A Tale Of Two Evitas (Analysis and Review)
I have gathered that I am somewhat unusual among fans of the Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber musical Evita in that I actually like the 1996 film adaptation. Moreso than liking it, I think it's actually good.
The reasons why people don't like movie adaptations of popular musicals can be subtle and complicated, and a well-known case in point has been made by Lindsay Ellis' analysis of Joel Schumacher's adaptation of The Phantom Of The Opera. In her analysis, Ellis points to elements of framing, changes to the material, and the subtleties of cinematography that make Phantom an exceptionally weak adaptation of incredibly strong musical. But when you ask the average person what went wrong with the Phantom movie, the answer you usually get is "Gerard Butler can't sing."
And this is a pattern with a lot of movie musicals. The changes can be numerous and subtle, but the ones that people tend to notice up-front are "they cast movie stars who can't sing," and "they changed things in adaptation, which is, by definition bad." Chicago seems to be the only major movie adaptation of a popular musical that has escaped both these criticisms, despite seemingly inviting them blatantly. For even though Catherine Zeta-Jones and Renée Zellweger were cast instead of Broadway actresses with musical theater experience, both of them proved to have the vocal chops for the role, as well as, it goes without saying, the acting ability. And even though much of the text was changed from the stage show, it was done in the service of making the overall story of the musical work on film. Chicago, as written by Kander, Ebb, and Fosse, leans heavily on theatrical devices that would be confusing at best, and unsettling at worst, when put on screen, and so Rob Marshall replaces them with a new set of filmic devices that achieve the same ultimate effect in the new medium. Chicago as a movie understands that film and theater have different strengths, and telling the same story in both media demands different approaches. In some ways, the differences between the movie and the stage show don't even register, because the movie is so confident in its new mode of storytelling that you don't even think to compare the two.
Evita does tend to attract the star-casting critism, but beyond that is in some ways the inverse of Chicago. Andrew Lloyd Webber's musicals are famously cinematic in scope, and Evita is no exception. (In both Evita and The Phantom Of The Opera, director Hal Prince managed to famously trick the audience into thinking the productions were less minimalist than they really were. A black box concept allowed for the film-like flow between scenes, but Prince managed to fill the space in a way which felt more involved than it actually was.) The sort of film style used for the movie seems practically intuitive given the way the show is written. Changes made to the text seemed to either be for the sake of giving Madonna, the star, more to do (though a famously difficult role, Eva can do as much singing as she likes when she's not constrained by having to sing it live multiple times a week), or else minor line changes and small cuts to get the run time down and make Tim Rice's infamously pun-filled lyrics a bit easier to parse.
But I submit that, despite trying to seem like an adaptation that keeps the same basic core of the musical it's adapting, the changes made in to Evita add up to something that is not only dramatically satisfying, but fundamentally different from what is presented in the stage show. Whereas Chicago tells you up front that it is wildly different from the stage production, and then surprises you by hitting the same points with equal ease, Evita tricks you into thinking that you are getting essentially a filmed version of the stage show while actually delivering a subtly, but substantially different interpretation of the material. Hence fans of the musical being disappointed without really being able to pin down why, beyond "Madonna had to have 'A New Argentina' transposed down." (And, for the record, I've heard enough high-belting Evas by now that I'll take the oft-missed low notes any day.)
So I'm going to do what I did with Bounce and Road Show a few months ago, and outline some of the changes, and how they affect the dramaturgy of the piece.
Both Stage and Film start the same way. With the news of Eva's death, and a scene of her funeral, which is interrupted by Che, our narrator. Now, Che has continually been a point of confusion throughout Evita's history. Specifically, is he Che Guevara or not? Tim Rice has given conflicting answers. In the original concept album, some of the text is drawn from Che Guevara, most notably in the song "The Lady's Got Potential," in which Peron's rise to power is described in parallel with Che's developing a new bug spray. Though this event was drawn from the history of the real Che Guevara, it came across as random and confusing in the context of Evita, and so at Hal Prince's urging, the song was cut. But Prince liked the idea of having Che Guevara as the narrator, and in the original production, the character was costumed as such. As best I can tell, the movie was the first version of Evita to drop Guevara entirely and make Che more of an "everyman." Everyman-Che has since become more commonplace, and, frankly, the main benefit of that is that it's less confusing. Eva Peron already comes with so much political baggage, there's no need to add Che Guevara to the pile.
