EVITA

The London Palladium

★★★★

“an enjoyably bold twist on a classic”

In a theatre landscape overrun by the contemporary glitz of Six, & Juliet and yet another adaptation of an early 2000s chick-flick – it’s a big ask to dazzle audiences with a seventies relic telling the tale of an Argentine political powerhouse, but Jamie Lloyd’s new production of Evita certainly gives it a good go.

From the off it almost feels as if you could be sitting in NYC watching the recent Sunset Boulevard: this is classic Lloyd. We’re talking sparse stage, bleak colours and characters refusing to look each other in the eye. But despite the harsh initial impression it leaves, this production of Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s classic musical packs a mighty punch and certainly pushes the boat out for what we’ve come to love and expect of the usually colourful, safe Lloyd Webber shows.

Just in case you’ve managed to dodge the plot for the past fifty years, Evita follows the story of Eva Peron, an Argentine political leader and second wife to former president Juan Peron. We follow Eva from her days of ambitious youth in the slums of Argentina to her remarkable ascension to power and fame, and finally through to her untimely demise. Rachel Zegler takes on the role of Eva with fierce, soaring vocals that bring a desperately needed new lease of life to this score. The American actress exudes seemingly endless energy as she struts, gyrates and bops her way around the stage (choreography by Fabian Aloise). Indeed, Zegler barely has a moment to catch her breath (as emphasised by Diego Andres Rodriguez, who plays Che, sneaking her water bottle onstage mid dance break) and is present for Eva’s entire journey. Despite her youth, Zegler plays the two decades span of Eva’s life with clarity and grace; often reminding us that Eva herself was only thirty-three years old when she passed away from cervical cancer. However, one can’t help but wish Zegler would step outside of her box a little more and really take the bull by the horns: a little less prettiness and a little more grit would been welcome.

Throughout Lloyd’s updated production one can really tell they are watching a show made for 2025. Some of the modernisms work beautifully (groovy drum solos during Dangerous Jade and the ensemble twerking to Eva, Beware of the City; I’m looking at you) and some of them really miss the mark: the Camp Rock style E-V-I-T-A chant implanted into Rainbow High implants the audience in entirely the wrong atmosphere.

A much-anticipated stand out moment of the show was of course Zegler’s Don’t Cry For Me Argentina delivered live from an outside balcony thanks to the help of some handy camerawork. For those of us inside the theatre, it really felt as if Eva was becoming untouchable as she rose power; no longer a tangible entity for us to hold. Either that or she was out with her Descamisados in the street and we, the elite, were not privy to her love stuck inside our bejewelled theatre boxes. Either way the FOMO was real.

The plight of the Descamisados (‘without shirts’ in Spanish which is quite literal for Rodriguez in this production) has never been more clearly shown than with the brutal visuals of Che; bloodied, battered and cowering on the floor, cruelly doused in paint in the colours of the country he adores. Rodriguez brings a charismatic charm to the role which matches the sass of Zegler perfectly. Indeed, the pair have beautiful chemistry, playfully flirting their way through the score in an effort to make Eva’s rise and Che’s fall all the more heartbreaking and impactful.

The design elements of the show (Soutra Gilmour set and costume, Jon Clark lighting and Adam Fisher sound) take a while to get going. One feels, much like Eva’s own story, that the show peaks in the middle, with the bookends being a little sluggish and dull. While Zegler prances around mostly in a bralette and shorts (not what you typically expect of Eva Peron), the ensemble costumes seem to grow to match the acquisition of Eva’s wealth. There’s a nice touch towards the end of act one as the ensemble emerge dressed identically to the two Perons: a people united in reflecting their leaders.

The real standout song of the show is The Art of the Possible. Traditionally a moment devoted to the hyper-masculine, military ensemble, Llyod has reimagined this moment as a beautiful reminder of the power Eva held. While still sung by men, the song is led by a female ensemble member who, whilst dressed to the nines in a pseudo military get up, exudes power and sultriness as she guides each female assassin standing behind the soldiers in their executions. Deaths that come in the package of a popped balloon (or not popped in the case of one poor ensemble member) and Argentinian blue confetti.

We are happily appeased by the traditional image we crave of Eva Person – the jewels, the gown, the blonde hair – though Zegler’s stark stripping of these elements as we watch through the camera lens is yet another reminder that this is a show that’s fighting back against our desires. Still, the act one finale gives us the grandiose we yearn for: more confetti canons than you’ve seen in your life and elated ensemble vocals drowning out a bloodied, broken Che. In fact, the ensemble excel throughout and seamlessly fill the stage with their flowing, coordinated movements, though one does feel these start to get samey pretty quickly. The ending, much like the beginning, is stark, modern, and just a little uninteresting given the heights we’ve seen this show reach before. Despite a few teething problems (a very noisy backdrop that insisted on being lowered during quiet songs and the ensemble’s lack of ability to coordinate their consonant placement) this production holds real power and is a clear reminder of the harsh, cruel reality of Evita’s story.

While the highlighted elements of elected power versus the power of the people are certainly relevant to today’s bleak political landscape, the show lacks the overall gritty punch of a call to arms. But whether this is the most needed piece of theatre right now or not, it’s certainly an entertaining night out and an enjoyably bold twist on a classic.

