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Denver Post Theater Critic Dec. 15 - Forty-six years after it first opened on Broadway, "The King and I'' retains its melodious magic. You wake up the next day with its tunes still humming in your head. A love story set in the framework of a clash of Eastern and Western cultures, the Tony Award-winning '90s reinterpretation of the Rodgers and Hammerstein classic is opulently staged. The national tour production throbs with color and stuns with spectacle. The costumes are a rainbow of silks encrusted with gold and beading. The set pieces, which include an ornate golden throne room and 30-foot-tall jeweled elephants, are breathtaking. The lighting effects are glorious, especially in scenes where the nighttime sky is filled with tiny diamond-sparkling stars. And the delicately danced play-within-aplay, "The Small House of Uncle Thomas,'' remains a visual and emotional high-point. But there are some cracks in the veneer, most noticeably in the vocal performance of Hayley Mills in the role of Anna. As charming an actress as she is, Mills simply cannot sing. On opening night, in songs that should soar, including "Hello Young Lovers,'' "Getting to Know You'' and "I Whistle a Happy Tune,'' her voice was often hoarse, strained or just plain flat. And forget breath control - throughout the evening, Mills offered not one sustained note. In contrast, Luzmivinda Lor as the slave girl, Tuptim, displays a shimmering soprano voice in "My Lord and Master,'' "We Kiss in a Shadow'' and "I Have Dreamed.'' And Helen Yu, as the King's loving, dignified wife, Lady Thiang, showcases rich, warm tones in "Something Wonderful.'' The musical is based on the diaries of Anna Leonowens,an English widow who moved to 1860s Siam with her young son to become the governess for the king's many offspring (winningly presented in "The March of the Siamese Children''). Vee Talmadge is a revelation as the King. His high cheekbones, powerful profile and piercing eyes stand him in good stead (and his long flowing mane dispels any lingering ghost of Yul Brynner). Even more effective is Talmadge's complete understanding of the complexity of his character. Talmadge makes the King human, whether commanding his subjects with an uplifted chin and autocratically pointed finger, puzzling over the ways of the world or engaging in delightful duels of wills with Anna. (The king makes her promise her head shall never be higher than his, then tests her by moving lower and lower until her efforts to comply end up in a frothy heels-overhead tumble of petticoats.) When not called upon to sing, Mills, with her large, expressive blue eyes and proud carriage, is a delight, investing Anna with an intriguing mixture of no-nonsense pragmatism and warm femininity. It certainly intrigues the King. The "Shall We Dance'' moment, when the King places his hand on her waist and draws her toward him in a slow, firm embrace, is electric. Based in truth, "The King and I'' illuminates a moment in history. It's the 1860s and tiny Siam is in danger of being taken over as a British protectorate. The King, although his reign is filled with submissive wives and groveling servants, is an intelligent, thoughtful man determined to save his kingdom - and even more determined not to be thought of as a barbarian. At the same time, he is a dictator, whose lethal cruelty toward a pair of young lovers (beautifully portrayed by Lor and Timothy Ford Murphy), who defy him, causes Anna to break with him. After more than 50 years, "The King and I'' with its rich score and strong story remains a landmark of American musical theater. In most instances, this production does it justice. |