7th April 2026
Curve, Leicester
‘Good times are
coming our way […]
Viva la revolucion!’
It is perhaps no surprise that few
have tried to mount new productions of Kander and Ebb’s Kiss of the Spider
Woman. A musical adaptation of Manuel Puig’s 1976 postmodern labyrinthine
novel covering themes of sexuality, gender, politics and state torture – all cut
through the lens of Hollywood fantasy – is a tough sell. Yet, done right, it is
a richly rewarding venture, juxtaposing glamour and grime, frivolity and fascism,
all bound by an unlikely love story that is both intimate and expansive. Paul
Foster’s production (the first major revival since premiering in the early 90’s)
is a modest affair, small in scale, but offering a new angle on the narrative
that uses the intimacy of Curve’s studio space to emphasise the claustrophobic
setting of the Argentinian prison cell.
Political prisoner Valentin (George
Blagden) is thrown in a cell with the whimsical Molina (Fabian Soto Pacheco),
who is in the middle of serving a sentence for ‘corrupting a minor’. In pairing
these disparate characters, the warden hopes that Molina will convince Valentin
to give up his secrets and reveal the plans of his revolutionary comrades. Initially
antagonistic, the duo slowly bond through shared suffering (beatings,
poisonings, sleep deprivation), small acts of kindness, and Molina’s retelling
of the films of his glamourous movie-star heroine, Aurora (Anna-Jane Casey).
While by no means Kander and Ebb’s
most memorable score, there is a pleasant mix of latin-infused up-tempo numbers
(‘Where You Are’, ‘Let’s Make Love’), tender ballads (‘Dear One’, ‘You Could
Never Shame Me’), and rousing crescendos (‘Day After That’). Terrence McNally’s
book does a commendable job of condensing Puig’s novel, and while some things
suffer slightly in translation – for example the ambiguous, dream-like ending created
by Puig is some of the most achingly beautiful prose; not to mention the
intertextuality offered by Puig’s extensive use of footnotes on everything from
Freud, to Marxism, and gender identity – McNally and co’s creation of a central
figure (Aurora/The Spider Woman) to encompass all of Molina’s hopes, fears,
desires and memories is ingenious. This personification makes up for the loss
of the majority of the movie narratives from the source material. Instead, we
have dazzling song and dance numbers from Aurora which offer glittering
commentary on real-life scenarios. A particular highlight features Molina and Valentin
playing supporting roles in Aurora’s film Flame of St. Petersburg, which
slickly foreshadows the show’s denouement.
David Woodward makes the most of
Curve’s small studio space with a two-tier set of scaffold, cell bars and metal
grating, evoking the brutal, grey reality of prison life under fascist regime.
This allows Andrzej Goulding’s video projections to shine, transporting us to another
world through flickering reels, movie title cards and intense close ups of
Aurora’s face. As I mentioned previously, Foster has made the most of this small
scale production to highlight the intimacies of the text. As such, the central
performances are faultless, and being up close and personal allows the audience
to see every nuanced motion. Anna-Jane Casey proves herself again to be a
triple-threat juggernaut, belting out note perfect numbers while performing
high-energy routines without breaking a sweat. Casey relishes her dual role,
hamming it up as the melodramatic Aurora in her many starring roles, while
transforming into a genuinely creepy presence as the titular Spider Woman, the
personification of death itself. George Blagden’s Valentin is strong and
grounded, masculine without being overbearing, and his soaring tenor voice
lends itself perfectly to the chill-inducing call-to-arms, ‘Day After That’.
Rounding off the central trio, Fabian Soto Pacheco gives a star-making turn as
the tragic Molina. Pacheco uses his whole being in bringing Luis to life; every
placed hand and every arched eyebrow giving us an insight into the character.
He is flamboyant, sympathetic, at times frustrating, and utterly memorable. The
main cast are supported by a small yet flawless ensemble, who all get their moment
to impress. In short, Foster’s production is well worth a visit for the indefatigable
performances alone, which are on a par with some of the best I’ve seen.
Kiss of the Spider Woman is
an extraordinary tale in all its variations and while I can see it may not be
to everyone’s taste, at heart it is a tale about love and hope in its many
forms. Familial love, romantic love, sexual love, patriotic love, radical love,
artistic love. The narrative is dark and brutal, yet during the finale, when
Molina sings of ‘optimistic endings’ this is only ironic on a superficial
level. What the audience has just witnessed is definitely not ‘optimistic’, yet
Puig and McNally’s message is one of hope, no matter how small the glimmer –
where there is love, where there is passion, there is hope. The very act of
changing, as our protagonists do over the course of the show, is in itself an
act of hope, in spite of, or maybe because of our hero’s final sacrificial
act. This chamber piece production is somewhat of a hidden gem, which thoroughly
deserves a wider audience.
Kiss of the Spider Woman
plays at Curve, Leicester until 25th April before playing at the
Bristol Old Vic from 29th April – 16th May, and the
Southampton MAST Mayflower Studios from 2nd – 6th June.
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| Fabian Soto Pacheco, Anna-Jane Casey and George Blagden in Kiss of the Spider Woman Credit: Marc Brenner |