Notably, Che's first song, "Oh What A Circus," contains a verse in which he describes himself. "And who am I who dares to keep his head held high while millions weep?" The movie, when it made Che an everyman, cut this verse. Since Che is no longer Guevara, there's no need for him to introduce himself to the audience or for us to wonder why he's there. Annoyingly, subsequent productions of Evita that have gone the everyman route with the character have still kept this verse, which is now superfluous, and, worse, rhymes "saw" with "four," which even in a non-rhotic accent is painful.
The movie and stage show then proceed in much the same way for the first scene, differing only in some minor lyric tweaks up until Eva arrives in Buenos Aires. In the stage show, the song "Goodnight And Thank You" occurs, but in the movie, Eva gets to sing "Another Suitcase In Another Hall" first. And this is the first major change to Eva's character. In the stage show, Eva is a force of nature unto herself, ruthlessly barreling forward no matter what, and never showing any sign of weakness. It makes her thrilling to watch on stage, but not very relatable. In the film, by giving Eva a song here where she's allowed to be vulnerable, she is able to garner real sympathy early on. Now she is no longer ruthless by her own innate nature, but, in the one-two punch of "Another Suitcase" and "Goodnight And Thank You," she becomes ruthless because she has to be for survival. This makes her more human, which is neither good nor bad in and of itself. Again, Force-Of-Nature Eva is a magnetic character. Human Eva is more relatable, and thus likeable in a completely different way.
Small lyric changes are made to "Good Night And Thank You" in order for it to make sense coming after "Another Suitcase." Notably, some of the pronouns Che uses change as well. In the original song, Che refers to himself and Eva using a collective "we" in this song. Eg, "If we've missed anything, you could give us a ring, but we don't always answer the phone." At this point in the story, Che is on Eva's side, because she's part of the lower class of whom he is a representative, and he approves of her manipulating and conning the people in power. The film, by changing these lyrics, does serve to distance Che from Eva, but, as with giving her "Another Suitcase," emphasizes her being alone -- and remember that Force-Of-Nature Eva is alone because she can be. Human Eva is alone because she has to be.
At this point, the musical proceeds with "The Art Of The Possible," introducing the character of Juan Peron in a game of musical chairs as he sings his opportunistic political philosophy. The dissonant music sells Peron as a manipulative character, as ruthless as Stage-Eva herself in his quest for power. (This is also the song that first introduces Eva's political aspirations.) The film cuts this song (which is so conceptual that it would probably be more confusing than anything on film) and replaces it with a revised version of "The Lady's Got Potential," which acts as a quick history lecture to get us up to speed on Peron's career, as well as what Eva's been doing in the time skip. No more talk of pesticides. Now, "The Lady's Got Potential" tells us everything "The Art Of The Possible" did, and more. It even likens Peron to Mussolini. But it doesn't sell the point nearly as well. "The Art Of The Possible" shows Peron's character in action, set to unsettling music that highlights it. "The Lady's Got Potential" is all telling, not showing (and set to a serviceable but unremarkable catchy tune), and is thus weaker in establishing Peron's character. But, ironically, that cardinal sin of storytelling becomes a boon here, because by failing to drive in the negative aspects of Peron's character, it makes him more likeable. And then, when he teams up with Eva, it makes her more likeable by proxy. Which pays off for the movie later on.
The charity concert scene plays out more or less the same in both versions, up to the point where Eva kicks out Peron's former mistress. The Mistress would usually sing "Another Suitcase In Another Hall" here, but, as Film-Eva has already sang it, the movie simply has a short reprise of the chorus, which achieves the same effect.
