The Brits who are stripped of their jewelry and fancy clothes disappear, as it says in Tim Rice's sardonic lyrics, into the crowd. Peron exhales a triumphant puff of cigar smoke after his military victory in the musical chairs number. I, turning the tables and making her sympathetic in the second act when she softens because cancer is the one enemy she cannot beat. Even Che is affected by her pathetic state, tenderly moving the microphones closer when she can hardly speak any more. He is so affected by Eva's illness that he can't even help her when she collapses.
Every moment sparkles.
Every inch of the stage radiated light.