#FEATURE | Revelry, regimes, and reprises
By Keira Go, Elisha Marasigan, Mara Remonte, and Marsh Ramos
“Is it a sin to love too much? / Is it a sin to care? / I do it all for you”
- Imelda Marcos, Here Lies Love
Lights fade up on the enigmatic figure of a First Lady, who swore she did everything for love. Her songs resonate through the theatre, narrating her dreams and ambitions. This character, an iconic yet controversial historical figure, takes the spotlight in a Broadway musical.
This is the premise of Here Lies Love, a show about the life of Imelda Marcos. With its star-studded cast, renowned staging, and immersive theater experience, it promises to be a hit.
Yet, as the story unfolds, one can’t help but draw parallels to another hit musical, Evita, which delves into the life of Argentine First Lady Eva Perón, another controversial figure. Today, some see her as an advocate for marginalized groups while others see her as a symbol of an authoritarian regime. It’s as if history is repeating itself on the stage of Broadway. However, the repeat of history also means the repeat of past mistakes — mistakes that extend outside the stage and into reality, where there are dangerous consequences.
These two shows open the curtains to the worlds where discos dabble with dictatorships, where charisma crosses with corruption, and where riches are reaped from robbery — the worlds of Imelda Marcos and Eva Perón.
Spotlight on the First Ladies
Here Lies Love, composed by David Bryne and Fatboy Slim, is a concept album–turned-musical that brings the narrative of Imelda Marcos’s life to mainstream American audiences, from her humble beginnings to her political prominence and eventual downfall during the People Power Revolution. The show features an immersive disco-pop experience, with a set design that pulls the audience into the narrative: one that is more close-knit and interactive than traditional theatre staging and that imitates a dance floor.
The star of the show and center of much debate, Imelda Romualdez Marcos, was born into the rich Romualdez political dynasty in 1929 — although her upbringing did not reflect this. According to Carmen Navarro Pedrosa in her book The Rise and Fall of Imelda Marcos (1987), due to a series of events culminating in her mother’s death, she and her family grew up relatively poor in Leyte.
She was considered the most beautiful girl of her town and was known as the “Rose of Tacloban.” However, from a young age, she dreamed of a life in the upper class.
To realize this dream, she moved to Manila. There, she met the congressman Ferdinand E. Marcos, whom she married within only 11 days of meeting.
Soon after, Ferdinand Marcos campaigned to become the President of the Philippines, with his newly-wedded wife Imelda by his side. With the power their union brought, he won the 1965 elections, and the rest is a very bloody and infamous history.
Across the Pacific Ocean, Evita showcases the life of Eva Perón, the wife of Argentine dictator Juan Perón, from her rise to stardom until her death. The musical focuses on how she used her profound influence to climb the social and political ladder.
The book and lyrics were written by Tim Rice, while Andrew Lloyd Webber composed the music. On the 25th of September 1979, the show opened on Broadway and ran for more than 1,500 shows.
Evita’s heroine, Maria Eva Duarte de Perón — known by her married name, Eva Perón — “had every disadvantage” ever since she was born. Born an illegitimate child in 1919, she was only a year old when her father abandoned his family. From there, she grew up in poverty before running away from home to pursue a career in acting.
She became a successful actress and even founded a union of broadcast performers called the Argentine Radio Syndicate. Then, she married Colonel Juan Perón, a government official, who would later become the President of Argentina.
Until her last breath, Eva stood by her husband’s side, supporting his every endeavor — from social reforms to ruthless suppression.
From background actor to star of the show
Both born during times of hardship, Imelda Marcos and Eva Perón had ambitions to rise beyond the circumstances they were born into, and they did, with Eva becoming an actress and Imelda becoming the “Muse of Manila.”
But these achievements were not enough for them — they wanted more.
Despite marrying rich, ambitious men, these ladies did not stand and watch idly by as their husbands ran for presidency.
\With their charm and beauty, they essentially drove their husbands’ campaigns. Both women were already politically influential before, but that influence was only furthered when their husbands won the elections, and they became the First Ladies of their countries.
They soon became known for their vanity and extravagance, throwing massive parties and wearing millions of dollars worth of dresses, shoes, and jewelry — all while their citizens lived in poverty and hunger.
Exit the people, enter the leading ladies
From its very beginning, Evita sets up its main point: to expose the actions (or inaction) of Eva Perón. Further into the musical, the problems arising under the Peróns’ rule grow evident.
Che, who takes on the role of a working-class citizen, begins to critique the Perón administration on their failures and negligence. The ugly truth reared its head; gold reserves declined, and opposition speakers were silenced. In all her glitter and glamor, Eva Perón died with the Argentine people mourning her. However, these people would be enlightened as the consequences of the Perón dictatorship become apparent.
“Who am I who dares to keep his head held high?” were the words Che sang at the start of Evita, establishing himself as the representation of the people of Argentina. He represents the bystanders, then the supporters of the Peróns, and eventually, their critics. He gave the audience a perspective of those who lived under Perón’s dictatorship and how their opinion swayed over time.
Meanwhile, in Here Lies Love, Benigno Aquino Jr. rallies the audience to “rise, rise, rise up” against the growing discord in their country, yet the musical only barely scratches the surface of the Marcoses’ crimes. Preferring to focus on the interpersonal relationships and inner turmoil of Imelda, the musical on the First Lady of the Philippines glazes over the “Philippines” part.
While broadly covering Martial Law in one number, the musical does not cover Imelda’s infamous shoe collection bought using government funds aside from a coy reference in the title song, nor does it delve into the Manila Film Center disaster, where Imelda was at fault.
Not to mention, one of the turning points of the musical — portrayed as the worst thing Ferdinand Marcos did — was not his injustices against the people, but against Imelda: his infidelity.
Could several minutes of show tunes truly capture the years of Filipino suffering under Martial Law? In Here Lies Love, it appears so.
The song “Order 1081” presents, perhaps even satirizes, the Filipinos’ mindset in the wake of Martial Law. It resonates with the narratives of today, where peaceful nights and safe streets were possible back then, suggesting that, for some, the declaration of Martial Law was perceived as a positive turn of events.
The musical’s finale, “God Draws Straight,” appears to rush toward the “end and downfall of the Marcoses.” Here, the ensemble takes centerstage, delivering a ballad that encapsulates the narrative of a citizen’s story during the People Power Revolution. This song serves as a beacon of hope and unwavering faith, a testament to the Filipino spirit.
While opposition leader Benigno Aquino Jr. was embodied in the play, he was disconnected from the people with his status and personal connections with the First Lady.
Yet, can the entire production truly capture the Filipino experience with just a brief glimpse of their perspectives? Is it possible to depict both sides of Imelda Marcos’s story without giving voice to those profoundly affected by her actions? These questions linger as the show’s curtains close and await its next performance.
The show without a closing act
There is something to be said about how both musicals were written by people who did not live in the countries that were impacted by the actions of their star characters: we are letting other people tell stories about Argentina and the Philippines which are not theirs to tell. These are stories that need to be told with accuracy and sensitivity in order to do justice to the people that had to live through these experiences.
Musicals have clean ends, finales, and curtain calls, but unlike musicals, the effects of the Marcos dictatorship still linger.
Today, we still face almost the same corruption, suppression of voices, and inaction that plagued our nation decades ago. While parties for the elite persist, our people endure hardships. Press freedom is curtailed, and journalists are still under attack. Institutions suffer from budget cuts even as confidential funds soar.
The Marcos family remains in power, and their administration compounds both old and new problems.
Our story has yet to reach its curtain call, and so our voices must never cease.
