What with a Broadway revival currently playing at full force (producing a complete cast album to boot) and the recent 15th Anniversary Edition Blu-Ray of the 1997 film adaptation, Evita is very big news once again...not an accomplishment every 36 year old musical can achieve.
When Hal Prince's production debuted in London in 1978, it was met with critical derision but audiences loved it. They had never seen a musical of this kind before; one that was told in episodic segments and which made no attempt to stage each sequence naturally. At all times, one was keenly aware he or she was viewing a show. Not everyone may realize this, but the innovative staging that Prince brought to the production owes a debt of gratitude to German playwright Bertholt Brecht (1898-1956), without whom Evita may have turned out quite differently.
Bertolt Brecht’s contribution to theatre provided innovations that reformed a revolutionary style of performance. Although he was not the first to utilize such ideas, he was the first to synchronize them into such an effective and collective whole. His use of the verfremdungseffekt to create a greater distance between the performance and the audience was particularly important to him, “a distance which, ideally, would allow [the audience] to objectively contemplate and consider the events of the play and the nature of the characters". Although Webber and Rice’s intention may not have been completely in line with his purpose, Evita is arguably a type of neo-Brechtian Epic Opera.
Brecht’s use of the verfremdungseffekt, often translated as the ‘alienation effect’, is frequently misunderstood. Author Michael Patterson argues that a better translation is ‘estrangement’ because “’alienation’ too often suggests a deliberate intention to thwart the enjoyment of the audience” (The Revolution in German Theatre: 1900-1933, 159). In Brecht’s own words: “[alienating] an incident or character means simply to remove from the incident or character all that is taken for granted…to generate surprise and curiosity about them” (160). If a character or incident has no spontaneity, therefore, the audience has no need to question what has just happened. Predictability must be downplayed in order to achieve a proper emotional and questioning reaction.
While the actions of the characters must raise questions, however, the stagings of Brecht’s works were meant to be seen for exactly what they were: plays, not an illusion of real life. He disagreed with the concept of traditional “Aristotelian drama” that had the audience “identify with the characters and accept their fate rather than calling it into question…” (Gerould, 445). To counter the traditional dramatic view, Brecht tended to set his works in the past rather than present to help emphasize that the audience was seeing a deliberate re-creation of something that has already occurred, not an illusion of something happening in the present. Audience members could then ponder how such actions were relevant to their current social and political environment. Of particular note, Brecht utilized this approach in Mutter Courage und Ihre Kinder (Mother Courage and Her Children), written in 1939 but set during the 30 years war of 1618-48. As he stated, “The performance…possesses the quality of repetition. The incident has happened, now it is being repeated” (Patterson, 171). This element of obvious re-creation was further emphasized by making no attempt to completely disguise the transitions between scenes: “Don’t show him too much / But show him something! And let him be aware / That you are not magicians, but / Workers, my friends” (163-4).
In keeping with the non-realistic staging, Brecht also stressed the importance of his actors being “demonstrators” who were re-enacting these events rather than actually experiencing them. He expressed that an actor “must not allow himself to be completely transformed into the person he demonstrates” (171). Having certain characters break the fourth wall and address the audience directly, as well as “demonstrate” in a stylized manner by incorporating his idea of the Gestus, further elaborated on the story-telling aspect of his Epic Theatre.
In addition to straight plays, Brecht spoke of the possibility of music to enhance the work. Considering opera relies on underscoring and singing, such factors immediately denounce realism and proclaim theatricality. Therefore, it is natural that Brecht saw possibility to achieving his Epic Theatre goals through the operatic medium. He felt it should differ from the more traditional dramatic opera in that “Words, music and setting must become more independent from one another” rather than each working together equally (Gerould, 450). The music must tell the story by putting forth the text rather than serving it, and should serve more as an attitude compliment than psychological background. As with his view of theatre in general, Brecht saw opera as a chance to move beyond an instrument of mere pleasure “into an object of instruction… [converting] certain institutions from places of entertainment into organs of mass communication” (Gerould, 453). Opera could then have the same kind of effect as Epic Theatre, perhaps an even stronger one. Little could Brecht have imagined that, 20 years after his death, the worlds of Epic Theatre, opera and pop-music would make an unlikely collision thanks to Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice.
