THEATER REVIEW
“Evita”
Grade: A
7:30 p.m. Wednesday-Thursday; 8 p.m. Friday; 2 and 8 p.m. Saturday; 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sunday. Through Sunday. Tickets start at $30. Fox Theatre, 660 Peachtree St. N.E., Atlanta. 1-855-285-8499, foxtheatre.org.
Bottom line: Dazzling.
What happens when a poor girl from the Argentine countryside attaches herself to a charismatic politician, dresses herself from head to toe in Christian Dior and dons a shimmering crown of peroxide-blonde hair?
Why, “Evita,” of course.
Based on the true story of Eva Perón, the 1979 Broadway musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice is a quintessential rags-to-riches tale that fairly drips with sex, ambition, glamour, political intrigue and tragedy.
A style maven who set the tone for a tabloid age littered with the corsages and corpses of Princess Grace, Princess Diana and Jackie Kennedy, Evita was a queen and a saint to a nation of people who longed for a better life. She was not just a politician’s wife; she was a religion. But her lust for grandeur was also perfumed with scandal and corruption, and nothing captures the seedy, suspect nature of her biography like “Evita.”
On Tuesday night, the national tour of director Michael Grandage and choreographer Rob Ashford’s lukewarmly received 2012 Broadway revival arrived at the Fox Theatre — apparently restoring the emotional temperature of the material to an appropriately steamy level. (For the record, it completely rocked my world.)
Narrated by the unsympathetic Che (Josh Young), the musical begins with the spectacle of Evita’s state funeral. It quickly flashes back to the time when young Eva (Caroline Bowman), desperate to escape the doldrums of small-town life, skips town with a dance hall named singer Magaldi (the wonderful Christopher Johnstone) and never looks back. Magaldi’s splendidly sung “On This Night of a Thousand Stars” presages the luminous trajectory of immortality that awaits Evita, who goes through lovers like boxes of tissue (“Goodnight and Thank You”) before setting her eyes on Juan Perón (Sean MacLaughlin). When this couple dances the tango, they sizzle.
As far as the snarky character of Che goes, Young is almost tender. But from the very first note of “Oh, What a Circus,” he sings like an angel, his one-of-a-kind instrument setting the tone for a show that is exceptionally well sung. Bowman, for her part, captures the earthy fire of a young woman who will transform herself into an object of desire and adoration. MacLaughlin is very fine, nailing the preening physicality of a man who goes from military hero to the equivalent of a Roman emperor. (Notice the medallion-like profiles of Juan and Evita suspended over the stage before the curtain is drawn.)
Though it’s easy to dismiss Rice’s lyrics as the lightweight pop they often are, they are invested with a wholly delicious pop sheen. In just a few syllables, he encapsulate oceans of meaning and irony — as when Evita instructs her dressers to “Christian Dior me” and “Machiavell me.” Perfect.
Christopher Oram gets credit for capturing both the monumental splendor of the city of Buenos Aires and its people, whom he garbs in exquisite clothing. (Neil Austin washes it all in sumptuous light, and Mick Potter’s sound design is crisp and vibrant.) But sets and costumes are nothing without actors to inhabit them. And this company, who dances Ashford’s choreography with blistering intensity, is without peer. This is not only the best “Evita” I have ever witnessed; it ranks among the best productions in memory.
