The subject matter is almost beside the point. Evita recounts the rags-to-riches story of a political figure mostly unknown outside of South America: Eva Peron, Argentina’s First Lady from 1946 to 1952.
It was Lloyd Webber and lyricist Tim Rice’s followup to Jesus Christ Superstar, and similarly debuted as a record album, an aural experience only, with the stage show coming almost as an afterthought.
When the curtain rose, in 1978, Evita clawed its way to success, not unlike Eva Peron herself. With its operatic libretto – there is no dialogue – and wide range of musical styles, Evita was Lloyd Webber’s blueprint for the juggernauts that would come later, Cats and The Phantom of the Opera among them.
The Asolo production is like a three-dimensional, three-ring circus — things are moving in every corner. So precise is director Josh Rhodes’s staging, however, that the focus, from center stage to every peripheral shadowbox — is always on Eva.
In this demanding role, Ana Isabelle commands the stage — and as Eva is in nearly every scene, her magnetic presence and powerful voice come to define the entire production. Isabelle’s background as a pop singer has given her a broad emotional palette — an intuitive way of selling the message of a song — that many musical theater divas simply don’t have in the arsenal. She is, simply, dazzling.
In the first act, young Eva Duarte is a struggling actress who dreams of leaving her dreary, lower-class life for something grand. Ambitious and ruthless, she seizes one opportunity after another, unafraid of stepping on those who get in her way, using people, lying and — in the opinion of the lady’s many detractors — sleeping her way to the top.
The story’s conscience is a fictitious figure called Che. He narrates, more or less, as Eva navigates her way from hustler to heroine. The character represents Argentina, whose people are suffering under an oppressive political regime. When Eva meets revolutionary presidential candidate Juan Peron, and attaches herself to him (via a song pointedly titled “I’d Be Surprisingly Good For You”), Che wants to believe, like the crowds who adore Peron and his new wife, that positive change is just around the corner.
He knows, however, that it’s all just a trick of the light. She is window dressing, a glittering figurehead to distract the people from the truth of Peron’s nascent corruption. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
Justin Gregory Lopez’s Che is onstage almost as much as Isabelle’s Eva, although they only interact once or twice — he’s a ghost, an invisible Greek chorus. While Lopez is fine in the role, and sings many of the show’s most appealing numbers (like the totemic “And the Money Kept Rolling In”), Che is merely a device, a framework for the storytelling, and as such grows tiresome. That he looks like the notorious revolutionary Che Guevera is no accident (historically, there's no evidence that Che Guevera and Eva Peron ever met).
Rhodes also designed the show’s sexy, electifying choreography, which, like Lloyd Weber’s score, skillfully blends elements of diverse styles, from tango and rhumba to jazz and rock ‘n’ roll. There’s an argument to be made here that this ensemble is so good, it’s another major character in the show. Like Isabelle’s Eva, when the ensemble comes onstage you know something fantastic is about to happen.
There are many moments of that caliber in this Evita. When she enters as the second act begins, transformed into the goddess-like First Lady, the entire theater vibrates with anticipation.
Wearing a beaded white evening gown, and with her mousy brown hair dyed blonde and pulled back into a tight bun, she is now Santa Evita, the most beloved woman in the country.
Here, Isabelle climbs a 30-foot stairway to address the adoring crowds — and the audience — and to sing “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina,” framed by an enormous, glowing orange orb, the rising sun on a brave new Argentina.
But is it? As circumstances make clear (and as the ever-present Che keeps reminding us), Juan Peron is only too aware of his wife’s usefulness, to distract the people with glamor, charity and compassion. “She’s a diamond in their dull grey lives,” Peron (Nick Duckart) sings. She embarks on a successful public relations tour through Europe, as Argentina’s ambassador of goodwill (“The Rainbow Tour,” one of the few pointedly humorous songs in the show). We begin to suspect she's really just Marie Antoinette, and that she's about to say something about cake.
Whether Eva was being used, or was in on the using, is never made clear. Indeed, the politics of Evita are almost secondary to the story – rather like the fist-pumping backdrop of the Barricades freedom fighters in Les Miserables.
At the end of the day, Evita isn’t about history or politics (although its sub-plots about style over substance, and celebrity sleight-of-hand, certainly carry resonance in today’s America). It’s entertainment, and as such, succeeds wonderfully.
With the exception of “Don’t Cry For Me,” there were no breakout pop hits from Evita. Most of the songs, taken out of their context in the script, wouldn’t make a lot of sense. Too bad, because Evita features some of Lloyd Webber’s loveliest, and most affecting, melodies.
It’s meant to be experienced as a package, start to finish, song to song to song. And with its stunning stage and lighting design, innovative use of projection, special effects and more, Asolo has crafted a flawless vehicle in which Ana Isabelle and an exemplary cast can shine.
This article appears in Nov 16-23, 2017.