Theater review
EVITA
At the Palladium in London, England.
LONDON — One of the most controversial sights on any professional stage right now isn’t even happening on the stage, per se. It takes place on the balcony outside the London Palladium during “Evita.”
The unbelievable Rachel Zegler, as Eva Perón, leaves the venue for some fresh air and sings “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” to hundreds of gathered freeloaders below on Argyll Street, while the paying audience inside watches a video feed.
Far from feeling cheated, however, on the night I went, the theater burst into cheers as the camera panned across the rapt masses.
Many theater fans reflexively bristle at screens. And, granted, there are plenty of pointless projections out there. But this move is far from a gimmick.
The dense crowd shrewdly transforms into the working-class “descamisados,” the populist force that thrust Evita’s husband, Juan Perón, to presidential power in 1940s Argentina.
And director Jamie Lloyd finds a clever way to create a nearly real rally. Striking and unforgettable, it is an ingenious flourish.
This bracing revival of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s “Evita,” the best and liveliest in ages, is packed full of them.
Fresh off the fabulous “Sunset Boulevard” on Broadway with Nicole Scherzinger, auteur Lloyd and popular Lloyd Webber continue their weird, winning partnership. And, yes, there are clear similarities.
Reality and history are again shown the door. The sexy modern outfits are back off the rack. As is the stripping of scenery, and later, clothes. Obviously, an actor embarks on another live-streamed adventure.
Despite an overlap of signature style, though, their atmospheres couldn’t be more opposite — from luxe horror to arena tour. There’s a lot that’s new, Buenos Aires.
If that screen-heavy “Sunset” depicted fading Hollywood star Norma Desmond’s life as one grand, delusional movie, dance-driven “Evita” makes Eva’s fleeting, high-flying existence into a speaker-busting pop concert.
The divisive Argentine first lady — who, in a flash, goes from a poor child from the sticks to glam actress to the most influential woman in South America — is depicted as a worshipped chart-topper who, after dying young at 33, just won’t leave us.
For Lloyd’s vision, you can’t do better than Gen. Z star Zegler. With “Snow White” miles in the rearview, she makes a phenomenal and especially calculating Evita. Her resolute climber is obsessed with escaping her low-class upbringing, and her mean pursuit of power is as two-faced as it gets.
For instance, when she’s al fresco on the balcony, Zegler dons the familiar white gown and blonde wig, and soothes listeners like a sweet songbird.
Back in the Palladium, the warm facade fades. The actress whips off the hairpiece, wears a black bra-top and lace-up boots and holds a mic as though she’s Madonna on the Blonde Ambition Tour. What a manipulative material girl she is.
Welcome to Eva’s Ambition Tour. Leading the chants for her husband’s political campaign in “A New Argentina,” her inside voice is a savage belt. And I have never heard the fiendishly difficult makeover number “Rainbow High” sung better.
Many of Lloyd Webber’s tunes, and this is among the composer’s finest scores, are more hot-blooded than they’ve ever been thanks to Zegler’s cords of steel and choreographer Fabian Aloise’s sharp, animated dances that aren’t the typical tempered tangos.
Aloise, who really should be billed as co-director, contorts an amiably catchy exposition song, “Rainbow Tour,” into a pumped-up showstopper with dabbing and cheerleader knee raises. “And the Money Kept Rolling In” rolls faster and as sleek as a Bugatti.
The choreo and, indeed, the show are angry, party hearty, impolite and very loud.
Expressive and in control, Zegler completely about-faces from last season’s lacking “Romeo + Juliet.” A musical-theater revelation, though she is, there are draws beyond Eva.
The exciting Diego Andres Rodriguez, who was Artie in “Sunset,” seizes the stage as Che, the activist narrator who blasts Eva and the Perónism movement for screwing the people even as she basks in their love.
Beguiling, he strays from Che’s old revolutionary road and instead embodies a contemporary protestor with meme appeal and youthful angst. The American actor is pure pipes, and Zegler’s perfect opponent.
The tall tip of their not-quite-love triangle is James Olivas’ regal Perón. He’s more photogenic than the common casting choices for the part, and his magazine-readiness clicks for 21st-century eyes. He’s electable — think Justin Trudeau — and for hungry Eva, easy to puppeteer.
When Perón’s wife becomes sick with cancer, the couple’s battle for dominance gives way to falsetto hurt and behind-closed-doors weakness. In the end, as Evita crumples during “You Must Love Me,” Zegler and Olivas hit much harder than I initially thought they could.
The one character our hearts go out to, though, is Perón’s poor mistreated mistress, tenderly played by Bella Brown in a “Fifth Element” wig. She sings a lovely and vulnerable “Another Suitcase in Another Hall” before she’s kicked to the curb by the new lady of the house.
Her outpouring of pain is part of a revival that’s majority addictive pleasure.
Some will grumble that the storytelling isn’t beat-for-beat simple to follow. It’s not literal, that’s for sure. The set is a staircase with the word “EVITA” illuminated behind it. But the abstraction gels with Lloyd Webber and Rice’s 1976 thematic telling, in which Eva Perón’s whirlwind of a life isn’t an easy one to grasp. She’s loved and loathed; relatable and revolting.
As with Evita herself, viewers will certainly take extreme stances on Lloyd’s latest revamp. After all, you can’t spell inevitable without “Evita.”
So what happens now? “Evita” should come right to Broadway. Pronto. The reported tiffs among the creative team are a counterproductive distraction. The show marks a huge improvement from director Michael Grandage’s wearisome revival with Ricky Martin. And Broadway could use the jolt — one that’s both crowd-pleasing and thought-provoking.
Some tightenings and tweaks are needed, particularly reining in lounge singer Magaldi as a hammy comedy routine.
But as ravenous Evita sings: I don’t really think I need the reasons why I won’t succeed — I haven’t started.
