Theatre in Review: Evita (Marquis Theatre)

Eva Peron has proven to be a polarizing figure in death as in life -- so why not the actress who plays her? The Broadway revival of Evita has sent show fans into a tizzy, endlessly debating, in chat rooms and bars all over town, the merits (or lack of same) of Elena Roger -- who, whether you like her or not, rules over Michael Grandage's production with an iron hand. The sticking point, of course, is her voice -- and let me say right now, if you're expecting an evening of beautiful singing, full of creamy tones and perfectly achieved high notes, this is not the Evita for you. The possessor of a reedy, nasal voice with a pronounced wobble and a not entirely secure technique, Roger sounds closer to Edith Piaf (who, by the way, she portrayed to acclaim in the West End). At the same time, there's nothing shy about Roger's approach; she throws herself into the Andrew Lloyd Webber-Tim Rice score with reckless abandon, grabbing each note with a damn-it-all ambition that thrills and terrifies at the same time. And if she goes flat, what of it? She's Eva Peron, you peons!

Under normal circumstances, this might be cause for serious reservations. But these are not normal circumstances, and Roger's sometimes-unlovely tones manage to become an integral part of a truly astonishing performance. A tiny woman who bears a marked resemblance to the real Eva Peron (and an Argentine), Roger comes equipped with the kind of natural star power that no amount of money can buy. Even in her first appearance, in the back of a crowd in a rustic tavern, your eye is naturally drawn to her. In any case, she doesn't stay in the background for long. Even as she practices emotional blackmail on a visiting entertainer, using him as her ticket to the big city, it's clear who has the upper hand. By the time, mere minutes later, that she leads the chorus in a tango-inspired rampage in "Buenos Aires," there's no question that the lady means business.

Roger's Eva is appetite personified and ambition unleashed, a petite monster with infinite funds of energy and an unstoppable sense of purpose. She goes about the business of sexual social-climbing with the minimum of fuss; we see her coldly turning away one lover after another, replacing each with a better, more influential model. This little version of La Ronde ends when she coils herself around Juan Peron, delivering a remarkably insinuating version of "I'd Be Surprisingly Good for You." A match is made; a deal is struck. From there, it's a short trip to the Casa Rosada, where the adoring crowds await.

By the time Roger appears, transformed in a gorgeous white gown, her hair pulled back, a changed woman possessed of a new gravity, to deliver a stunningly manipulative "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina" -- she leans in unladylike fashion over that famous balcony, all but insisting that the people have put her there, against her will -- you have to marvel at how a driven girl from the provinces has transformed herself into the icon of a nation.

It helps enormously that Roger has a Juan Peron who can match her coruscating presence. The role of Juan isn't that exciting -- he mostly stands around looking like an exhibit lifted from a wax museum -- but Michael Cerveris' star power and superb voice are put to excellent use here. There's also a powerful sexual connection between Roger's Eva and his Juan, a sense that they excite each other and egg each other on. His animal howl when, dying, she collapses in front of him is one of the most startling moments in a production that does not lack for them.

Ricky Martin's Che is, on its own terms, an accomplished performance. He sings beautifully and leads the chorus, dancing strenuously in "And the Money Kept Rolling In," which recounts Eva's slightly shady Lady Bountiful efforts on behalf of the poor. If I have any reservations about his work, it's that he lacks a certain sardonic edge. Che isn't really a role -- he's theatrical device, present only to editorialize about Eva -- and, as such, anyone who plays him must infuse him with his own personality. In the original production, Mandy Patinkin, of course, played him as a stylized Che Guevera, practically spitting with contempt for the Perons. Matt Rawle, who played him in the West End version of this production, turned him into a sensitive, tortured Argentine youth, paralyzed by the irony of it all. Martin, a polished pop entertainer, acts as our compere for the evening, inviting us in and making sure we're comfortable. He's at his best in the quieter, more contemplative numbers, such as "High Flying Adored," in which he notes that Eva has nowhere to go but down.

The combined result of these performances, under Grandage's galvanizing and canny direction, is an Evita that seems like a truly cohesive musical drama. I've always felt that, after an exciting first act, the show merely marks time until Eva's big death scene. Here, the second act seems like a mordant exploration of the limits of power and the evanescence of fame. Eva's much-publicized "rainbow tour" draws mixed reviews, her social welfare programs are mired in corruption, her attempt at seizing the vice-presidency is controversial, and, finally, her body fails her as cancer takes over. Roger fearlessly draws Eva's rise and fall, turning Evita into a powerful parable about a woman who is vanquished by forces even her unconquerable will can't surmount.

There's plenty more to like in Grandage's production. Max von Essen is in good voice as Malgadi, the oily balladeer who becomes Eva's first conquest. As Peron's teenage mistress, given the boot by Eva, Rachel Potter provides a tougher, more pragmatic reading of the lovely ballad "Another Suitcase in Another Hall," but it's an attention-getter nonetheless. Rob Ashford's electrifying choreography finds in the tangled limbs and erotic heat of the tango an excellent metaphor for the calculating seductions and backroom dealings that make up Eva's career. Much of the action unfolds in front of an evocative scenic surround, designed by Christopher Oram, depicting the kind of Belle Epoque architecture that still dominates Buenos Aires' skyline. (The addition of single piece of scenery transforms the set from an exterior to an interior.) Neil Austin's brilliant lighting makes use of low front and side angles to give everything a film-noir touch. His interiors are dark, almost clammy, with brilliant bursts of lighting shooting through open doorways or half-shaded windows; thanks to his contribution, the very air reeks with corruption. Oram's costumes feel thoroughly authentic; Zak Borovay has provided some stunning, wide-screen newsreel footage of Eva Peron's funeral, showing a nation lost in mourning; and Mick Potter's sound design keeps the voices on top of the music at all times. (There are new orchestrations, by Lloyd Webber and David Cullen, which sound far more authentically Argentine.)

I have a feeling people are going to be debating Roger's performance long after this Evita concludes what one imagines will be a lengthy and profitable run. And, in a way, that's the way it should be. Most great stars, by nature, are divisive; that's what makes them so memorable. You can love her or hate her, but you can't ignore her. We may never again see an actress so suited to this demanding and difficult role.--David Barbour