Written by Andrea Braun Friday, 11 October 2013 12:59
Much of the time, it is a joyful celebration of life and arguably the pinnacle, at least to date, of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s oeuvre.
If you haven’t seen Evita since the London revival in 2006, then you haven’t seen Evita. The story of the 15 year old who slept her way out of the slums and into the highest society when she married Juan Peron at 26 remains the same. With her help, he was elected president of Argentina the following year. Evita became a hero to the people among whom she had lived, the bastard child of a man with another family who wasn’t even welcome at her own father’s funeral. When she tells the poor, the “descamisados,” that she understands them, she’s not lying. In the seven years before her death at 33, she becomes much more than a First Lady to her people.
And the show opens as it always has with Evita’s followers mourning her passing. But then we begin to notice some differences. The narrator, Che (Josh Young), is no longer “Che Guevara,” Cuban revolutionary, but has reverted to simply “Che,” which means something like “guy.” It’s also a greeting like “hi.” According to background material provided by the Fox, this was the way the character was intended to be played, but when Evita came to Broadway in 1976, producer Hal Prince decided to make him a real man who never even met Eva Peron. That always seemed strange, and now that it’s rectified and Che is just a representative of the collective mind of Argentina, this immediately becomes a stronger show.
Technology unavailable in earlier times lends immediacy to Evita’s funeral as projections of the mourners following her coffin in the streets gradually enlarges to fill the entire back of the stage, sweeping the actors onstage up into the moment. Che and the company sing “Requiem,” while dancing a mournful tango, then Che leads them in “Oh, What a Circus” to set up the story. Eva Duarte (Caroline Bowman) rides on her back to Buenos Aires with a tango singer, Magaldi (Christopher Johnstone) whom she quickly casts aside. She begins working as a radio actress, and at a party one night, she meets her destiny in the person of much-older Juan Peron (Sean MacLaughlin). He falls for her immediately, and she seizes the moment, ejecting his mistress (Krystina Alabado) into the street in her nightie. Ironically, she reflects the younger Evita — a poor girl who is keeping the best she knows how — and her sad-but-hopeful “Another Suitcase in Another Hall” is an obvious reference to the journey of Eva herself.
Peron is a conflicted politician — every once in a while he muses about heading off to Paraguay to drink and smoke cigars — but he is also a disciplined military man. As the Perons campaign and in their first years in office, there is more a whiff of the golden couple of Camelot, and I don’t mean Arthur and Guinevere. Eva lavishes money and gifts on her beloved poor, but she doesn’t keep accounts; well, except for that one in Switzerland she and her husband share to live in the style to which they’ve become accustomed. The people call her “Mother Eva” and even “Santa Eva,” handing her their babies to hold and bless. She knows she is no saint, still, that doesn’t stop her from exploiting the image. She has an army of servants and dressers, and her new role is summed up best in one single line when she’s being clothed (symbolically armed for battle by her squire), “Christian Dior me.” She knows that the poor want her to care for them, but they do not want her to resemble them. And resplendent in usually white gowns, with occasional tailored suits, she most certainly does not.
But all good things must, indeed, end, and Eva gradually weakens during the “Rainbow Tour,” a goodwill journey she and Peron embark on across Europe. Spain loves her; Italy doesn’t. Paris isn’t sure; England snubs her — not unlike the mixed reception to her in Argentina because the middle and upper classes aren’t too thrilled with her either. She refuses to accept that she’s fading, however, and wishes to run for vice president so she will be taken more seriously by the entire country, but that is not to be. A striking visual from her death is the conversion of a hospital bed into a coffin, merely by draping it with the Argentine flag.
This production has ramped up the dancing and added a lot of tango to enhance a more Latin-flavored rendition of the famous score. One big mistake is having Young and Bowman try to tango while singing “Waltz for Evita and Che.” I know — the song title doesn’t make sense now. They both have the voices of angels, but Young clearly is not a dancer. Still, I don’t think anyone since Mandy Patinkin has hit some of those notes. Both of them are good actors, as well. MacLaughlin has one of the most thankless parts ever to be seen on Broadway, and he’s not as strong vocally as the other two, but he soldiers on admirably. The orchestra is flawless throughout.
The legend of Evita is more important than her life, most likely. And it is Andrew Lloyd Webber (music, orchestration) and Tim Rice (lyrics, book) who are responsible for creating and maintaining the legend. Apparently the two revisit the show periodically and update it. With this version, I think they have the Evita we all want. It’s not problem free, of course, most notably the first act is gangbusters closing with the triumphant anthem, “A New Argentina,” and the second drags a bit after “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” near the top of Act II. But really, where can you go from there?
The show is visually arresting with a smoky, noir-ish feel. Soft lights bathe everyone, rich and poor, in an almost-otherworldly glow. That makes sense to the story too, since Eva is literally living the dream, at least until she isn’t. By the time of her death, the “new” Argentina had reverted to being the “old” Argentina, if in fact, it ever was anything else. But while they had their people’s princess, at least morale was much higher among the underclasses, which gave an illusion of peace and even prosperity. So much of her life is fictionalized here, especially Peron’s role as her husband and in government; if you’re interested in the “real” Eva Peron, use another source. Incidentally, the odd fact that her body disappeared for 17 years is mentioned, yet the odder fact that when it was returned to Peron he kept in the dining room despite the presence of yet another Señora Peron, is not.
Unlike other Lloyd-Webber and Rice musicals, Evita doesn’t seem dated (or at least it doesn’t now) because the issues it deals with—the machinations of politics and power, both public and sexual; class warfare, and the unending problem of deep poverty for much of a country—are still with us, and they probably always will be. I realize I’ve made Evita sound like a downer what with early deaths and poor people and whatnot, but it isn’t. Much of the time, it is a joyful celebration of life and arguably the pinnacle, at least to date, of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s oeuvre. I can promise one thing: If you go, you’re sure to see more than “just a little bit of star quality.” | Andrea Braun
NOTE: Desi Oakley plays the title role two times a week, as is customary with this show.
Director: Michael Grandage; Choreographer: Rob Ashford; Scenery and Costumes: Christopher Oram; Lighting Design: Neil Austin; Sound Design: Mick Potter; Projection Design: Zachary Borovay; Dance Arrangements: David Chase
Musical Direction/Conductor: William Waldrup; Music Supervisor: Kristen Blodgette
Evita runs at the Fox Theatre through October 20, 2013. More information is available at fabulousfox.com.