Glamor Girl

"AND THE MONEY kept rolling," in sings Che, the disenchanted revolutionary who narrates Evita, in describing the results of the former Argentinian First Lady's fundraising drive. But Che's lyrics also describe the success of the musical itself. After its 1978 London premier. Evita arrived on Broadway, where it swept the 1979-80 Tony Awards. Since then, road companies have opened in, among other places, Chicago, Los Angeles, Vienna, Madrid, Mexico City, South Africa, Australia and Japan. Reportedly, the yen continue to roll in as Evita finally begins its first Boston engagement.

The money rolls with reason Evita remains a wonderfully stylish, original and exciting show, its strengths overshadowing its weaknesses, though these are evident in the new production. The musical's lyrics offer a synopsis. Eva Duarte (Derin Altay) ("There was no place she'd been by the age of 15") prostitutes herself to get to Buenos Aires. ("There has never been a lover...who hasn't an eye on...tricks he can try on his partner.") After becoming a radio star, Eva meets Colonel Juan Peron (Robb Alton). ("I've heard so much about you.") With her advice and encouragement, he leads a workers' uprising ("The chains of the masses untied") that vaults him to the Argentinian presidency ("Peron! Peron!") Eva wins the love of her descamlsados (shirtless ones) and initiates a not solely charitable foundation ("Thank God for Switzerland.") Cancer-stricken, ("What I'd give for a hundred years"), Eva dies at 33, viewed by many as a saint ("She is a diamond.")

The lyric-based summary resembled Director Harold Prince's production in relying on superficial descriptions of major events. But Prince's technique ideally suits his purposes. As Eva Person manipulated the media and her people, so too does Evita direct the audience's attention from one newsworthy scene to another. Prince suspends a large screen above the stage onto which he projects news-reels and still photographs of Eva's activities: meetings with the Pope, France, and Argentinian peasants. The Life magazine technique creates excitement which allows the audience to observe the real Evita's magnetism and beauty while an equally captivating rock opera account of her life unfolds on stage.

LIKE PRINCE'S adaptation of Stephen Sondheim's Sweeney Todd, Evita relies upon an operatic chorus and contains little dialogue, placing a great burden on the voices of its stars. Derin Altay, who replaced Patti LuPone on Broadway, sings vibrantly. Waving her arms, confidently striding across the stage, she demands the audience's attention. She also displays a not-too-subtle wit, fashioning gestures more reminiscent of a Billy Martin-Reggie Jackson ballpark feud than an exchange between a First Lady and a cabinet official. But of course much of Eva's mystique results from such apparent contradictions--the earthiness and the bejeweled regality, the saintliness and the promiscuity.

Alton's Peron is a Machiavellian, if occasionally befuddled, politician. And R. Michael Baker's Che stands as a deserving counter-Force to Alstay's Evita. He's on stage almost throughout the show, jumping, running, kneeling--seldom content to stand silently as Evita becomes increasingly popular and disingenuous.

Like the recent television docudrama based on the life of Marilyn Monroe. Evita presents itself as newsreel-supported fact, leading to an occasional gap in credibility. While it seems reasonable to expect audiences to understand that some of Evita is fiction, for instance, the revolutionary narrator is superfluously identified as Che Guevara. As the program notes. "Che and Evita never met... when she was at the pinnacle of Argentine politics. Che was a student in medical school." Characters never even refer to Che by name. "I don't know why they didn't just call him Juan, or Roberto," Baker said in a press conference after the show, "instead of choosing someone controversial. Who is Che? What's he doing here?"

Tim Rice's libretto remains an uneven collection to of trite and witty lyrics. The better include a worried Person's lament. "Then again we might be foolish/Not to quit while we're ahead/ For distance leads enchantment and that is why/All exiles are distinguished/ More important they're not dead." And a phalanx of aristocrats admit. "No we wouldn't mind/ Seeing her in Harrod's/But behind the jewelry counter/ Not in front."

Other lyrics evoke laughter of a different nature, "Screw the middle classes!" Evita demands. Sometime thereafter, she sings, "Don't Cry For Me Argentina," whose introduction contains the cliche-ridden lyric. "You wouldn't believe it/ Coming from a girl you once knew/ Although she dressed up to the nines/ At sixes and sevens with you." An otherwise wonderful "High Flying Adored" includes this unusual rhyme; "I'm their savior. That's a what they call me/ So Lauren Bacall me." Fortunately, though, the last lyrics are overshadowed by stage action as Evita rushes back and forth, gradually transforming herself from a slip-clad frump to a Dior stunner.

ALTHOUGH USUALLY striking, the musical's extravagant production occasionally works to its disadvantage. More than once, the slides appear at the wrong time, and the film's projector din seems better suited for a driver's education classroom than a Shubert theater. Because of so many microphones, whenever the high-stepping military chorus marches downstage the theater echoes unpleasantly. Even more disconcerting is the mikes' tendency to make songs should like a cast album on a stereo, further distancing the audience. "All our subtleties are gone," star Altay said after a show.

For now, though, Boston theatergoers will have to resign themselves to a somewhat imperfect theatrical experience, a small price to play for seeing the show here at all. Several minor performances, especially Jill Geddes' as Peron's former mistress, rival those of the leads. Above all else, Webber's consistently haunting and melodic score makes an Evita ticket a worthy investment.

With this month's opening of Cate in New York, Webber now has three shows on Broadway (Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcont is the third). Each rolls onstage to packed houses, each rolls off leaving a wealthier producer. Perhaps the Harvard Corporation could convince Midas-touch Webber to compose a ditty of two for the University's fund-raising drive, though Derekim sounds too much like a banana to succeed anywhere outside Cambridge.