve as narrators throughout the story. Mixing monologues, dialogues and live singing, these narrators will continuously face our characters (and audience) with existential questions. They will force us to analyze situations from different perspectives, taking opposite sides and presenting an inner battle that I believe many of us are going through right now, with all that’s happening in the world.
Working with dance as the core of the storytelling posed one of the most thrilling challenges. Every gesture, every lift, every shift in rhythm had to communicate what words normally would. How do you show betrayal through a duet? How do you stage a prison escape without dialogue … but still convey tension, risk, and urgency? Dance needed to become not just emotional embellishment but structural narrative. After all, it’s a beautiful and powerful way of telling a story. Movement and music reach people in a way that language sometimes can’t—they go directly to the heart. And that’s the reason I love musical theatre so much. For me, it enhances ordinary language and transforms it into a work of art.
Of course, none of this art exists without music. One of the most joyful aspects of creating this show was curating a musical world that could support the specific visual style of the 1920s. We needed a sound that our audiences could recognize and react to, and lyrics that would fit and advance the plot accordingly. And we committed ourselves to using Canadian recording artists working in the jazz-pop genre as the main catalogue for this fully Canadian jukebox. This challenge yielded wonderful, unexpected surprises. Suddenly, a soaring Celine Dion pop ballad revealed itself as a cry for identity and freedom. Or a jazzy Michael Bublé performance became the perfect backdrop to sustain an evil plan. Matching song to story is a bit like solving a puzzle—but one where each piece has to support the dancers, characters, and plot all at once. You can’t imagine the number of hours I spent listening to singers and musicians trying to find the right fits for our show, so I truly hope you enjoy our selection if (no, when!) you decide to see the show.
What excites me most about this production is how fully it embraces the strengths of musical theatre without relying on its most familiar tools. Dialogue and live singing are limited to just two characters (in a cast of seven), while all the other characters use the language of dance to communicate. Our show invites the audience into an experience where music and movement truly guide them—where emotion is felt before it is understood, and the story is literally danced into being.
The beauty of this form lies in its physicality. You don’t just watch a dance musical—you feel it. When movement and music become the central form of communication, the audience is drawn in on a more instinctive, sensory level. It’s an invitation to interpret, to imagine, and to connect in a way that goes beyond words.
Creating this show was far from easy, and it still feels like a constant work in progress, but it reminded me of why I make theatre in the first place. There is something deeply joyful in taking a familiar story and giving it new shape: something profoundly rewarding in finding that intersection between past and present, literature and lyric, stillness and motion.
The Iron Mask may tell a story from another century, but its heart beats with a very fresh relevance. Through dance, music, and imagination, it finds a new life onstage—one that invites the audience to unmask the truth in every gesture, every note, every turn . . . and to ask if what we are doing – to stand up for what we believe – is correct.
At the Toronto Fringe, you have seven opportunities to peek under Breakaway Entertainment’s The Iron Mask July 3 – 13 at the Theatre Passe Muraille Mainspace, part of the Alliance of Canadian Musicals, spotlighting new Canadian musical theatre. Tickets are available on fringetoronto.com.
© Anibal Ortegas, Sesaya Arts Magazine 2025
