`Kiss Of The Spider Woman' Sizzles As It Sears

Theater review "Kiss of the Spider Woman." Book by Terrence McNally, music by John Kander and lyrics by Fred Ebb. Directed by Harold Prince. At 5th Avenue Theatre, tonight through Jan. 28. 292-ARTS.

Only in a Broadway musical would a graphic scene of prison torture segue into a big, glitzy song-and-dance number - probably only in a Broadway musical directed by the forever audacious Harold Prince.

Such intentionally jarring transitions occur with some frequency in "Kiss of the Spider Woman," the elaborate Prince production now visiting the 5th Avenue Theatre in its first national tour.

Like the novel of the same title by Argentine author Manuel Puig, and the U.S.-Brazilian film version, this theatrical "Kiss" chronicles the unlikely rapport between two cellmates in a hellish Latin American prison, and the technicolor fantasies that soothe and bond them.

Part human-rights manifesto, part gay-pride fable and part razzamatazz spectacle, the Broadway "Kiss" (which won seven Tony Awards in its 1993 Broadway premiere, including one as "best new musical") merges kitsch with confrontation in ways that can be disconcertingly schizoid.

On the other hand, the show kicks up its heels to a pleasing, Latin-flavored score by composer John Kander and lyricist Fred Ebb. It revels in trompe l'oeil metamorphosis, as scenic designer Jerome Sirlin's towering gridwork of steel bars melts into projected scenes of tropical jungle, Russian imperial domes and glistening spider webs.

And it has a muse of allure and menace in Chita Rivera, the leggy, venerable Broadway star whose artful Spider Woman weaves the whole shebang together.

Portraying a fantasy B-movie queen named Aurora, Rivera sings, dances and slinks around her web with authority, in top form at age 62 in an array of sexy Florence Klotz costumes. And the mercurial glamour queen and insatiable arachnid she portrays is far more central here than in the "Kiss" film.

Showy musical turns based on Aurora's exotic movie romances are summoned up by the window dresser Molina (played with swishy eclat and hearty voice by Juan Chioran) whenever he needs an escape from grim prison reality. Given the horror of the place and the interest Molina's evil captors take in his Marxist cellmate Valentin (Dorian Harewood, whose acting here generally outshines his singing), escapism abounds.

At first, Valentin, the macho revolutionary, and Molina, the petulant, apolitical homosexual, antagonize each other. But the relentless campaign of terror by their warden (Michael McCormick), and the fleeting relief of Aurora, bring the men closer - and seal their doom.

With Puig's blessing, McNally altered the story's ending, making Valentin's sexual offering to Molina more an act of self-interest than pity. That works just as well, perhaps better.

The Kander-Ebb score embellishes the tale with yearning ballads (the four-way "Dear One"; the maternal ode "You Could Never Shame Me," sung movingly by Merle Louise); frisky mambos ("Gimme Love"); and come-ons by the Spider Woman, the seductive death angel whose kiss is fatal.

One can admire the sleek interplay of striking visuals (lit exquisitely by Howell Binkley), music, dance, humor and socially aware drama in "Kiss of the Spider Woman," and the fiery performances by Chiorin, Harewood and Rivera, yet be put off by a certain glibness and some grating incongruities.

Apart from specifics in the anthem "The Day After That," delivered stirringly by Harewood, Valentin's politics stay generic and largely unexamined - as does the jailors' barbarism.

An "Evita"-like visual tableau alludes to the disappearance and likely murder of thousands of suspected leftists in Argentina and elsewhere. But references to Amnesty International aside, the issue remains sketchy.

The show does simulate torture in excessive detail, however. And when the brutalized torture victims rise up to cavort with Aurora, in upbeat dances devised by Vincent Paterson and Rob Marshall, it's like piling whipped cream onto a gaping wound.

"Kiss of the Spider Woman" deserves respect for its daring ambitions and imaginative execution. But ironic intensity and Broadway-style hoofing are still a strange mix.