"Another Suitcase" is an important turning point for Eva, and it's the point where Che begins to turn on her in the lyrics. Up to this point, the only people Eva's thrown under the bus (mostly Magaldi) are jerks of a higher status than her who deserved to be thrown under the bus, and ergo, we root for her, as does Che. (Note: In addition to the aforementioned "Goodnight And Thank You" lyrics, in the first post-funeral scene, all of Che's indignation and ire is directed not at Eva, but at Magaldi.) But with "Another Suitcase," now Eva is the character with higher status, and the person she's throwing under the bus is much worse off than her. So now she's becoming the bad guy. In the stage show, this is solely a moment of reflection for the audience, not for Eva. The movie, by giving Eva the first instance of the song earlier, makes the reprise land as a real moment of hypocrisy for Eva.
On a large scale, most of everything from "Peron's Latest Flame" through the midpoint of Act II is the same on both stage and film. But there are some various cuts and tweaks that add up. Most notably in "A New Argentina," which in the film begins with Peron being arrested in an attempt to stifle his political career. This, of course, makes Peron the underdog for the rest of the song. Likewise, some lyrics (such as the verse about electoral fraud) are cut, and the bits where Peron fantasizes about a low-key domestic life are played up. All of this serving to make Peron seem like a much nicer character, and Eva more ruthless by comparison. This is arguably the one moment where Film-Eva is more ruthless than Stage-Eva, because Stage-Eva is more of an equal partner with Peron at this point, whereas Film-Eva stands much more on her own, with Peron being a puppet. But it does not change Eva's character significantly, and I still think that the softer version of Peron does overall make Eva more sympathetic by proxy.
Now we skip to the sequence in Act II of "Santa Evita," "Waltz For Eva And Che," and "She Is A Diamond." In the stage show, in this order. The movie bumps "She Is A Diamond" up to before those other two songs, and while I don't think it gives that specific song new meaning, it does allow the next scene to flow much more smoothly on film. At the end of "Santa Evita," Eva collapses from her illness, and, in the movie, the Waltz is explicitly a dream sequence. (Stage show is a bit more vague.) By having "She Is A Diamong" earlier, the movie can simply have Eva wake up at this point, and "Dice Are Rolling" can play out in her hospital room. "Dice Are Rolling" is likewise cut to just barely a few lines to practically forget about the political aspect of the plot and focus solely on Eva as a character.
In the stage show, Eva's character development at this moment is her coming to terms with her mortality. She has been unstoppable up to this point, and now she suddenly isn't. In the movie, her development is a little different, and hinges on the song written exclusively for the movie, "You Must Love Me."
In the new song, Eva grapples with her relationship to Peron. A relationship which originated out of mutual political advantage, and now Eva is unsure about. She questions why Peron still seems to care about her now that she's no longer useful, and tries to prove that she still can be. The title of the song contains a double meaning, as she pleads for Peron to actually love her because she has no one else, and she questions why Peron is acting as he is, and concluding that, yes, he must actually love her. Eva has gone so long basing all of her interactions on political gain, and, back in the "Another Suitcase/Good Night" sequence, the movie made this the central point of her character. Not her relentless ambition, to which "Dice Are Rolling" is the capstone in the stage show, but her struggle with human connection, to which "You Must Love Me" is the capstone.
The final events of both film and stage show are the same. Eva dies, but her death has two different impacts. The stage show is a cautionary tale about the rise and fall of populist regimes based on a cult of personality. The movie is the tragedy of a person seeking human connection in all the wrong places (hence her desire to be loved by the masses) and finally dying once she finds it. Both are strong stories, and both are vastly different, despite having basically the same events happen in them. I honestly can't say which I prefer. Both are powerful, both are effective, both are well-executed in their respective formats.
Since then, it has become commonplace for "You Must Love Me" to be inserted into stage productions. This hadn't really bothered me until fairly recently, because, being familiar with both versions of the show, when listening to hybridized recordings such as the 2013 revival, I subconsciously filled in the character blanks in my head, and automatically switched gears between the versions when it was necessary to do so. But I recently realized on a conscious level that "You Must Love Me" really shouldn't work in the stage show, because it was written for an entirely different treatment of the character.
When diretor Sammi Cannold announced that it was her goal to make Eva a more human and sympathetic character in the production she directed for New York City Center (currently playing at the time of this post), I was initially cautious, because I know that Film-Eva manages to be both those things, but only manages it because the text was substantially changed for the movie, and there was no indication that those same changes would be made for Cannold's production. I didn't see how a film-like treatment of Eva could work using the stage show's text.
