Walking on Moonbeams: Masquerade’s Once Is Delicately Golden

by Ash Kotter

Walls textured with abstract brush strokes of gold and green. Globe string lights draped overhead, the kind you find in backyard patios and beer gardens. No harsh distinction between audience and stage, only warmth. Strings and keys had already taken their places. Pages of programs shuffled, shoes scuffed against the floor — the percussive underscore of an eager audience waiting for the opening number. A sudden caesura in the general murmur as two musicians casually took their seats on the outskirts of the playing space, their instruments settling into the familiar curves of their bodies as they started what felt like a warm-up; disjointed at first but soon finding an organic unity. Two more players trickled in and joined the pulse of what was now clearly a jam session: more strings, some fingerstyle, some strumming. A violin caught the loose thread already floating around the room. Ivories rounded out a melody. The ensemble’s stomping feet became their orchestra’s conductor. Echoes of an anthem bounced off the walls. Someone cried out a folk howl. The music stopped. A singular overhead lantern’s light hugged the silhouette of a Guy and his guitar. No scripted pre-show announcement or thanking of sponsors or promoting the next show of the season or reminders to turn off our cell phones. Once had already taken its hold. 

Once: The Musical at Masquerade Theatre doesn’t need to announce itself – it trusts the audience to feel their way through. Like the music at the heart of this journey (and the 2007 film and musical duo it gave rise to), it swells. The bones are the same between source material and musical adaptation: a Dublin busker and a Czech pianist, a few days, a few songs, a lifetime of change. In the stage musical, background characters from the film become an ensemble that serves as a throughline, not only providing the orchestration but also acting as active characters, with their instruments becoming extensions of themselves. A song becomes a scene; a moment, a decision. 

Director Megan Knowlton Balne leans into the show’s intimacy, proving that Once doesn’t need spectacle to be heard in a venue built for close connection. It’s a show that easily scales up to play to a 500+ seat house, but Once shines brightest in the delicate and the dainty. Presented up close and personal in Masquerade’s black box theatre in Riverside, New Jersey, the small space is far from a limitation here. It’s a gift.

“Our goal was for the audience to be completely surrounded by and part of the music,” Knowlton Balne shared, a goal well achieved with Music Director David A. Schwartz shaping an ensemble sound that’s spontaneous and emotionally genuine, never overproduced or forced.

The chemistry between Guy (Tommy Foy) and Girl (Courtney “Birdy” Bird) is the heartbeat of Once, and Foy and Bird honor that by letting their relationship unfold slowly and patiently, even though the timeline spans a few quick days. Their bond steadily builds over a broken Hoover, stolen glances, and music that sings more than either quite knows how to say. Their first play-through of "Falling Slowly,” the ballad that earned the motion picture an Academy Award for Best Original Song, marks the first moment they reach toward each other without fully knowing how: Guy and his guitar, lost in the music he was initially reluctant to share, while Girl, accompanying him on piano, occasionally lets her gaze drift toward him, really seeing him. They never look at each other at the same time as they create this moment and this music together. Knowlton Balne gives this a beautifully full-circle reprise with deliberate intention; and with that, I say no more — you’ll have to let that moment move you when you see it. 

Foy delivers a subtle and grounded performance as Guy, and his vocal artistry is remarkably raw by design. He gives us less of a performance and more of a confession, which is precisely why Foy gets it right. His sound comes from somewhere deep within (a moment that feels like Hozier’s Yell™ #iykyk), and it travels through his entire body before it gets to our ears. Birdy’s Girl is sharp and carefully measured. Where a lesser performance might flatten Girl into a stereotype of seriousness (“I’m always serious, I’m Czech,” she says), Bird shapes her with dry wit, cautious hope, and soft strength. Birdy’s haunting vocals mirror that precision, stylized and tightly controlled, emoting like light peeking into a dark room through a door left slightly ajar. 

