"[1] Prior to the release of the initial concept album, Byrne presented the music as a song cycle at the Festival of the Arts in Australia in 2006, and in concert at Carnegie Hall in 2007.

The workshop production was directed by Alex Timbers and featured much of the same creative team that would remain with the show, including David Korins as set designer and Annie-B Parson as choreographer.

The cast included Maria-Christina Oliveras, Josh Dela Cruz, Jose Llana, Ruthie Ann Miles, Conrad Ricamora, and Zach Villa.

Although Byrne visited Australia in November 2014 for auditions, the production was postponed and ultimately cancelled altogether "due to unforseen [sic] acoustical engineering issues.

[12][13] It was produced by Hal Luftig, Patrick Catullo, Diana DiMenna, Clint Ramos, Jose Antonio Vargas,[1] Gabriella Wilson,[14] Joseph Glenn Herbert, Sr.,[15] and Allan Pineda Lindo.

Imelda Romualdez is shown as a poor girl[a] in stormy Leyte with best friend Estrella Cumpas and expresses her dreams of joining the upper class ("Here Lies Love").

However, their relationship is short-lived: while Ninoy wishes to pursue politics and give voice to the people, Imelda is only interested in "love and beauty," and they break up ("Opposite Attraction").

As the years pass, Imelda reflects on her more innocent childhood days in poverty but decides she will become the perfect wife to the Senator, all while self-medicating to suppress the stress of life in the public sphere ("Walk Like a Woman").

However, unrest begins to stir in the Philippines due to the Marcoses spending the peoples' money on parties and construction projects over infrastructure and public health; in the wake of these events, including the Manila Film Center disaster,[b] an opposition movement forms under the now-Senator Ninoy Aquino, who puts aside his past with Imelda and the potential risk against his life to become one of the Marcoses' most outspoken critics ("Fabulous One").

Fed up with him, Imelda declares that she will run the country as he is too weak to effectively govern; she becomes the de facto leader of the Philippines, though the regime maintains that Ferdinand is still in charge ("Poor Me").

Due to the growing numbers of protests in Manila ("Riots and Bombs"), Ferdinand declares martial law, and the ensemble sings of their experiences and suffering, mocking the façade of safety the Marcoses claim to provide ("Order 1081").

Imelda visits Ninoy in his cell and, citing their past relationship and her claimed sympathy to his plight, frees him on the condition he goes to the United States and never comes back, offering a veiled threat that he will be killed if he remains ("Seven Years").

[c] At his funeral, Ninoy's mother Aurora calls for the people to revolt as the attendees don yellow armbands, raise their hands in the Laban sign, and burn Imelda and Ferdinand in effigy ("Just Ask the Flowers").

As the Marcoses' popularity and support crumbles, Imelda pathetically asks the people why they have turned against her after all she believes she did for them, while specters of Estrella, Ferdinand, and Maria Luisa similarly accuse her of abandoning them after they helped her get where she is ("Why Don't You Love Me?").

He sings the story of the People Power Revolution while playing his guitar, gradually joined by the rest of the ensemble as they collectively marvel at the peaceful end to an otherwise violent regime ("God Draws Straight").

Generally described as innovative, Here Lies Love has been characterized as challenging tradition by becoming an immersive show that utilizes much audience engagement and inventive set design that transforms the theatre into a disco ballroom adorned by horizontal screens and neon accents.

"[citation needed] Jeffrey Hannan said, "Narrative structure and character development are inviolable necessities in good theatre and Here Lies Love doesn't cheat in that regard.

Despite any preconceived notions of Imelda Marcos you may harbor upon arrival, as the 90-minute event unfolds, you are demanded to see this as a story not of the somewhat laughable icon presented by American media but of a woman.

[28] Jackson McHenry writing for Vulture praised the show as an "unsettlingly good time", noting its effective use of moral dissonance as the audience is encouraged to dance along to an increasingly uncomfortable story.

Jesse Green, who had praised the Public Theater's production, found that the moral was complicated by the musical intentionally making audiences clap and cheer for the Marcoses prior to the story's shift.