The advertised conceipt of Cannold's production was the casting of two actresses as Eva. One (Maia Reficco) who would play her through most of "Buenos Aires," and a second (Solea Pfeiffer) who would take over from the last verse of "Buenos Aires," after which Young Eva would appear periodically as a sort of ghost. The effectiveness of the device was mixed. I thought early on that the obvious thing to do would be to have "Another Suitcase" be sung by the actress playing Young Eva, which would highlight the turning point of the song much in the same way the movie did, for Eva's benefit rather than the audience's. This turned out not to be the case, but something to that effect was still achieved by having Young Eva present on stage during the song, and having both Evas sing the harmonies on the refrain, rather than Che and some random ensemble members.
But more broadly, Cannold managed to defy both familiar versions of Evita by focusing on an entirely different aspect of the text: Eva's continued rejection at the hands of the upper class (for having lower-class origins) and the goverment and military (for being a woman). This was always present in all versions of the show, but in Cannold's vision, it is the central focus. Eva is motivated not by internalized ambition, but by a desire to prove everyone wrong about her.
This came into full force in the second act. My favorite moment in Evita has always been the lead-in to "Rainbow High," where she sings: "I don't think I really need the reasons why I won't succeed. I have done." ("I have done" was later changed to "I haven't started", which is easier to parse, but doesn't quite convey the same meaning. The movie softens the awkwardness of the phrase by changing it to "Then again I've more to do than simply get the message through. I haven't started." Which has a more consistent meaning and is easier to parse, but lacks the punch of the original. Whatever.)
This moment comes right after the song "High Flying Adored," Che brings focus to the fact that Eva has won. She's achieved her Cinderella story, and any other musical would be over at this point. So what happens now? And in both stage and film, Eva's response is "Rainbow High." She's going to keep going. This is her full turn to the bad side of insatiable ambition, which, in the stage show, is innate to her, and in the film, is what she's tricked herself into thinking she needs to be happy. In both cases, this is the moment she officially loses Che, however, as her cult of personality has carried her too far away from the general population, to which she continues to pay lip service while doing nothing (according to Che) of any actual substance.
In Cannold's version, however, this moment failed to make an impact. It, and "Rainbow High" which followed, were surprisingly underwhelming. It was then unclear where the director was going with this.
A coup was pulled subsequently, though, as Eva's turning point now occurs right after "Rainbow Tour," where Eva, after all she's accomplished, is still rejected by the upper classes, including the King of England. (Solea Pfeiffer's rendition of that recitative was the highlight of her performances.) "The Chorus Girl Hasn't Learned The Lines You'd Like To Hear" is played with quiet rage as, after all Eva's done to be accepted by high society, this snub is the last straw, and now this is the moment she turns to the bad side of insatiable ambition. The delay of this moment makes the final scenes catapult into each other with great momentum, but at the expense of rendering the first half of the act lackluster.
Sammi Cannold's production of Evita has all the things I look for in a great re-interpretation-based revival. A unique, well-thought-out reading that is supported by the existing text, and highlights different aspects of it than have been highlighted before. Cannold's direction actually evokes Hal Prince's in a way, with a similar black box concept that manages to convey a cinematic feel without actually having too many set pieces. The staging of "A New Argentina" was striking and economical, with Eva's political prominence visually increasing in each verse. The twenty-four piece orchestra, lead by leading Lloyd Webber conductor Kristen Blodgette, made the score sound as thrilling as it ever has. The choreography, by Emily Maltby and Valeria Solomonoff, seamlessly integrated into the storytelling and kept the scenes moving at a brisk pace. (Evita is actually a surprisingly short musical when you consider that Andrew Lloyd Webber is not known for brevity.)
Neither Prince, nor Parker, nor Cannold has a monopoly on interpretation, and all three readings of the material are equally strong and equally valid. It is a testament to the material itself that it supports so many readings, with none of them feeling overburdened or overshadowed by the others.
