by Leigh Witchel
Ballet Hispánico took no chances when commissioning a full length work, picking something that ticked several boxes. Female choreographer, familiar female subject, also Hispanic. Check, check, check. Annabelle Lopez Ochoa also has a track record with the company, if someone could have pulled off something interesting, it was her. “Doña Perón” did benefit from Ochoa’s professionalism, the evening was tight and soundly constructed.
The piece began with Eva Perón, played by Dandara Veiga, with her back to us. She was elevated above the stage in a blinding circle of lights, doing the iconic Evita pose with both arms raised. Clothed in a voluminous white skirt of parachute silk, it turned out she was standing on someone, who slowly lowered her.
The crowd, the descamisados, surrounded her, waving white handkerchiefs. Appropriately, the men were shirtless, and looked good shirtless. The group went into an energetic dance in unison, but that monolithic mass made sense. They represented a faceless crowd.
As always Ochoa knows her theater. The action moved quickly, and was clear even without reading the synopsis. She understood a stage picture and made sure to deliver an eyeful.
Eva stood and rotated to reel her skirt in, which echoed Jessica Lang’s well-known solo, “The Calling (Splendid Isolation II).” Like this, most of the evening’s effects were not particularly unique, but used effectively.
The explanation of her character, the rejected illegitimate daughter, was shown by a young Evita, and was done with the broadest and most familiar brush possible. The corps took off Eva’s jacket and dress to leave her in a slip; the child double was in the same outfit. We met the family; the father threw her aside. The psychology was very armchair.
The score by Peter Salem used bandoneon music; every now and again there was a tango, and Ochoa used some partnering (including a male couple) suggestive of it. She also laid on the foreshadowing of Eva’s early death: There was a parallel to “La Traviata,” only Perón wasn’t coughing, just grabbing her side.
And so she headed to Buenos Aires, where she met a bunch of men in sleeveless shirts. She danced with one and then the next, trading up, gaining another trinket or accessory. The acrobatic partnering echoed MacMillan’s “Manon,” but in a moment of time travel, the men used phone cameras to take pictures.
Eva danced with military men in stylized sleeveless tunics, until one man entered with sleeves, so we knew he was important: it was Juan Perón (Chris Bloom). Young Evita showed up and Adult Eva sent her packing.
The Peróns became a couple, dancing a long duet with the other men as background. The rest of the show chronicled their climb, a series of more elegant outfits, and incidents: on the radio, his imprisonment. We plowed through an abbreviated version of their history, without learning much about who they were.
The descamisados stomped and clapped a rhythmic dance. They started to shout “Perón!” He was released. Eva grabbed her side again, and each had another costume change; he added a sash, she changed into a gaudier dress. In one of the few moments where the darker side of the Peróns was shown, the military muzzled reporters then did a Nazi salute before dragging them off.
Eva, in worse stomach pain, collapsed and the doctors arrived. Perón put a diamond choker on her for a tango. At least she didn’t clutch her belly. For a ballroom scene scene she changed into heels onstage (one of the few lumpy transitions in a smoothly paced show) only to be rejected by high society. And like clockwork, little Evita appeared for another moment of armchair psychology.
The crowd began a clapping dance and the shirtless masses now wore kilts. Eva gave them boots, which became another stomping dance for them – a better example of how organic Ochoa’s work could be. Eva was raised high, and predictably, collapsed.
She exited, and returned wearing the massive skirt from the opening, racing round with it trailing behind her. The crowd returned and we were back at the opening tableau. Ochoa ended with an arresting final image: Eva was raised up into her skirt, which swallowed her followers, then as it collapsed like a souffle, began to swallow her. She slowly disappeared into it, arms waving. It may be recycled tanztheater, but it was recycled effectively.
When you’re talking about Eva Perón, is an evening of effective competence enough? No, especially because there’s already a better-known work out there that this one is modeled on. “Doña Perón” may not be “Evita” without the songs, but Ochoa chose to do the same thing: a survey of her life.
The same major biographical episodes were covered and Ochoa’s take on Evita isn’t that different than “Evita,” with one serious handicap: Eva in “Doña Perón” doesn’t speak or sing. We’re used to Eva being embodied by Patti Lupone or Madonna. That’s stiff competition. Veiga had a strong, focused presence, but she wasn’t larger-than-life.
“Doña Perón” didn’t say anything new about Eva, and didn’t deviate all that much from the character we know from “Evita.” It would take either brilliant solos for her (on the level of the musical’s songs) or the dance equivalent of Lupone in the lead role. And perhaps something uglier than a bio-ballet can do. Does Eva Perón need another treatment that, even as it puts her under the microscope again, treats her as a star? One of the lessons of both the past and the present should be that politicians whose main virtue is popularity are the ones we should be handling with the gloves off.
copyright ©2022 by Leigh Witchel
“Doña Perón” – Ballet Hispánico
New York City Center, New York, NY
April 1, 2022
Cover: Dandara Veiga in “Doña Perón.” Photo credit © Paula Lobo.
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