Okay, here's the deal. I would like to go on record, once and for all, and state the following fact: most musicals suck. They are pretentious and, worse yet, they are stupid beyond belief. Normal people walking through life, going about their daily business, and, suddenly, bursting into song? And dance?!? C'mon. You can have your South Pacific, your King and I, and, horror of horrors, your Sound of Music. If you groove on them, more power to you. Hell, I know people that like hitting themselves on the head with tack hammers, too. Whatever rocks your boat, you know?

It goes without saying that I was more than a little bit anxious about going to see Evita. I've been hearing about this thing for over two years. Every actress that could sing "Happy Birthday To You" wanted to play the title role, and about eight different directors were attached to the project at one time or another. Were they going to rewrite it? Were they going to add characters? Were they going to put new music in it?

Well, it didn't do my heart any good when I heard that Madonna was The Chosen One. I mean, folks, let's be serious here. Madonna? Who's That Girl-Shanghai Surprise-Body of Evidence Madonna? Breathless Mahoney-Dick Tracy Madonna? I remember wondering exactly who had to boink who to make that deal. Then, I heard Madonna's voice singing "You Must Love Me," and my hopes rose a notch or two. Maybe there was a ghost of a prayer.

It does not happen often, friends and neighbors, but I was absolutely mesmerized, from the first four minutes into the movie. I was stunned. I was hooked.

This film is a fascinating experience. Alan Parker, the director, has done the remarkable with this piece. He has made a musical that is just that - musical. The film is a full-scale opera, with every word of the film done in song. This opera's stage is on the streets, in the villages, and in the palaces of Argentina. Parker filmed much of the film on location, and featured the looks of Argentina and its people as the scenery.

In case you've been under a rock, the film, and the stage musical on which it is based, is the story of Eva Peron, a poor village girl who rose from the back streets of Argentina to become the wife of the president of the country. Her story is as much legend as it is fact. The woman was the reason her husband, Juan, ever got elected. It was her persona, her voice, her power, that the people of Argentina fell in love with. To them, she was a saint that walked among them, a woman who came from their background, and knew them as a force that kept Argentina going.

And, it is this point that makes the casting of Madonna in the title role all the more believable. Thinking back on the singer's route to her own sort of reign as queen of the airwaves, it makes even more sense how right this choice was.

When Madonna came on the scent some fifteen years ago, pop music was stagnant. Listening to the radio was like wading through a swamp wearing corduroy hipboots. Redundant synthesized techno-pop ruled the airwaves, and acts like Devo and Gary Newman had sucked all the soul out of our radios. Suddenly, from the streets of Detroit, came this funky Italiano dance chick named Madonna. She seemed lightweight at first, but her tenacity and style took root, first seducing Casey Kasem's Top40 crowd, and gradually infusing the turntables and tape decks of hordes of music-hounds. (Some of us mocked her relentlessly, but who didn't dig the hooks of catchy faves like "Holiday" and "Papa Don't Preach"?) Parents went nuts as their pre-teens took to wearing their underwear on top of their clothes, all in an effort to emulate the newly crowned Material Girl. Seeing her on reruns of "American Bandstand" only underscores just how impressive this confident pop queen was, when Geritol Teen Dick Clark's interview revealed her personal ambition (and possibly the only prophetic quote ever spoken on that show) by saying, "What do I want? To rule the world."

Any questions?

Madonna changes fashion statements like a snake sheds skin, and the world follows suit. Her aggressive sexual aura has brought more controversy and caused more discussion than the removal of a thousand fig leaves. She changes vocal styles and orchestrations, the music world follows. Her recent pregnancy was treated on the news like front page news, updated daily throughout the nine month wait and accompanied by as much expert commentary as the O.J. legalities. No female recording artist has achieved as much success over such a long span of time, and no female recording artist wields as much power. Let's call a spade a spade here, people. What Eva Peron did to Argentina, Madonna did to pop culture.

This may sound extreme to those who haven't seen the film yet, but Madonna is miraculous in this movie. She is as big as this epic itself, singing in all but three of the songs in the film's 134 minutes. Her voice is at peak form, more expressive and emotional than ever before.

And, yes, that is as much acting talent as it is singing talent. In this film, she acts as much with her voice as her body, and she can now believably claim the title "actress." (Hell, if an oaf like Gerard Depardieu can claim to be an actor, lumbering across a movie set like Andre the Giant on angel dust, than Madonna can claim to be the queen of the acting world.) And, more amazingly, she accomplished this heft of a feat while under the physical duress of being pregnant!

But there is another person in this movie that should not be ignored. Antonio Banderas has a difficult role in Evita. He is the narrator, Che. He appears throughout the movie, playing a host of characters, from waiters to reporters to oppressed workers. He functions like the chorus in a Greek drama, telling us what we need to know, the stuff we didn't see onscreen, and keeping us updated on what's going on and what's coming up. This could have been a throwaway part from the stage show, but thankfully, it wasn't. Instead, it was fleshed out and jazzed up, and Banderas steps up to the plate, hitting curveballs over for the fence. He surprises with a sparkling singing voice, and when accompanying Madonna, the voices blend to make a splendid harmony. But, when you see this film, watch HOW he sings. His gestures, his eyes, his hands, everything he does adds an extra note to the music. These little facial gestures are small, and would never have been readable on stage, but, in the eye of the camera, they bring out the emotions of the songs, the humor, the anger, the irony. If he could sneak in and get nominated for Best Supporting Actor for this role, it would be a miracle, but his role is exactly what the category says. Banderas is the best supporting actor to work this year.

Evita is huge, both as a movie and in its scope. It runs a wide expanse of moods -- bright and glorious, dark and brooding -- and it is one hell of a good movie. Be prepared, the all-music script takes a bit of getting used to if you're not ready for it, but you will settle into it quickly enough. (Kinda like watching a movie with sub-titles.) Evita is a landmark, folks. I only hope that Andrew Lloyd Weber has enough sense to let Alan Parker do the film version of Phantom of the Opera that everybody keeps talking about. If Parker does for Phantom what he did for Evita, maybe we can once and for all push Maria von Trapp off that damn mountain, and really have movie musicals.