Now if Tim Rice could rewrite the refrain of the Waltz so that it actually made any amount of grammatical sense, that would be great.
The reasons why people don't like movie adaptations of popular musicals can be subtle and complicated, and a well-known case in point has been made by Lindsay Ellis' analysis of Joel Schumacher's adaptation of The Phantom Of The Opera. In her analysis, Ellis points to elements of framing, changes to the material, and the subtleties of cinematography that make Phantom an exceptionally weak adaptation of incredibly strong musical. But when you ask the average person what went wrong with the Phantom movie, the answer you usually get is "Gerard Butler can't sing."
And this is a pattern with a lot of movie musicals. The changes can be numerous and subtle, but the ones that people tend to notice up-front are "they cast movie stars who can't sing," and "they changed things in adaptation, which is, by definition bad." Chicago seems to be the only major movie adaptation of a popular musical that has escaped both these criticisms, despite seemingly inviting them blatantly. For even though Catherine Zeta-Jones and Renée Zellweger were cast instead of Broadway actresses with musical theater experience, both of them proved to have the vocal chops for the role, as well as, it goes without saying, the acting ability. And even though much of the text was changed from the stage show, it was done in the service of making the overall story of the musical work on film. Chicago, as written by Kander, Ebb, and Fosse, leans heavily on theatrical devices that would be confusing at best, and unsettling at worst, when put on screen, and so Rob Marshall replaces them with a new set of filmic devices that achieve the same ultimate effect in the new medium. Chicago as a movie understands that film and theater have different strengths, and telling the same story in both media demands different approaches. In some ways, the differences between the movie and the stage show don't even register, because the movie is so confident in its new mode of storytelling that you don't even think to compare the two.
Evita does tend to attract the star-casting critism, but beyond that is in some ways the inverse of Chicago. Andrew Lloyd Webber's musicals are famously cinematic in scope, and Evita is no exception. (In both Evita and The Phantom Of The Opera, director Hal Prince managed to famously trick the audience into thinking the productions were less minimalist than they really were. A black box concept allowed for the film-like flow between scenes, but Prince managed to fill the space in a way which felt more involved than it actually was.) The sort of film style used for the movie seems practically intuitive given the way the show is written. Changes made to the text seemed to either be for the sake of giving Madonna, the star, more to do (though a famously difficult role, Eva can do as much singing as she likes when she's not constrained by having to sing it live multiple times a week), or else minor line changes and small cuts to get the run time down and make Tim Rice's infamously pun-filled lyrics a bit easier to parse.
But I submit that, despite trying to seem like an adaptation that keeps the same basic core of the musical it's adapting, the changes made in to Evita add up to something that is not only dramatically satisfying, but fundamentally different from what is presented in the stage show. Whereas Chicago tells you up front that it is wildly different from the stage production, and then surprises you by hitting the same points with equal ease, Evita tricks you into thinking that you are getting essentially a filmed version of the stage show while actually delivering a subtly, but substantially different interpretation of the material. Hence fans of the musical being disappointed without really being able to pin down why, beyond "Madonna had to have 'A New Argentina' transposed down." (And, for the record, I've heard enough high-belting Evas by now that I'll take the oft-missed low notes any day.)
So I'm going to do what I did with Bounce and Road Show a few months ago, and outline some of the changes, and how they affect the dramaturgy of the piece.
Bob Gunton and Patti LuPone in Evita
Both Stage and Film start the same way. With the news of Eva's death, and a scene of her funeral, which is interrupted by Che, our narrator. Now, Che has continually been a point of confusion throughout Evita's history. Specifically, is he Che Guevara or not? Tim Rice has given conflicting answers. In the original concept album, some of the text is drawn from Che Guevara, most notably in the song "The Lady's Got Potential," in which Peron's rise to power is described in parallel with Che's developing a new bug spray. Though this event was drawn from the history of the real Che Guevara, it came across as random and confusing in the context of Evita, and so at Hal Prince's urging, the song was cut. But Prince liked the idea of having Che Guevara as the narrator, and in the original production, the character was costumed as such. As best I can tell, the movie was the first version of Evita to drop Guevara entirely and make Che more of an "everyman." Everyman-Che has since become more commonplace, and, frankly, the main benefit of that is that it's less confusing. Eva Peron already comes with so much political baggage, there's no need to add Che Guevara to the pile.
