Stufish
Does Madonna have anything to say? Perhaps the answer to that question is less interesting than her attempt to say something in the first place.
Madonna is in the midst of her “Madame X” tour, named for her latest album, which débuted (as I’m sure you remember) at No. 1 in June. While the album is typical for Madonna in its attempt to meld yet more world music into a pop-dance milieu, the tour is a bit of a curveball for the superstar, since she’s decided to forego giant venues in favor of smaller rooms coupled with longer “residencies” in a few cities. When you typically fill stadiums and arenas, a 3,000-seat theater is practically Sunday supper with the family.
The Philadelphia Metropolitan Opera House is such a venue, and that’s where I saw Madonna take her creative stand. The show was sloppy, disjointed and rambling, but it was brave in its own way, and perhaps the most compelling case I’ve heard for considering Madonna as a bona fide, boundary-pushing artist rather than a commercial pop star.
Gen X-ers who paid through the nose to hear the ’80s hits left disappointed. People who came to collect Instagram and Facebook proof they paid through the nose to see Madonna were shut out—all phones were locked in Yondr bags for the duration of the show. “Like a Virgin” virgins paid through the nose for satisfaction, but left the theater as chaste as they came.
The original showtime of 8:30 p.m. was pushed back to 10:30. When music started at 10:45, it was a quartet of talented Portuguese musicians playing acoustic versions of Madonna hits. After 30 minutes, an announcement declared technical difficulties would delay the show. The crowd stewed.
In retrospect, the preternatural attempts to enrage her devoted fans had a certain logic. Making people uncomfortable is, and perhaps has always been, Madonna’s goal. She makes it clear at the opening of the show, which features a clean-cut businessman being gunned down as a James Baldwin quote is projected across the stage: “Art is here to prove that all safety is an illusion. … Artists are here to disturb the peace.”
Heady stuff, and perhaps a little above Madonna’s pay grade, but a mission statement most popsters would shy away from. She did her part by calling out sexism, voicing support for gun control and declaring “I’m not keeping my baby” in an a cappella chorus of “Papa Don’t Preach.”
There were moments of humor and some raunchy bits, as you might expect, but there was also some stunning, Martha Graham-inspired choreography, and moments of uplift that did their best to eschew raw nostalgia.
Four of her daughters took part in the performance. She paid homage to her adopted home of Portugal by adding fado music to her set, and some seriously talented musicians from Lisbon. Orquestra Batukadeiras, an all-female drum ensemble from Cape Verde, was a stunning surprise mid-show. Coupled with classic tunes such as “Human Nature,” “Like a Prayer” and “Vogue,” it became a celebration of Philadelphia freedom, even if the through-line frayed at times.
The most egregious lulls came when Madonna took advantage of the setting to engage the audience in a bit of impromptu back-and-forth. Instead of using the time to further the themes of the show, she took a seat in the crowd, flirted with a few starstruck guys and swiped some swigs of beer from overjoyed fans. It was cute, but proved Madonna is only quick on her feet in a literal sense.
Even in an unusually intimate show, the biggest surprise was that Madonna’s brand of pop spoke with such direct authority. She had a lot to say, and it was worth hearing.
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