By Elaine Liner
By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
What's more, Yul Brynner, who originated the role of the prideful, self-doubting King of Siam on Broadway in 1951 and won an Oscar for his film portrayal, is so wedded to the part in the public's imagination after performing it 4,625 times, it seems almost unjust that the role wasn't retired after his death in 1985.
My bias is further complicated by the fact that The King and I has iconic stature in musical theater. Its brilliant Rodgers and Hammerstein music and lyrics--from romantic ballads such as "Hello Young Lovers" to Broadway showstoppers such as "Shall We Dance"--aren't just a memorable mix of head and heart. They are firmly embedded in our collective cultural consciousness.
Based on a true story, its mythopoetic plot is a timeless clash of civilizations, genders and wills. Being the stuff of legend, it is not surprising that parents would want this story retold to their children, which might account for the large number of youngsters in the audience, including my 7-year-old Max.
Since its original production, this musical has been revived more times than Dick Cheney. Broadway alone has seen revivals in 1960, 1969, 1977, 1984 and 1996. The wonder and awe of musical theater is that it can take an old evergreen such as The King and I and make it new again. So faithful is this revival to the original, however, it takes something old and makes it old again. There is little that is fresh or innovative or bold about this road show, which will tour in cities across the country through 2005. Veteran director Baayork Lee, who performed in the original Broadway production at age 5, offers us a serviceable, charming replica.
As the play opens and Duncan receives her obligatory applause (she began her theatrical career at age 12 in a DSM production of The King and I), we meet Anna and her son Louis aboard the ship that is bringing them to an uncertain future. Their introductory song, "I Whistle a Happy Tune," foreshadows much of the play's psychological conflict, confidence vs. doubt, and establishes Duncan's character, revealing her as someone who is willing to humorously confront her fears and turn weakness to advantage.
Miss Anna assumes her duties of educating the king's 67 children, but she also finds herself drawn to the more difficult task of educating the king. Unlike Yul Brynner, actor Martin Vidnovic plays the King of Siam with hair. Other than that, he certainly looks the part and sings the part, perhaps better than Brynner, who tended to talk his way through the music rather than sing it. Vidnovic has a rich, mellifluous voice, and he instills "A Puzzlement" with the requisite degree of bravado and self-doubt, as he is torn between what he believes he should know as an omniscient ruler and what he realistically knows as a human being.
But Vidnovic puts on such a thick accent that some of his dialogue is practically incomprehensible. He seems to be striving for Asian authenticity, but style gets in the way of substance, and meaning gets lost in the translation.
My son just thought the king was "you know, mean."
Certainly that meanness begins to dissolve as the king introduces Anna to his many wives and children in the display of musical power and pageantry found in the "March of the Siamese Children." Charmingly staged, the children quickly endear themselves to both schoolteacher and audience alike. The chemistry between Duncan and Vidnovic begins its appropriate slow burn. Dampened by the storyline, it can never fully ignite.
A road show can seldom afford to mimic its lavish Broadway counterpart. But scene designer Kenneth Foy presents us with a smart, simple set, draping the stage in long, flowing Oriental tapestries that evoke the feel of period and place. Roger Kirk's rich, jewel-studded costuming seems appropriate for a king and his court. And Anna's hoop skirts and undergarments arouse enough humor and interest among the king's wives to make us all wonder which culture is really the civilized one.
Rumors abound that the king is a barbarian, and he fears that Siam might be overrun by the imperial aspirations of British colonialism. It doesn't help the king's image that slavery and inequality abound in Siam, even at the royal court. The king himself receives the gift of a Burmese concubine (Tuptim, played by Luz Lor), who unfortunately is in love with Lun Tha (played by Martin Sola). Both have remarkable voices, and their ballad, "We Kiss in a Shadow," brings cheers and a few sentimental sniffles from the audience. My son turns his head away from their stage kiss and offers up a disquieting, prepubescent "Yuck."