Notably, Che's first song, "Oh What A Circus," contains a verse in which he describes himself. "And who am I who dares to keep his head held high while millions weep?" The movie, when it made Che an everyman, cut this verse. Since Che is no longer Guevara, there's no need for him to introduce himself to the audience or for us to wonder why he's there. Annoyingly, subsequent productions of Evita that have gone the everyman route with the character have still kept this verse, which is now superfluous, and, worse, rhymes "saw" with "four," which even in a non-rhotic accent is painful.
The movie and stage show then proceed in much the same way for the first scene, differing only in some minor lyric tweaks up until Eva arrives in Buenos Aires. In the stage show, the song "Goodnight And Thank You" occurs, but in the movie, Eva gets to sing "Another Suitcase In Another Hall" first. And this is the first major change to Eva's character. In the stage show, Eva is a force of nature unto herself, ruthlessly barreling forward no matter what, and never showing any sign of weakness. It makes her thrilling to watch on stage, but not very relatable. In the film, by giving Eva a song here where she's allowed to be vulnerable, she is able to garner real sympathy early on. Now she is no longer ruthless by her own innate nature, but, in the one-two punch of "Another Suitcase" and "Goodnight And Thank You," she becomes ruthless because she has to be for survival. This makes her more human, which is neither good nor bad in and of itself. Again, Force-Of-Nature Eva is a magnetic character. Human Eva is more relatable, and thus likeable in a completely different way.
Small lyric changes are made to "Good Night And Thank You" in order for it to make sense coming after "Another Suitcase." Notably, some of the pronouns Che uses change as well. In the original song, Che refers to himself and Eva using a collective "we" in this song. Eg, "If we've missed anything, you could give us a ring, but we don't always answer the phone." At this point in the story, Che is on Eva's side, because she's part of the lower class of whom he is a representative, and he approves of her manipulating and conning the people in power. The film, by changing these lyrics, does serve to distance Che from Eva, but, as with giving her "Another Suitcase," emphasizes her being alone -- and remember that Force-Of-Nature Eva is alone because she can be. Human Eva is alone because she has to be.
At this point, the musical proceeds with "The Art Of The Possible," introducing the character of Juan Peron in a game of musical chairs as he sings his opportunistic political philosophy. The dissonant music sells Peron as a manipulative character, as ruthless as Stage-Eva herself in his quest for power. (This is also the song that first introduces Eva's political aspirations.) The film cuts this song (which is so conceptual that it would probably be more confusing than anything on film) and replaces it with a revised version of "The Lady's Got Potential," which acts as a quick history lecture to get us up to speed on Peron's career, as well as what Eva's been doing in the time skip. No more talk of pesticides. Now, "The Lady's Got Potential" tells us everything "The Art Of The Possible" did, and more. It even likens Peron to Mussolini. But it doesn't sell the point nearly as well. "The Art Of The Possible" shows Peron's character in action, set to unsettling music that highlights it. "The Lady's Got Potential" is all telling, not showing (and set to a serviceable but unremarkable catchy tune), and is thus weaker in establishing Peron's character. But, ironically, that cardinal sin of storytelling becomes a boon here, because by failing to drive in the negative aspects of Peron's character, it makes him more likeable. And then, when he teams up with Eva, it makes her more likeable by proxy. Which pays off for the movie later on.
The charity concert scene plays out more or less the same in both versions, up to the point where Eva kicks out Peron's former mistress. The Mistress would usually sing "Another Suitcase In Another Hall" here, but, as Film-Eva has already sang it, the movie simply has a short reprise of the chorus, which achieves the same effect.
