Should we applaud dictators? No, not Charlie Chaplin’s magnificent 1940 anti-war political satire, but true dictators, such as for example Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos. That’s the question I asked myself as I entered the completely redesigned Broadway Theater’s interior to see “Here Lies Love.” The transformation by set designer David Korins takes the 1924 former movie palace – which became a legitimate Broadway theater in the 1960s – and gutted everything I remember about it from recent shows such as “King Kong” and “The Little Prince.”
The theater – one of Broadway’s largest at 1,800 seats – was reduced down to approximately 800 seats, with standing room for 300 more in the former orchestra section that those audience members must share with a 42” (107 cm) -sized disco ball done up in somewhat of a Studio 54 motif in the center, transforming the former orchestra section to Club Millennium, a – you guessed it – disco.
As wannabee club kids (that would be the audience) enter, the DJ (Moses Villarama) gets the party going with music and the Imelda Marcos motif. Why her? David Byrne explains.
“Some years ago, I read some books about the courts of people in power,” he told the Guardian in 2007. “They behave in an artificial, theatrical manner. They have rules that have nothing to do with the real world. Then I read about Imelda Marcos and her going to Studio 54, and converting the roof of the palace in Manila to a disco. I thought, ‘Maybe this is a way in for me, maybe that music is an expression of what having that kind of power feels like.’ Not that people in a club after a few hours of dancing go, ‘Off with his head!’ But there is this heady feeling, and there may be some connections there.”
The cast of “Here Lies Love”
From there, Byrne went on to compose his “Here Lies Love” opera, which he presented in 2007 in concert form at Carnegie Hall, and which eventually became the musical of the same name that had an extended run at the Public Theater in 2013 and returned for an open-ended run again in 2014.
The show – set against the backdrop of the life of former First Lady Imelda Marcos and her meteoric rise to power – clearly captivated the audience but, while it does try, it falls to fully convey the ruthlessness of the character and her husband, the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos. “Here Lies Love” – which is reportedly the first lady’s desired epitaph on her gravestone (she is still alive at the age of 94 as of this writing and her son, Bongbong Marcos, is the current president of the Philippines) – barely touches on the widespread corruption and state-sponsored killings that defined the later years of the Marcos regime.
The pair stole billions of pesos from the Filipino people, thereby amassing a fortune that was estimated by the U.S. Department of State to be between $5 and $10 billion. The first lady’s notoriety for a lavish lifestyle, throwing extravagant parties and going on extended shopping sprees was illustrated by what was found after the Marcoses left Malacañang Palace in the People Power Revolution of 1986. The media eagerly reported her lavish wardrobe, said to have included 15 mink coats, 508 gowns, 888 handbags, and 3,000 pairs of shoes.
But back to the DJ.
The DJ tells the club kids to enjoy the party as they watch a reenactment of the life of Imelda Marcos. The ensemble enters, singing “American Troglodyte,” a song about the excess wealth demonstrated by Americans, and, conversely, how some may find that display to be desirable.
The DJ (Moses Villarama) takes a bow
This being a disco, David Byrne had planned to use recorded music instead of a live band. However, in June of this year, after the musicians’ union raised objections, the show agreed to use 12 musicians and they rocked.
Director Alex Timbers has deliberately cast the audience – in particular the 300 club kids on the orchestra level – as extras. They aren’t just club kids partying at Club Millennium, they – and the guests at higher levels – are guests at the wedding of Ferdinand and Imelda, they attend political rallies, witness the assassination of Benigno Aquino Jr., and, finally, they participate in the People Power Revolution of 1986 that temporarily showed the Marcoses the door.
The songs by David Byrne and Fatboy Slim are performed by an energetic and seemingly inspired all-Filipino cast and you’ll be dancing at your seat or in the disco even if it’s involuntary.
Another historical note, which I suppose a good part of the audience was ignorant of: The Philippine Islands became a Spanish colony during the 16th century and they were ceded to the United States in 1898 following the Spanish-American War. They became a self-governing commonwealth in 1935 and fell under Japanese occupation in 1942 during the Second World War. On July 4, 1946, the Republic of the Philippines attained its independence.
Imelda (Arielle Jacobs) was born in San Miguel, Manila in a wealthy family but the family’s fortunes turned and she grew up living a far simpler life in Tacloban, where her first beau was Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. (a rather self-assured Conrad Ricamora), who later became a politician and senator as well as the leader of the opposition to the Marcos regime. Meanwhile, she became a beauty queen, won a scholarship to study music, and moved to Manila, where she met Ferdinand Marcos (portrayed by a a glowering Jose Llana).
Somewhat problematically, “Here Lies Love” steers clear of any moral judgments as well as any mention of the shoes. While I thoroughly enjoyed the musical tour through the somewhat debauched life of the former Filipino first family, I applauded only half-heartedly and left feeling as if I had just seen a play about Pinocchio that omitted any reference of his nose.
The Marcos’ 21-year destructive reign was a pivotal point in Filipino history and human rights groups report that tens of thousands of people were imprisoned, tortured or killed for perceived or real criticism of the government. In 2020, when Marcos Jr. was preparing to run for president of the country, he made clear a desire to revise textbooks that documented his parent’s corrupt and brutal regime. The show was clearly the first time many audience members had heard of the Marcoses, let alone the Marcos’ corrupt regime so my feeling of partial emptiness may be due to my educational background as an historian.
Nonetheless, one thing was apparent from the very beginning: Imelda would have loved the over-the-top atmosphere of Club Millennium, its garishly bright lighting by Justin Townsend, the fluttering projections by Peter Nigrini, and most of all the deafening thunderous sound by M.I. Dogg and Cody Spencer (although in theater mode, my Apple Watch nonetheless silently notified me multiple times that sound levels in my environment could result in long-term hearing loss).
THE DETAILS
Here Lies Love
Broadway Theater
1681 Broadway
New York, N.Y. 10019
Running time: 90 minutes (no interval)
www.herelieslovebroadway.com
(Photos: Accura Media Group)
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