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STAGE REVIEW
It isn't as awe-inspiring as theStageReviewNational Theatre's reworking of ''Carousel,'' but ''The King and I'' is such a recognized treasure of musical theater that too much monkey business shouldn't be in the cards, today's political sensibilities notwithstanding. This is, after all, among the top three scores that we have from Rodgers and Hammerstein. Most of today's composers would die for a career, never mind one musical, that included ''Hello, Young Lovers'' and ''Shall We Dance?'' along with ''I Whistle a Happy Tune,'' ''Something Wonderful,'' and ''We Kiss in a Shadow.''
The most radical aspect here is the casting of Hayley Mills as Anna Leonowens, the governess to the children of the King of Siam. When two icons of the 1950s like Mills and ''The King and I'' meet, the result isn't an exercise in nostalgia, but a fresh way of looking at the relationship of Anna and the king. Mills's Anna isn't a priggish moralist, like Deborah Kerr's in the movie or Donna Murphy's in the New York version of the revival, but a less rigid, more compromising and far more agreeable symbol of West meeting East. As for the king, Vee Talmadge carries himself with greater dignity than Yul Brynner or Lou Diamond Phillips, although he doesn't make up in dignity what he loses in charisma.
The revival won three Tonys including best musical and the only one I'd quibble with, and I'm in a distinct minority, is set design. Although it does fill the Wang stage beautifully the scenery seems like a Thai restaurant in Las Vegas. (And the miking at the Wang Center is a huge improvement over past productions.)
As for the politics of the musical, to read the spin control on the musical by the composers' heirs you'd think that Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein were Noam Chomsky and Howard Zinn in terms of compassion toward the Third World. But the musical came out of the 1950s, a time in which American pop culture thought of Asians in terms of Charlie Chan, Fu Manchu, and the Dragon Lady.
By those standards, ''The King and I'' did make an effort to treat the Siamese people with compassion, even if the king and his subjects were simpletons. That said, it does make sense to find whatever contemporary nuances the text allows for and this production finds them all, particularly in Mills's less strident, i.e. imperialistic, Anna, who makes the same journey from innocence to experience, and understanding, as heroines of other Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals.
So what if she doesn't have Donna Murphy's pipes? Yul Brynner wasn't John Raitt, either, but who besides Brynner could send a shiver up your spine by speak-singing ''or perchance'' in ''Shall We Dance?'' Mills doesn't have those kind of moments, but the only song where you really long for someone with Murphy's power is ''Hello, Young Lovers,'' one of the most achingly beautiful songs written by Rodgers and Hammerstein, but well beyond Mills's range.
Nevertheless, there's enough else to bask in, including standout singing by the Asian cast members and a spectacular version of ''Shall We Dance?'' 10 of the most captivating moments in musical theater history.
Here we not only get charm, but romantic and sexual tension. Ultimately this ''King and I'' becomes a tragedy of lovers whose lives can't quite meet, rather than of a king caught between two worlds.
There is hope for the future, but not for the king and Hayley, who exudes the same strength of spirit she always has, even if by the end of ''The King and I'' she is no Pollyanna.
This story ran on page D01 of the Boston Globe on 09/26/97.
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