To be fair, all musicals are Brechtian to an extent: the act of bursting into song is very theatrical and does not allude to realism at all. However, many musicals sweep audiences away into fantasy, and the characters are often comedic, likeable and relatable, and prompt only applause and laughter rather than questions. Such characters of traditional musical comedy seldom have the complexity and perplexity of a Biblical figure or a seductive political icon. Two of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s earliest works each tell the story of two such legendary figures: Jesus Christ and Eva Perón. While both shows are similar in that they are episodic and entirely sung-through, Evita is arguably more neo-Brechtian than Jesus Christ Superstar.
Even if Superstar does make the audience question Jesus Christ and the actions of Judas, Jesus Christ is a far more universally known figure than Perón, and many people feel no need or desire to question him at all. Even though there are exceptions, to many he is simply the Messiah; a figure to be worshipped rather than doubted. Eva Perón is another matter. When considering the similarities between Argentina’s capital, Buenos Aires, and their home city of London, Webber and Rice saw “in the story of a charismatic populist who clawed her way to power by manipulating the trade unions…the presence of a cautionary tale” (Michael Walsh, 97). The fact that they were dealing with a powerful and somewhat frightening protagonist was emphasized when Rice told Webber, “I know you think she’s a bitch, but make her wonderful” (97). It was not their intention to create a historical docudrama, but rather a satirical reassessment of her life. Brecht’s shadow was already looming over the production even before the score was composed, as Webber and Rice’s decision to take thsi approach suggested early on that this project would make audiences face the dangers of fascism.
Initially conceived and marketed as a double “concept” album in 1976 (as Jesus Christ Superstar had been), Evita displayed a number of Brechtian elements before even reaching the stage. The plot was told entirely through song, leaving no doubt that this was indeed a story being retold in a new manner. In fact, seeing how the show opens at Eva Perón’s funeral, audiences will know the ending of the piece from the start. The narrator, Che, who serves as the ironic and bitter commentator throughout the piece, sings directly to the audience most of the time and only seldom addresses other characters. In his opening number “Oh, What a Circus”, Che raises the question as to whom exactly this “Santa Evita” was, and why her death has caused so many to mourn. From its beginning, Evita makes the audience ask questions; even though they know Eva’s ultimate fate, they do not yet know how she got to where she was, and anticipate the arrival of the “demonstrators” to retell her life story through song.
When selected to stage the piece for the West End and Broadway, Harold Prince made decisions that emphasized many of the Brechtian elements the concept album displayed. A harsh, nearly constant lighting design illuminated the practically bare stage, with only essential props appearing when necessary. There was no scenery, which Brecht would have approved of because “such fairy-tale indifference to historical detail imposes a non-realistic style on the design” (Patterson, 164). Costumes were approached with a degree of realism, as in Brecht’s own works, and most of Eva Perón’s costumes were based on historical photographs.
Prince initially envisioned having “Evita played by three different actresses, each to reveal different facets of her nature” (Walsh, 100), but Webber and Rice disliked the idea. Since each song on the album could be interpreted as an individual scene, Prince decided an episodic stage format would be appropriate. Author Michael Walsh notes that “Prince was not a cerebral, what-is-my-motivation-for-this director; instead, he was interested in making stunning stage pictures” (100). In that regard, Prince succeeded. The songs in Evita not only encompass a broad range of musical styles, including rock, Latin, classical and jazz (helping to set attitude rather than character psychology, as with Brecht’s Epic Opera), they are often very independent of each other in terms of the scenes they represent, despite sharing several recurring musical passages. For the most part, there are significant narrative gaps between each number. Rather than disguise this, Prince embraced it.
