Dear friends, Some stories don’t just entertain us — they save us. They become a shelter when the world is closing in.They become prayer when we no longer have words.They become a rehearsal for hope. That’s what I found myself thinking Sunday night as the trailer for the new film adaptation of Kiss of the Spider Woman, starring Jennifer Lopez, flashed across the screen during the Tony Awards. Now, you should know that I have always been obsessed with this show. Premiering on Broadway in 1993, this was a new musical at the height of my closeted fabulous pre-teen theatrical awakening. This was my introduction to the delectably dark domain of Kander & Ebb, the sultry satin sonority of Chita Rivera (whose glorious contralto performance made my 10-year-old self feel new things), and it introduced me to a man, in Molina, who looked a lot like me. Someone who escapes the cacophony of shame, fear and doldrums through a goddess of stories who transports him to new worlds, places where mothers sing: “Some other mamas have children whose secrets hurt them so, but you have no secrets - I already know! And you could NEVER shame me!” You can understand why I’ve been following the news of the upcoming movie adaptation closely — nervous that, in the wrong hands, it might lose its “black bead shimmer,” or that J-Lo would be singing Vanessa Williams’ higher keys — a change made for Williams (Chita’s replacement) that, to me, always kills the vibe. This trailer (which I will admit, I actually saw on YouTube a few days before it played during the Tony’s) quickly calmed my trepidation. With tears in my eyes, I said to my husband: “It looks perfect!” Watch the trailer for the new film adaptation of Kiss of the Spider Woman below: In a trailer that fully embraces the fact that this movie IS unapologetically a musical, the story shimmers in a new light — seductive, surreal, dangerous — and it brings me back to something I’ve long believed: This isn’t just a musical. It’s a sacred story. In the second part of the book I’m working on, I explore musicals as sacred texts — not just metaphorically, but ritually, communally, theologically. These are stories we return to again and again, not because they offer escape, but because they hold us in the tension between reality and possibility. Enjoying this reflection? Subscribe to get new essays every 2nd & 4th Thursday Kiss of the Spider Woman does just that. Set in an Argentine prison, the musical centers on two cellmates: Molina, a gay window-dresser imprisoned for “immorality,” and Valentin, a Marxist revolutionary. To survive the brutality around them, Molina retreats into the technicolor world of old movie musicals — especially those featuring Aurora, a glamorous film star who also appears as the Spider Woman, a mysterious figure of death. But here’s the twist:The Spider Woman doesn’t just represent death.She represents transformation. She is both destroyer and redeemer, haunting and holy. In this way, Kiss of the Spider Woman becomes more than a story about political oppression or personal survival. It becomes a kind of musical midrash — a sacred reimagining of what it means to face death, to love beyond fear, to dream when the world would rather you disappear. There’s a moment in the show that hits like liturgy.Aurora sings: “There is love in my touch that is yours to use. And if you choose, just breathe my name. And there I'll be doing miracles I do miracles. There are miracles in me...” It’s not just a love song — It’s a confession. A yearning. A whispered prayer. We, too, have stories that keep us alive — stories that carry us across the chasm between what is and what we still hope could be. This is why I believe musical theatre is sacred. Because these stories don’t just reflect our lives — they shape them.They give us language for suffering, imagination for justice, choreography for joy. And like all sacred stories, they invite us in not just as audience, but as participants. What stories have saved you? What musical has held you through your own prison walls — real or metaphorical? I’d love to hear what’s shaped you. Want more sacred storytelling like this? Subscribe below and join the journey from curtain to communion. See you at the next curtain. With grace and rhythm,Dustin This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit dustinwilsor.substack.com/subscribe
