“Panic at the Disco” is a new essay series that unpacks the impact of the Center Theatre Group’s new production of Here Lies Love. The critical journey will explore the complexities of artistic depictions of traumatic events and cultural figures in history and how it impacts the community it represents. Donate to DIASPORAto support independent journalism and more work like this!
On January 30, 2026, Amazon MGM Studios released the feature documentary Melania directed by Brett Ratner. The film is set 20 days before the 2025 presidential inauguration, following Melania Trump’s journey as she prepares to “Be best” in the role of first lady once again.
On February 11, 2023, 13 days after the film debuted, Center Theatre Group previewed their new production of Here Lies Love before its grand opening night on February 18.
The musical and movie premiering weeks within one another christen an era of art that amplifies the narratives of political spectacle, and Melania and Imelda are at the center of it all.
As extensions of their authoritarian husbands, I see the allure of their narrative. The blissful ignorance of the trail of controversy and corruption they left behind is astounding. In Melania, the titular subject is ceremoniously documented, and the pageantry of state events is put in the glaring spotlight. Here Lies Love lives in the same territory, with Marcos using the mirror-balled glamour of disco and celebrity culture to depict her rise to power and eventual fall from grace.
If there were two companion documentaries to Here Lies Love that should be required viewing, it would be Ramona Diaz’s Imelda (2003) and Lauren Greenfield’s The Kingmaker (2019), with more emphasis on the former than the latter.
“When I became first lady, it became demanding of me,” says Marcos in the documentary The Kingmaker. “I have to dress up and make myself more beautiful, because the poor always look for a star in the dark of the night.”
In Imelda, the former first lady of the Philippines, continues her beauty crusade, saying, “It is not expensive to be beautiful. It takes only a little effort to be presentable and beautiful, but it takes some effort – an E for effort. And unfortunately, people think of beauty as luxury, beauty as frivolity – or extravagance. Beauty is a discipline. Beauty is art, is harmony in the ideological sense, and in the theological sense, beauty is God and love made real.”
Marcos’s random, convoluted discourse is reminiscent of that auntie who aggressively helps people just so she can tell you how much of a saint she is. With each act of service she did for “the poor” and with every building she constructed, she stroked her ego, framing her actions as aspirational for the Filipino people.
“When I became first lady, I would be meeting with kings or queens,” said Marcos in Imelda. “It would take me an hour to dress up, but when I go to the provinces, it would take me an hour and a half or two – double the time, because they need a standard. They need a role model. They need a star, especially in the dark of the night.”
American diplomat Stephen W. Bosworth, who is featured in Imelda, said of Marcos, “She considered herself representative of the poor, because the poor Filipinos experienced life through her. When she lived well, they felt good. She told me that on several occasions – and told my wife that as well.”
There is a certain level of delusion when it comes to Marcos that is fascinating. When someone says words like “It is easy to be beautiful because it is natural,” you nod and walk away, not quite comprehending.
Perhaps that is why Imelda and Melania are prime subjects to examine. While their husbands take power and leverage it to their advantage, they are a pseudo-proxy for them and what they represent. There is a complex character behind those vacant eyes (villains always do). Are they genuinely blissfully ignorant of their complicity? Or are they aware of what they represent? Their extravagant lifestyle, disconnection from reality, and self-serving contributions to the world make for elements of The Real Housewives of Authoritarian Regimes.
There is a moment in Imelda where Marcos stands over her husband’s embalmed body, boxed in a refrigerated glass-topped coffin, until he was buried in 2016. “[On] his tombstone, it says ‘Filipino’,” she says. “[On] my tombstone, I would like inscribed: ‘Here Lies Love’.”
Thus, inspiring Fat Boy Slim and David Byrne to create a whole album based on that one phrase and the glamour of Imelda Marcos. The album, which includes more white than Filipino performers, plays into her need for everyone to idolize her because she doesn’t revere herself enough. It plays into Marcos’s need to show that the Philippines is just as good and developed as first-world countries by putting up a smokescreen of glamour and beauty to hide the reality that she claims she wants to save.
Her “keeping up with the Joneses” approach to saving the Philippines resulted in the building of the Cultural Center Complex of the Philippines. Brutalist structures inhabited the 220 acres, including the Manila Film Center, the Philippine International Convention Center, and the Folk Arts Theater. In 1978, the Coconut Palace was built within the complex and was offered to Pope John Paul II as a guest house during his visit to the country. The Pope thought the house was too fancy – and considering the poverty he witnessed in the Philippines, he thought that staying in an extravagant seven-bedroom house wasn’t for him.
In Gerard Lico’s book Edifice Complex: Power, Myth and Marcos State Architecture, he writes about how the Marcos regime used brutalist architecture as a display of power. In turn, it would bolster support from the public. The term “edifice complex” became tethered to the Marcoses and the titles of more books.
In the 2005 book The Edifice Complex: How the Rich and Powerful Shape the World, author Deyan Sudjic adds to the conversation: “There is a psychological parallel between making a mark on the landscape with a building and the exercise of political power. Both depend on the imposition of will.”
The Cultural Center was a means to boost the prestige and image of the Philippines, garner more global recognition, and provide centralized control through state-funded arts.
Marcos’s architectural prowess was highly criticized as these buildings contributed to the massive debt during a time when the Philippines was in economic crisis. The structures caused displacement of communities, and during the construction of the Manila Film Center, scaffolding collapsed, and over 150 workers fell and were buried under quick-drying wet cement. There have been discrepancies when it comes to the number of workers who died and how the Marcoses handled it.
The conversation about Here Lies Love, and its impact on the Filipino diaspora, is a direct reflection of the Marcos legacy: use shiny things to distract from the truth and accountability.
The Broadway production provided work for many Filipinos and incredible visibility, but like Marcos, the glitz and glamour eclipsed community advocacy. There seemed to be more focus on cultural prestige rather than paying reverence to the community the musical was meant for.
When the new iteration of Here Lies Love was announced, Los Angeles-based playwright Nicholas Pilapil (The Bottoming Process, God Will Do The Rest) said he was optimistic about the production. ”There are so many talented Filipinos in L.A., and so few opportunities for them to play something that feels close to themselves at that scale,” Pilapil told DIASPORA.
Writer-producer James Tinsley agrees with Pilapil – to a certain extent. “On one hand, I always get hyped when a Filipino-centric project – be it a film, series, or show – comes to LA,” Tinsley admits. “On the other hand, I was disappointed to hear that Here Lies Love was coming to our city because the Marcos family doesn’t deserve to be glorified.”
“I struggle to see how Here Lies Love can help heal those impacted by the Marcos regime,” Tinsley tells DIASPORA. “I don’t care how vast Imelda Marcos’ shoe collection was. Her family helped sink the Philippines into an endless abyss of poverty.”
He continues, “Exploring her character through the backdrop of disco stands to trivialize the eternal damage she and her family have done to the Filipino community.”
As I wait to experience Center Theatre Group’s production of Here Lies Love, I am excited but also remain skeptical. There is some good early buzz coming out of the woodwork and the musical extended its run through April 5. Whether or not that extension is warranted is up for question.