In keeping with Brecht’s template, each number was performed in a very stylized and non-literal manner, a number of them very memorable and original. In “Buenos Aires”, a jubilant young Eva Duarte kicks up her heels alongside the eligible men about town to celebrate her arrival in the Big Apple, singing directly to the audience about her dreams and ambitions. In the following number, “Goodnight & Thank You”, Prince symbolizes Eva’s climbing of the social ladder by placing her in the middle of a large revolving door; each time the door rotates, Eva kicks out this week’s suitor and in walks the new one. With each rotation, Eva gains another piece of jewelry or trinket; a succinct and effective metaphor for her rising to the top thanks to seducing successful men. A similar approach was taken in the proceeding number, “The Art of the Possible”, showing Juan Perón’s rise through the military ranks in a sinister game of musical chairs. Perón is the last one left. “Buenos Aires” and “The Art of the Possible” are also two examples of scenes that involved projections, a technique that had been utilized by Brecht. In the former scene, archive footage of the real Buenos Aires was presented, while archive footage of the Argentine military was shown in the latter. Photographs of the real Juan and Eva were also displayed in the Act I finale, further emphasizing that the actors seen on stage were not intended to be taken as the real Juan and Eva.
In a true Brechtian nod, the show’s finale consisted of a montage of previous songs before the dead Eva addresses the crowd with her “Lament”. Eva’s lament originally included a second verse on the album that helped explain her inner motivations, a verse that was rewritten and given to Che in London and eliminated completely in New York. While this made her character more ambiguous, it also heightened the Brecht connection, as that second verse delved deeper into her psyche than Brecht cared for his actors to do. After all, the actors should only demonstrate their characters, not become them.
Prince also added touches of visual comedy to accompany Rice’s often biting and sardonic lyrics. Utilizing choreography by Larry Fuller, the aristocracy, a major factor standing in the way of Eva’s rise to power, are depicted as snobbish high-society folk who walk together in a straight line in various haughty poses: some with their hands held high bearing cigarette-holders, others wrinkling their noses in disdain. Critic Frank Rich even made note of this “phalanx of chorus people who seem to have stepped out of the ‘Ascot Gavotte’ number of My Fair Lady” (Walsh, 106). The army officers who were against Colonel Perón’s flaunting of his mistress moved stiffly back and forth in exaggerated marches. No matter how much the main characters were reduced to satirical caricatures, it was those who disagreed with them who were presented in the most cartoonish fashion.
Not all Brechtian elements that appeared on the concept album made it to the stage. The character of Che as presented on the album was described by Michael Walsh as “an amorphous, Brechtian Everyman” (100), but Prince chose to make him identifiable as the revolutionary Che Guevara, in order to have the dissenting voice come from an actual historical figure in order to broaden the perspective. A minor comedic subplot that Che had on the album about developing an insecticide, in keeping with Brecht’s usage of comedy to break up the main action, was deemed irrelevant and scrapped, despite prompting clever (albeit corny) lyrics such as: “If you’ve got six legs I ain’t doin’ you no favours!”. In addition to the subplot, Prince dispended with the rock number “The Lady’s Got Potential”, in which Che informs the audience about both Eva and Juan’s increasing fame shortly before their first meeting. Despite the Brechtian approach of ignoring the fourth wall and giving information directly to the audience, the lyrics did include a minor endorsement for the capitalist system that Brecht argued so fervently against in Mutter Courage und Ihre Kinder. By removing this number and lyrical reference, Prince unwittingly strengthened the show’s Brechtian ties. The number was replaced onstage by the aforementioned “The Art of the Possible”.
The initial reviews Evita received upon opening in London were mixed, and not only confirmed its Brechtian roots but also led to modifications that strengthened them even more. Reviewing the London production in anticipation of its forthcoming Broadway opening, Frank Rich found it “a cold, uninvolving show that does little to expand the traditional musical comedy format or our understanding of a bizarre historical figure" (Walsh, 105-6). Rich had obviously experienced a type of verfremdungseffekt; the show made him ask questions and ponder her motivations. Some critics wondered if the show was deliberately glamourizing fascism instead of warning against it due to what was considered a sympathetic, pro-Evita stance.
In answer to this, undoubtedly in hoping not to receive the same response in New York, Rice modified a few of the lyrics for the Broadway production to make Eva even less sympathetic. In one of her earliest scenes, trying to persuade tango singer Augustin Magaldi to take her away from her dreary home town to glamorous Buenos Aires, her bemoaning “Who could ever be fond of the back of beyond?” became the snarkier “Who could ever get kicks in the back of the sticks?”. Later in the same song, her declaration of “I only want variety of society” became the more ambitious and cunning “I only want variety, notoriety”. Towards the end of Act I, when Che questions Eva about her acting career and affair with Colonel Perón, Eva’s response, “Acting is limiting, the line’s not mine. That’s no help to the Argentine” became the more self-involved “Is that the extent of your interest in me? It shows how futile acting must be”. Eva’s more self-involved personality, coupled with actress Patti LuPone’s more biting portrayal compared to the one given by her spunky London predecessor, Elaine Paige, helped make her more of a fascinating enigma and less relatable. Indeed, the American cast as a whole gave more individual, stylized performances than their London counterparts, thus elevating the obvious theatricality of the piece to an even more Brechtian degree.