"Another Suitcase" is an important turning point for Eva, and it's the point where Che begins to turn on her in the lyrics. Up to this point, the only people Eva's thrown under the bus (mostly Magaldi) are jerks of a higher status than her who deserved to be thrown under the bus, and ergo, we root for her, as does Che. (Note: In addition to the aforementioned "Goodnight And Thank You" lyrics, in the first post-funeral scene, all of Che's indignation and ire is directed not at Eva, but at Magaldi.) But with "Another Suitcase," now Eva is the character with higher status, and the person she's throwing under the bus is much worse off than her. So now she's becoming the bad guy. In the stage show, this is solely a moment of reflection for the audience, not for Eva. The movie, by giving Eva the first instance of the song earlier, makes the reprise land as a real moment of hypocrisy for Eva.
On a large scale, most of everything from "Peron's Latest Flame" through the midpoint of Act II is the same on both stage and film. But there are some various cuts and tweaks that add up. Most notably in "A New Argentina," which in the film begins with Peron being arrested in an attempt to stifle his political career. This, of course, makes Peron the underdog for the rest of the song. Likewise, some lyrics (such as the verse about electoral fraud) are cut, and the bits where Peron fantasizes about a low-key domestic life are played up. All of this serving to make Peron seem like a much nicer character, and Eva more ruthless by comparison. This is arguably the one moment where Film-Eva is more ruthless than Stage-Eva, because Stage-Eva is more of an equal partner with Peron at this point, whereas Film-Eva stands much more on her own, with Peron being a puppet. But it does not change Eva's character significantly, and I still think that the softer version of Peron does overall make Eva more sympathetic by proxy.
Now we skip to the sequence in Act II of "Santa Evita," "Waltz For Eva And Che," and "She Is A Diamond." In the stage show, in this order. The movie bumps "She Is A Diamond" up to before those other two songs, and while I don't think it gives that specific song new meaning, it does allow the next scene to flow much more smoothly on film. At the end of "Santa Evita," Eva collapses from her illness, and, in the movie, the Waltz is explicitly a dream sequence. (Stage show is a bit more vague.) By having "She Is A Diamong" earlier, the movie can simply have Eva wake up at this point, and "Dice Are Rolling" can play out in her hospital room. "Dice Are Rolling" is likewise cut to just barely a few lines to practically forget about the political aspect of the plot and focus solely on Eva as a character.
In the stage show, Eva's character development at this moment is her coming to terms with her mortality. She has been unstoppable up to this point, and now she suddenly isn't. In the movie, her development is a little different, and hinges on the song written exclusively for the movie, "You Must Love Me."
In the new song, Eva grapples with her relationship to Peron. A relationship which originated out of mutual political advantage, and now Eva is unsure about. She questions why Peron still seems to care about her now that she's no longer useful, and tries to prove that she still can be. The title of the song contains a double meaning, as she pleads for Peron to actually love her because she has no one else, and she questions why Peron is acting as he is, and concluding that, yes, he must actually love her. Eva has gone so long basing all of her interactions on political gain, and, back in the "Another Suitcase/Good Night" sequence, the movie made this the central point of her character. Not her relentless ambition, to which "Dice Are Rolling" is the capstone in the stage show, but her struggle with human connection, to which "You Must Love Me" is the capstone.
The final events of both film and stage show are the same. Eva dies, but her death has two different impacts. The stage show is a cautionary tale about the rise and fall of populist regimes based on a cult of personality. The movie is the tragedy of a person seeking human connection in all the wrong places (hence her desire to be loved by the masses) and finally dying once she finds it. Both are strong stories, and both are vastly different, despite having basically the same events happen in them. I honestly can't say which I prefer. Both are powerful, both are effective, both are well-executed in their respective formats.
Since then, it has become commonplace for "You Must Love Me" to be inserted into stage productions. This hadn't really bothered me until fairly recently, because, being familiar with both versions of the show, when listening to hybridized recordings such as the 2013 revival, I subconsciously filled in the character blanks in my head, and automatically switched gears between the versions when it was necessary to do so. But I recently realized on a conscious level that "You Must Love Me" really shouldn't work in the stage show, because it was written for an entirely different treatment of the character.
When diretor Sammi Cannold announced that it was her goal to make Eva a more human and sympathetic character in the production she directed for New York City Center (currently playing at the time of this post), I was initially cautious, because I know that Film-Eva manages to be both those things, but only manages it because the text was substantially changed for the movie, and there was no indication that those same changes would be made for Cannold's production. I didn't see how a film-like treatment of Eva could work using the stage show's text.
