EVITA is thrilling and tantalising. Thrilling because it takes one of the most dramatic stories in 20th-century politics, and sets it on the stage with huge style and chutzpah. The tremendous rags-to-riches tale of Eva Duarte, the prostitute-turned-a
ctress who becomes the driving force behind Argentina's left-wing dictator, Juan Perón, inspires a strong, simple series of theatrical tableaux, a powerful score and half a dozen of Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber's finest songs, focused on the relationship between politics and personality, celebrity and democracy.
It is tantalising because it falls in love with its own personality cult. Despite the promising presence as narrator of the Argentine-born revolutionary Che Guevara, it never really dramatises the political gulf between Perón's dream of an authoritarian welfare state, and Guevara's grass-roots socialism; and finally dwindles into a three-hankie weepie about Eva's early death from cancer.
Whatever its strengths and weaknesses, this remarkable show certainly receives full value from this glamorous, good-looking and beautifully sung Bill Kenwright touring production. Graced with a powerful free-flowing design by Matthew Wright, gorgeous lighting by Mark Howett, and superb choreography by Bill Deamer, the show is driven by two formidable performances in Seamus Cullen's intelligent and sweet-voiced Che, and Louise Dearman's breathtakingly poised and forceful Evita. And whatever you make of the second-act development of the story, there's nothing to match the thrill of that mighty theatrical moment when the girl from the backstreets feels her own fate mesh with that of her nation; and just for a moment, truly embodies the dreams of the people, rather than simply exploiting and betraying them.