The reviews the Broadway production received were little different than those in London. John Simon also accused the show of glorifying fascism, finding it an “artfully produced monument to human indecency”, among other things:
It is perfectly useless to say that Evita is not held up for approbation; a protagonist who displays cunning, energy, wit and, above all, phenomenal success will always seduce the unthinking masses, whether they be shirtless Argentines or bedizened Broadwayites…I am not arguing of course, that anyone seeing Evita will rush out and do likewise, but I am saying that a show like this ends up glorifying a base opportunist and Fascist…how would [oppressed minorities] feel about a musical whose protagonist was Stalin, Hitler, or that other Eva, Braun – even assuming that the show would include a choric Mandelstam or fictionalized Einstein to berate that protagonist? (Walsh, 107-8)
By suggesting that audiences would not be inspired by Eva to follow in her footsteps, he is inadvertently suggesting an alternative Brechtian response: to fear glamorous, charismatic people with strong, personal agendas gaining power and manipulating the masses. If indeed audiences found themselves temporarily mesmerized by Eva’s power-hungry charm, only to see the negative results it produced, they would question not only Evita-like figures but also themselves, and could learn to desensitize themselves to her contemporaries in order to prevent such a government from happening again. The show’s original choreographer Larry Fuller, who mounted a touring production of Prince’s original staging in 1999, noted that "History repeats itself. Audiences will relate to the message that if you glamorize and package something in an attractive way - even fascism - you can sell it to the general public…people today have become distrustful of political figures, so I think the show now has a greater resonance” (Spindle, The Charms of “Evita”). In an age where government is indeed under close scrutiny from the public, people may not need an Evita to make them ask questions, but it does stand as a potent reminder of the past.
However Brechtian the show may be in its written form, it was Hal Prince’s staging that truly emphasized the connection. Michael Grandage’s London revival of 2006 (which transferred to New York in 2012), the first non-Prince staging to be professionally performed, de-emphasized many of Prince’s approaches. The episodic structure was made less obvious through more fluid, but nonetheless theatrical, transitions. The inclusion of “You Must Love Me”, written by Webber and Rice for the film as Eva’s admission of her impending death, strengthened her character realistically and made her more sympathetic. In addition, Eva’s second verse of the “Lament” was restored for the first time since the concept album, thereby creating a more developed character and less of an enigma. Appropriate enough for one striving for artistic realism, but not for Brecht. One notable change Grandage made that was more Brechtian than in Prince’s production was reconverting Che back into the amorphous Everyman he had been on the album (sans insecticide plot).
Although Bertolt Brecht may not have gotten the desired uprising out of his audiences, his works nonetheless prove that Epic Theatre is a perfect format for presenting major social and political concerns to audiences. As Mutter Courage und Ihre Kinder attempted to do with capitalism, Evita attempts to show the effects of fascist regimes and bitter personal agendas.
Historical accuracy is irrelevant. What does matter is the agenda driving the show and its intended effect on the audience. Although Webber and Rice surely did not intend audiences to race to the aid of other nations to overthrow such regimes, Evita nonetheless could make them fear such a regime ever taking over their own country. As history has proven, fear can provoke powerful reactions from those oppressed. If Brecht’s audience did not fear capitalism enough to take a powerful enough stand against it, Evita’s audience, and especially critics, proved themselves to fear fascism enough to never want to see it happen to them. If Evita helps prove anything to a theatrical audience, it’s that although such a narrow-minded political focus can bring you everlasting infamy, it nonetheless can provide devastating consequences to certain sects of populations and to their respective nations. It is here that Brecht’s idea succeeds, for if the problems of past and present are brought into the light for questioning, then perhaps people will learn to prevent them from affecting the future.
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