The advertised conceipt of Cannold's production was the casting of two actresses as Eva. One (Maia Reficco) who would play her through most of "Buenos Aires," and a second (Solea Pfeiffer) who would take over from the last verse of "Buenos Aires," after which Young Eva would appear periodically as a sort of ghost. The effectiveness of the device was mixed. I thought early on that the obvious thing to do would be to have "Another Suitcase" be sung by the actress playing Young Eva, which would highlight the turning point of the song much in the same way the movie did, for Eva's benefit rather than the audience's. This turned out not to be the case, but something to that effect was still achieved by having Young Eva present on stage during the song, and having both Evas sing the harmonies on the refrain, rather than Che and some random ensemble members.
But more broadly, Cannold managed to defy both familiar versions of Evita by focusing on an entirely different aspect of the text: Eva's continued rejection at the hands of the upper class (for having lower-class origins) and the goverment and military (for being a woman). This was always present in all versions of the show, but in Cannold's vision, it is the central focus. Eva is motivated not by internalized ambition, but by a desire to prove everyone wrong about her.
This came into full force in the second act. My favorite moment in Evita has always been the lead-in to "Rainbow High," where she sings: "I don't think I really need the reasons why I won't succeed. I have done." ("I have done" was later changed to "I haven't started", which is easier to parse, but doesn't quite convey the same meaning. The movie softens the awkwardness of the phrase by changing it to "Then again I've more to do than simply get the message through. I haven't started." Which has a more consistent meaning and is easier to parse, but lacks the punch of the original. Whatever.)
This moment comes right after the song "High Flying Adored," Che brings focus to the fact that Eva has won. She's achieved her Cinderella story, and any other musical would be over at this point. So what happens now? And in both stage and film, Eva's response is "Rainbow High." She's going to keep going. This is her full turn to the bad side of insatiable ambition, which, in the stage show, is innate to her, and in the film, is what she's tricked herself into thinking she needs to be happy. In both cases, this is the moment she officially loses Che, however, as her cult of personality has carried her too far away from the general population, to which she continues to pay lip service while doing nothing (according to Che) of any actual substance.
In Cannold's version, however, this moment failed to make an impact. It, and "Rainbow High" which followed, were surprisingly underwhelming. It was then unclear where the director was going with this.
A coup was pulled subsequently, though, as Eva's turning point now occurs right after "Rainbow Tour," where Eva, after all she's accomplished, is still rejected by the upper classes, including the King of England. (Solea Pfeiffer's rendition of that recitative was the highlight of her performances.) "The Chorus Girl Hasn't Learned The Lines You'd Like To Hear" is played with quiet rage as, after all Eva's done to be accepted by high society, this snub is the last straw, and now this is the moment she turns to the bad side of insatiable ambition. The delay of this moment makes the final scenes catapult into each other with great momentum, but at the expense of rendering the first half of the act lackluster.
Sammi Cannold's production of Evita has all the things I look for in a great re-interpretation-based revival. A unique, well-thought-out reading that is supported by the existing text, and highlights different aspects of it than have been highlighted before. Cannold's direction actually evokes Hal Prince's in a way, with a similar black box concept that manages to convey a cinematic feel without actually having too many set pieces. The staging of "A New Argentina" was striking and economical, with Eva's political prominence visually increasing in each verse. The twenty-four piece orchestra, lead by leading Lloyd Webber conductor Kristen Blodgette, made the score sound as thrilling as it ever has. The choreography, by Emily Maltby and Valeria Solomonoff, seamlessly integrated into the storytelling and kept the scenes moving at a brisk pace. (Evita is actually a surprisingly short musical when you consider that Andrew Lloyd Webber is not known for brevity.)
Neither Prince, nor Parker, nor Cannold has a monopoly on interpretation, and all three readings of the material are equally strong and equally valid. It is a testament to the material itself that it supports so many readings, with none of them feeling overburdened or overshadowed by the others.
Now if Tim Rice could rewrite the refrain of the Waltz so that it actually made any amount of grammatical sense, that would be great.
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