Theater Review

Chita Rivera stars in the truly unmissable 'Kiss'

By Nicole Campos
Staff Writer

Within a brutal prison in an unnamed Latin American nation, two very different inmates are united in a web of fear, love, and dreams. Twenty years ago, Manuel Puig's novel "El Beso de la Mujer Araa" gave birth to this unique premise and almost 10 years later, director Hector Babenco's film version of "Kiss of the Spider Woman" garnered critical acclaim and William Hurt an Academy Award for best actor.
1993 saw the Broadway premiere of a musical version of "Kiss," directed by the multi-award winning Harold Prince ("Show Boat" and "The Phantom of the Opera," to name just two) and written by Terence McNally, who just last year took the Tony for best play with his "Love! Valor! Compassion!" With the legendary Chita Rivera in the title role, the show took its less-than-typical story to greatness, winning seven Tonys, including Best Musical, Actor and Actress.
Now Los Angeles can finally see for itself what the buzz is all about, as the national touring production of "Kiss" has arrived at the Music Center's Ahmanson Theatre for a limited engagement through April 21. Rivera reprises her New York performance, and for a city sorely lacking in theater with the depth and quality of Broadway, this powerful musical is, in a word, unmissable.
At the center of the play is Luis Molina (Juan Chioran)--a sweet-natured window dresser behind bars for a "sexual offense"; he receives the lion's share of ridicule for his open homosexuality. We meet Molina as he is joined in his cell by the hard-headed Valentin Paz (Dorian Harewood), imprisoned for subversive activities and fiercely dedicated to an ongoing leftist revolution.
As the two deal with their respective guilt and shame, Molina's good nature begins to break down Valentin's guard; his method of easing the pain of his cellmate's torture is by telling stories about his idol, the great movie queen Aurora (Rivera), whose glamour and films laden with 40s idealism inspires them both to hope for a happier future.
Aurora's lavish appearances are "Kiss of the Spider Woman"'s calling card; however, of an equal level of style and substance are the more downbeat production numbers of the prisoners, such as the three-part saga "Over the Wall." The grim, harsh prison set design by Jerome Sirlin is replete with vicious guards and a warden (Michael McCormick) who recalls Orwell's Big Brother, overseeing his oppression from an elevated platform. The inmates' united persona--something new to the production, as the novel and film rarely removed the audience from Molina and Valentin's cell--is left to cry out, pleading for understanding and the freedom "over the wall" that they miss, and may never know again.
On a softer side, songs such as "Dear One"--a duet shared by Molina's beloved, frail mother (Merle Louise) and Marta (Lauren Goler-Kosarin), Valentin's girlfriend in the movement--are placed within the prison framework, fleshing out the supporting characters in relationship to the leads' longings for the past. Plenty of contrasting storylines such as this create a rich, multi-layered atmosphere and rare intimacy between audience and characters. In another clever comparison, Molina's tale of unrequited love for married waiter Gabriel (Gary Moss) triggers Valentin's memories of his first sexual encounter: purity and innocence lost.
The singing, dancing, energy and passion required for Aurora makes her a demanding role for anyone. For a woman to fully embody the fictional film goddess is amazing; for Rivera, 62--and apparently stuck in time as the world has aged around her--it is miraculous. If a perfect figure has been her only sacrifice for the voice and dynamics of a woman half her age, Rivera is still leagues ahead of her peers.
Rivera's awesome skill is best showcased in the show-stopping conga routine "Gimme Love." In fact, she is so good in this number it is not hard to imagine that her Broadway successors--Vanessa Williams and Maria Conchita Alonso--must have seemed half-baked in retrospect. Still going long after making her mark in "West Side Story" and "Sweet Charity," Rivera shows no signs of stopping anytime soon--possibly her best asset of all.
For all her fire and brimstone, though, Rivera's diva nearly finds her match in Chioran, whose witty Molina is a man's man and, at the same time, every bit the lovely lady. The Argentinean-born actor has both a soaring voice and a few leggy moves Juliet Prowse would envy; amusingly, some of his song-and-dances are just the sort of bits William Hurt always seemed poised to break into in the film. Also on target with the tragedy of the character, Chioran more than follows Tony-winner Brent Carver, the original Molina.
Chioran's glamour also makes for a potent alchemy with the machismo of Harewood as Valentin. Known for his work in "The Jesse Owens Story" and TV's I'll Fly Away, Harewood offers up a confused, somewhat wide-eyed rebel--less embittered than the one brought to life on screen by the late Raul Julia, but memorable in his own right. He stumbles, rushing through the delivery of some lines, but nevertheless the moment Harewood's booming tenor erupts, he's a most commanding presence.
Making excellent use of space, Prince's direction includes the tricky practice of having more than one scene acted out at once. Thankfully, the show is cleverly blocked to allow characters room to dissolve in and out; for instance, even when Chioran is out of the spotlight he follows Rivera's movements, keeping Molina's impersonation of his heroine visible. The players even cling to one another, eye-to-eye, beyond the boundaries of imagination--as with Aurora's touching "support" of Molina, whom she teaches to nurse a badly beaten Valentin by trusting his instincts, without fear of the fact that he's falling in love.
Though there are minor plot and character changes from its source, one of the most remarkable elements of McNally's adaptation is its faithfulness to the spirit and content of Puig's novel. Despite the incorporation of the lively production numbers, there is almost no point at which the show backs down from even the most indelicate or harrowing subject matter. That in mind, the songs of John Kander and Fred Ebb are fittingly splashy and winsome: they are just as much escape for us as for Molina and Valentin. In essence, the songs are an antidote for their wounds--the same ones which, by bearing witness, also become our own.
Projections used to create illusionary set designs have recently approached a level of saturation in Broadway theatre. With "Kiss of the Spider Woman," the technique holds strong; from lush jungle scenes to crowds symbolizing Valentin's struggle for the common man. In the presentation of the title character, though, the projections are invaluable--as Aurora's most fantastical alter ego, Rivera crawls along the prison bars in slivers of light and sways in an eye-popping "web" that engulfs the stage.
Always somewhat vague in Puig's vision, McNally and Prince have succeeded in bringing the potential of the ominous Spider Woman full circle. The character is purported to have a fatal kiss which no man can resist; as a metaphor for death, Rivera's shadowy lady saturates the plot and Molina's conscience, as his love for Valentin soon creates a dangerous situation. Having once told Valentin that the Spider Woman is Aurora's only guise he dislikes--she frightens him so--it is magical to watch and listen as she serenades him. Assuring him of her true nature: that she is beautiful, that she brings only eternal peace and that her kiss is not to be feared, but to be cherished.
A singular work among musicals of today and yesterday, "Kiss of the Spider Woman" unites both the darkest and lightest levels of humanity in an unforgettable experience. The current production packs fabulous performances on top of the visual and musical splendor, making it entertaining on top of thoughtful. As Aurora beckons, in Molina's fantasies and to us all: "Turn off the lights, and turn on your mind."