Move over Romeo: theatre’s second most famous balcony scene has stolen the show.
Every night this week Rachel Zegler has emerged halfway through Jamie Lloyd’s production of Evita at the London Palladium to sing its biggest number to the Oxford Circus crowds. Last weekend the Hollywood ingenue was serenading surprised shoppers, but since her performance of Don’t Cry For Me Argentina went viral it’s become the hottest (free) ticket in the West End.
Some stand in wait for two hours to catch the seven-minute scene. But what is the experience actually like – and is it worth hanging around for?
On Wednesday night, the crowd was a mix of musical theatre fans and Rachel Zegler stans. Most were in their 20s and 30s, although an older couple on holiday from Nebraska had been sent along by their daughter, and Susan, who had been there longest, was a 76-year-old who had seen the original production with Elaine Paige.
“We’re both interested in the accessibility of the arts,” said 25-year-old Sian, who had come with her drama-school buddy. “I don’t know the show, but I know that the context of the song is her singing out to the peasants. And we’re the peasants!” That sense only increased when theatregoers stepped out during the interval to video the ticketless hordes on their phones.
Some in the crowd had already seen the show and were returning for an IRL version of the performance they had watched on screen inside the playhouse. “Evita’s my favourite musical and I’ve seen a number of productions,” said 37-year-old Rowena. “But this one’s really cleverly done: the staging’s very bare, no props or decoration really, but they do a lot with it.”
Around 9pm a stagehand emerged on to the balcony to unleash the long-armed camera that would capture the images projected to the audience inside. A dozen chorus members costumed in athleisure emerged on to the street and hush descended as their faces were dabbed by attendant make-up artists. “I’m actually not ready for this,” a young man whispered. “My heart is pounding.”
A few moments later the song’s intro piped over the speakers – its familiar melody sung out by strings – and Zegler glided across to the centre of the balcony with a blond updo and huge diamond clusters glittering from her neck and ears. She looked out over the crowd tenderly, and a little searchingly, as if looking for connection, before beginning with those iconic lines: “It won’t be easy, you’ll think it strange …”
It’s a famous song that’s been interpreted in different ways by stars from Patti Lupone to Madonna. Zegler’s voice has a clarity and innocence well suited to its frequently ingenuous lyrics. Her tiny Disney princess hands clasped the edge of the iron railing and there was even a Snow White smile. But you felt a sense of Eva Perón’s egoism and manipulation as the diva gestures – the regal wave, the arms to the sky – took over and Game of Thrones lovers may have found themselves having Daenerys Targaryen flashbacks.
By the end she was turning away from us to secure her closeup, proclaiming “Every word is true” even as flutes trilled laughingly in the background. The crowd’s whooping and applause became as much a part of the performance as the chorus’s accompanying hums. By the time Perón was spouting her Robin Hood lies about stealing from the oligarchs for the good of the people, Argyll Street was screaming its approval.
The fact that the road remains open as a pedestrian thoroughfare during the performance added colour, with passersby approaching door staff to ask what on earth was going on. And the speed of dispersal when Zegler returned inside was theatrical magic: the street transformed from the Casa Rosada back to a grimy shortcut to the tube in a Cinderella instant.
Nina, from Argentina, was one of the handful of ardent fans who stuck around a further hour to join the secondary crowd of autograph-hunters by the stage door after the show. She was impressed by Zegler’s pronunciation, and wished she could see the whole production. But all the cheap tickets for under-30s were sold out, and the rest were too expensive.