Knowlton Balne seamlessly threads the actor-musician ensemble into the fabric of this production. Sometimes we meet them as characters; other times, they linger at the edges, observing with a neutral yet always fully engaged presence. They fill the space as both storyteller and soundtrack, moving between multiple instruments with lived-in ease, untethered by sheet music or stands. Mark Gollihur, bassist and guitarist, gives a rough-around-the-edges charm as Billy, the cranky but good-hearted music shop owner who offers Girl a place to play. His gruffness makes his gorgeous a cappella solo during the "Gold" reprise feel vulnerably exposed. Sean McGarry, a local Fight Director making his acting debut as Da and the Bank Manager, brings both humor and a nurturing kindness to his performance, tying two very different characters together with understated heart. Even though Guy tells the Banker he shouldn’t sing, McGarry shows evident talent in vocals, guitar, and percussion. 

Kathleen Corvino shines as the playfully sarcastic and seductive Réza, and carries much of the show’s soulful folk sound as the ensemble’s violinist. As Guy’s Ex-Girlfriend, seen only in glimmers, Corvino suggests an entire emotional history with almost no words. Ruben J. Cardona, a musician by trade, brings a bright comedic touch and hopeful sincerity to his acting debut as Andrej. Trisha Dennis lends gravitas to Baruška, especially in her pivotal moment, when she encourages Guy to hold onto his music and his dreams, delivering this tale as a kind of inheritance. Young Lillian Balne and Abigail Balne add adorable sweetness in their alternating performances as Girl’s daughter Ivonka, even picking up a violin with ease (likely with a few backstage tips from Corvino herself). David Nikolas, as the caffeinated, soap-opera-loving Svec, steals a standout moment during the recording studio scene, played fearlessly and hilariously in his underpants. It was giving Animal from The Muppets in a way that this reviewer and her guest can only extend as our highest compliment.

Notably, no dialect coach is billed on the production team; yet, the accent work throughout the production was well-executed and believable. While a native speaker or someone closely attuned to the accents might be more critical, for the casual listener, the distinctions were clear: Dublin and Cork accents are meaningfully differentiated, and the Czech dialect consistently and thoughtfully maintained amongst the actors. Some actors took on multiple accents. Impressive work all around.

The design choices by and large emphasize the show’s spirit, playing on suggestion rather than literal interpretation. Georgia DeFrank’s scenic art and design is layered with evocative geometric structure and symbolic flourishes, a visual invitation to meet the world halfway. A painted window blends Celtic and Czech motifs, honoring the way the characters find new roots across cultures and continents. Wall art featuring a handmade guitar fashioned from bottle caps (possibly sourced from LJ Bird and New Spin Designs, a bottle cap artist featured in the program) adds a homespun, tactile detail. The set built by Scott Reynolds keeps the staging area flexible; a few platforms and the hint of a bar allow the actors to create the environment around them.

A small monitor hangs just above the audience’s natural sightline, displaying Czech translations during moments when Girl’s Czech family and friends, speaking English for the audience’s benefit, were understood to be speaking Czech within the world. It’s a thoughtful gesture, aiming to honor the characters’ native language, and similar choices have been executed in larger productions. One of this production’s greatest strengths is its profound trust in the audience. In a world crafted by so much implication, this feels like a rare moment where something that could have been meaningfully suggested was instead spelled out for us. Perhaps the same idea could have been conveyed even more powerfully through subtler means. Still, the care behind the decision was unmistakably sincere and speaks to the production’s deep respect for the world it builds.

Tommy Balne’s lighting design rejects traditional theatrical formality; the low-hanging globe string lights, which might have initially suggested simple ambient décor, instead glow and shift in response to the emotional temperature of each scene, from earthy and inviting to cool and suspended, even subtly following Guy’s path at key moments. Dante Brattelli’s choreography wisely allows the movement to remain casual and expressive. Cheers to Stage Manager Stoney (Trish) Aristone, whose work behind the scenes ensures that every moment and movement lands exactly as intended.

Masquerade’s Once raises a hopeful voice. Opening night was sold out, and it’s easy to understand why. Once doesn’t demand attention; it asks you to tune into finer frequencies. It’s not built on declarations, but on accumulations, a testament to the clarity and restraint of the entire creative team. In a small space where every seat matters, those hoping to experience it would be wise to move quickly. Don’t wait forever. Once plays at Masquerade Theatre through May 11. Get your tickets here: https://www.simpletix.com/e/once-tickets-179303