Don't cry for Madonna, America.
At least not yet anyway - Madonna's gigantic and risky career move known as "Evita" is a beautifully sung, skillfully acted, gorgeously shot and adroitly directed film. "Evita" strikes a phenomenally grand pose, but it is still far from the best picture of the year.
Electing style over substance, "Evita" sidesteps its inherent subject matter of political unrest and the dangers of excessive power with lavish production numbers and catchy turn-of-phrase. It creates an easy-to-swallow, toe-tapping, heart-breaking, hip-shaking, tear-jerking, undeniably fun extended music video telling the story of Maria Eva Duarte de Peron, the beloved saint / whore of Argentina.
OK, so it's not all fun. The film begins with the announcement of Eva Peron's death from cancer at the age of 33, exploding into a 15 minute whirlwind of sorrow.
Up to this point, the audience is fine, getting into the groove, so to speak, of this tragic tale - that is, until a happy little guitar ditty begins and identity shifting, opinion-changing narrator Ché (Antonio Banderas), avoiding the funeral at a bar, turns directly to the camera and sings, "Oh what a circus, oh what a show ... ."
After the initial shock of the unreality of this musical, Ché endears himself to the audience as he sets up the story behind Argentina's love / hate relationship with its favorite actress-turned-first-lady.
Was she a saint? Was she a self-serving, power-hungry vixen who slept her way into the hearts and pants of nearly everyone in Argentina?
In this completely sung extravaganza, answers to pressing, substantial questions are hard to come by - as soon as you notice an ambiguity or discrepancy, the film provides you with another catchy tune to defer you from thinking, which is detrimental for a drama but expected in a musical.
Never losing its hedonistic momentum, the film depicts, sublimely, if episodically and abstractly, a young, confident Eva beginning a new life in the big city ("Buenos Aires"); her declaration of uncertainty ("Another Suitcase in Another Hall"); her unlike-a-virgin years ("Goodnight and Thank You"); her relationship with Juan Peron (Jonathan Pryce) in "I'd Be Surprisingly Good For You"; Peron's rise to the presidency ("A New Argentina"); and Eva's reassurance of her disapproving constituents ("Don't Cry For Me, Argentina").
Slowing down only briefly in the second half, the breakneck pace is maintained by accounts of Eva's European tour, her battles with the upper class, her flagrant philanthropy, her campaign for the vice presidency and her proposed exaltation to sainthood, which marks the beginning of the end of the saga of Evita.
By the time the music, and thus Eva, dies, the audience has come to know and love the three principle characters through stellar songs. The audience has been treated to an amazing, dynamic spectacle that truly deserves the rivers of tears and the thunderous applause it receives.
Emotions and ovations aside, there is still something wrong with "Evita," other than cancer, that is.
Don't blame Madonna - her performance is like a prayer - exhilarating at best, satisfying at worst and always engaging. She did everything that was necessary to successfully emulate Eva Peron, including making the viewer forget all those years of Boy Toys, "Sex," that gold tooth and Dennis Rodman.
Don't blame Antonio Banderas, he's Oscar-worthy as the sarcastic, insightful, omnipotent conscience of the nation. His flair for the musical, especially in the up-yours-mister anthem "Goodnight and Thank You," injects a huge dose of adrenaline into any already caffeinated movie.
Don't blame the capable, almost pointless, forehead-implanted Jonathan Pryce. After all, the film is not called "Juan."
Don't blame the stellar production team - Alan Parker's vigorous, yet gentle direction, Gerry Hambling's astounding MTV-on-speed editing, or Penny Rose's splendid, sophisticated costume design are all much-needed assets.
Blame Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice's original music and lyrics, with guitar riffs, lame rhymes, and bland Latin flavor that now seem dated and generic. With little cinematic appeal and even less character development, the sometimes insipid soundtrack still makes an enjoyable singing biography. After all, Hollywood musicals are not exactly the hallmark of significance.
Great performances, outstanding production, and sweeping yet imperfect soundtrack aside, what, exactly, is the film's opinion of its biographical subject, Eva Peron?
Instead of revealing any clear opinions, "Evita" revels in its own ambiguity, keeping Eva as enigmatic as possible, allowing viewers to form their ideologies of Evita, and thus Madonna, independently.
Whatever your opinion of the two pop icons, forgo your wild days and your mad existence, please keep your promise, and don't keep your distance from Madonna's triumph, "Evita."
Jonathan Pryce waves to the crowd as Madonna smiles.