EVITA

The London Palladium

Reviewed by Kathryn McQueen

Photography by Marc Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

QUEEN BY CANDLENIGHT | ★★★★ | April 2025

FIGARO: AN ORIGINAL MUSICAL | ★★ | February 2025

HELLO, DOLLY! | ★★★★ | July 2024

THE ADDAMS FAMILY A MUSICAL COMEDY – LIVE IN CONCERT | ★½ | February 2024

TRUE TALES OF SEX, SUCCESS AND SEX AND THE CITY | ★★★½ | February 2024

DEATH NOTE – THE MUSICAL IN CONCERT | ★★★★ | August 2023

EVITA

★★★★★

“a gem of a production”

Eugene O’Neill’s last play, A Moon For The Misbegotten, is now playing at the Almeida Theatre. With an outstanding cast that includes Michael Shannon, David Threlfall and Ruth Wilson, and direction by Rebecca Frecknall, don’t miss an opportunity to see it, if you can get a ticket. The play does require stamina, like a lot of O’Neill’s work. But if you’re up for the challenge, get ready to experience a profound catharsis, watching the playwright exorcise his family’s ghosts in the sequel to Long Day’s Journey Into Night.

In the semi-autobiographical earlier play, we watch O’Neill explore his family’s legacy. In James Tyrone, he creates the figure of his father, one of the most successful actors in the United States. James’ wife Mary is the tragic figure hooked on drugs prescribed by an unscrupulous doctor. Mother to two boys, the elder Jamie is a pale shadow of his parents. He wants to follow in his father’s footsteps, but lacks his talent. Both men, however, have a talent for drinking alcohol. When O’Neill picks up Jamie’s story in A Moon For The Misbegotten many years later, he shows us a Jamie lost in grieving his mother’s death, and still trying to emulate his father’s success. But O’Neill doesn’t bring us to the sea haunted house of the earlier play, but to a hard scrabble tenant farm where Phil Hogan and his children scratch out a living among their wealthier neighbours. Phil is a blustering patriarch who also likes alcohol. He drives his children so relentlessly that, one by one, they leave the farm and go to seek their fortunes elsewhere. At the start of the play, his daughter Josie, a lot like her father, is nevertheless helping her youngest brother to escape. Mike accepts his sister’s help, all the while moralizing about her reputation with the local men. He suggests she try to entrap Jamie Tyrone in marriage. Josie and Jamie have long felt a fondness for each other. Jamie could be her ticket off the farm and away from their father, if she plays her cards right.

Sounds simple, right? Except that part of O’Neill’s genius as a playwright, is to present us with complex characters who see how to escape their inexorable fates, yet struggle with all their might to remain exactly as they are. (In real life, O’Neill’s family had better luck.) In Josie Hogan and Jamie Tyrone, we have two characters who can only grant each other absolution, rather than the love they desperately desire. In this production of A Moon For The Misbegotten, Rebecca Frecknall focuses on the seeking of these two. It is brought into sharp focus by an expressionistic lighting (Jack Knowles) that captures both the passing of the day into night, and the steady orb of the misbegotten moon. The farmhouse (set design Tom Soutt) has already crumbled to a cluster of planks and a solitary pillar, holding up a vanished porch. The music (NYX) and sound design (Peter Rice) reinforce the sense of a place that echoes a long, slow dissolution.

The actors have a rich environment in which to perform. Josie (Ruth Wilson) and her father Phil (David Threlfall) bluster and beat at each other, goading each other on. When Jamie Tyrone (Michael Shannon) arrives, it is to beg Josie to give up the role of the coarse woman of loose morals, and be the lover he wants her to be. Watching Threlfall, Wilson and Shannon work the angles of these complex characters is like watching poetry in motion. They find the rough lyricism of O’Neill’s words. They play the drama while keeping the audience sympathetic to these messed up individuals. If there is one incongruity, it is that Ruth Wilson is a much slighter version of the junoesque goddess O’Neill had in mind for Josie. When Jamie refers to her exuberant beauty we are very aware that Michael Shannon towers over her, when it should probably be the other way around.

But Wilson captures Josie’s spirit perfectly, and Shannon, as Jamie, spends a lot of his time wrapped around her, trying to resist the twin demons of alcohol and desire. Frecknall wisely focuses on punctuating the language of A Moon For The Misbegotten with physicality. Otherwise a modern audience might be overwhelmed by the words. Just as compelling is David Threlfall’s performance as Phil. As the rough Connecticut farmer, he bullies and wheedles, shouts and demands, but makes us believe he genuinely cares for Josie, and wants her to escape just as much as she does. Wilson and Threlfall delight in the multifaceted relationship of this father-daughter pairing, and the audience feeds off their energy. It’s essential, too, because the long scenes between Jamie and Josie are a slower burn—another long day’s journey into night, and the vivid dawn that follows. Michael Shannon is pitch perfect as Jamie. He shows us the source of Jamie’s pain, and takes us through the exorcism that follows. But it’s Wilson’s moment to pronounce absolution on her lover, and let him go.

This is a gem of a production, and it has award winning performances from the three main characters. You will want to see it at the Almeida, or hope it transfers.

Tag Archives: Marc Brenner

EVITA

★★★★

The London Palladium

EVITA

The London Palladium

★★★★

“an enjoyably bold twist on a classic”