KISS OF THE SPIDER WOMAN.

CURVE Theatre

When asked to review this production of Kiss of the Spider Woman, I’ll admit I did a double take. I know Kiss of the Spider Woman as Manuel Puig’s novel, an Oscar-winning film and a stage play, but not as a musical.

That in itself raises questions. Kiss of the Spider Woman is not an easy story to musicalise. It’s dark, politically charged and psychologically layered. Set largely inside a South American prison cell where two men, jailed for very different reasons, are forced into a reluctant intimacy. Molina is imprisoned because of his sexuality, while his cellmate Valentin is a political revolutionary. Around them is the constant threat of brutality, torture and state violence.

To survive the squalor and fear of their daily reality, Molina retreats into fantasy, vividly recounting scenes from films starring his beloved screen goddess Aurora. It is through these escapist cinematic visions that the story opens out, shifting between grim realism and heightened theatricality.

Given that subject matter, I confess I was initially sceptical about whether the musical form would work. Yet, like Cabaret and Chicago, both also with music and lyrics by John Kander and Fred Ebb, Kiss of the Spider Woman uses music not to soften its darker ideas, but to heighten them. This is a show interested in power, longing, survival and the strange, often uncomfortable ways people connect when stripped of everything else.

Director Paul Foster handles that tension with assurance in this first major UK revival of the show for more than thirty years. Staged in Curve’s smaller studio theatre, the production wisely leans into intimacy rather than relying just on spectacle. The setting is simple but never underpowered. The prison cell feels claustrophobic and inescapable, with lighting used cleverly to reinforce confinement. Meanwhile, the use of back projections during the fantasy sequences creates a vivid contrast between the drabness of incarceration and the lush unreality of Molina’s inner world.

At the centre of it all is a compelling performance from Fabian Soto Pacheco as Molina. He captures both the character’s gentleness and fragility, while also showing the emotional intelligence and self-protective wit that make Molina such a fascinating figure. His adoration of Aurora never feels camp for camp’s sake. Instead, it becomes an expression of yearning, identity and emotional survival. Opposite him, George Blagden brings a suitably harder edge to Valentin.

Then there is Anna-Jane Casey as Aurora, the glamorous fantasy figure who also becomes the titular Spider Woman. She is simply sensational. Her musical numbers bring a burst of old Hollywood shimmer into the bleakness of the prison setting, and her high-kicking, sharply delivered dance sequences, performed on the relatively confined studio stage, are all the more impressive for their precision and flair. She commands every moment she is on stage.

The fantasy and film-inspired sequences are the production’s greatest strengths. They are playful, feverish and seductive, but always shadowed by something darker. That contrast works well. Rather than feeling tonally disconnected from the prison scenes, these moments reinforce them, acting as both escape and emotional mirror. The grime of the real world only makes the glamour feel more desperate.

Musically, the production is in very strong shape. The vocals across the cast are excellent, and the score is delivered with conviction and polish. There is no doubting the musical theatre pedigree on stage here.

Where the production becomes more complicated is in some of the material itself. Certain lyrics and themes feel undeniably of their time, which is perhaps unsurprising given that Puig’s original novel was published in 1976 and the musical adaptation was first developed in 1990.

Some moments now land with more discomfort than nuance. Songs such as “Gabriel’s Letter” and “My First Woman” are examples of this. The former is beautifully performed and poignantly captures Molina’s longing and romantic idealism about the waiter he fixates on. The latter, although sung powerfully by Blagden, is more troubling. It gestures towards sexual coercion in a way that feels uneasy rather than merely challenging.

That discomfort is only heightened by the way the relationship between Molina and Valentin develops. Whilst initially focussed on his own survival, Molina develops feelings for Valentin. Whereas Valentin’s motivations are more transactional, driven by survival and manipulation rather than affection. That imbalance is part of what makes the story morally complex, but it also means the emotional trajectory between the two men needs to feel absolutely watertight.

For me, that is where this production doesn’t quite fully land. I wanted a little more chemistry, or perhaps more visible softening, earlier on. Without that stronger connective thread, Molina’s later willingness to act so decisively for Valentin feels more understandable in theory than fully felt in practice.

And yet, despite that reservation, this remains an intriguing and impressive revival of a rarely seen musical. At its heart, Kiss of the Spider Woman is a story about the need to be loved, to be seen and to belong, even in the bleakest of circumstances. It’s a production elevated by excellent performances, striking musicality and a central story that still has the power to unsettle as much as it moves.

Photos credit: Marc Brenner