Siamese dream

Maine State Music Theatre’s The King and I

By Josh Rogers

The King and Ishows at Maine State Music Theatre, Pickard Theatre, Bowdoin, Brunswick through June 22. Call (207) 725-8769.

ODD COUPLE: Mary Gordon Murray and Ronn K. Smith.

The Rodgers and Hammerstein story is firmly imbedded in our popular culture. A smart, attractive English widow accepts a teaching job in the royal palace in the kingdom of Siam. In return for imparting scientific ideals and Western language to the royal court, the King has promised Anna Leonowens 20 pounds a month (“sterling!”) and a house of her own outside the palace walls. Shortly after arriving in the Wild East, however, Anna finds that the King is in the habit of conveniently forgetting his promises (“I will do remembering!”) and is constantly at odds with her Western notion that women are equal to men.

Set in 1862, The King and I fictionalizes a tumultuous time for Siam (now Thailand). In an era when China, Korea, India, Burma, and Japan were coming increasingly under European control, the small nation’s sovereignty was severely threatened. With the help of Anna, the King struggles to hold on to his crown.

The King (Ronn K. Smith) is a man torn between Western ideas and ancient tradition. Although he’s aware that he lives in a changing world, he longs for the simpler days of his childhood: “When I was a boy world was better spot/ What was so was so, what was not was not.” Smith’s waffling and confusion is delicious in “A Puzzlement,” and his vocal prowess is never in question.

Though the play was originally written with Anna as the lead, Yul Brynner, then a relative unknown (cast only after several more prominent actors turned down the role), stole the original Broadway show; his on-stage magnetism is palpable in the 1956 film version, while Deborah Kerr’s Anna is merely a competent co-star.

Brynner’s indelible imprint on the role (he played it 4500 times up until his death in 1985) is a potential problem for any actor daring to slip their bare feet into the King’s anklets: Do you play the King or do you do your best Brynner? For the most part, Smith runs the course that Brynner already established, and does it spot-on. His stage presence is electric: There’s no doubt he’s King here. And you can sense his boyish mirth, the smile dancing behind his stern face and his rigid posture. It’s no surprise when the severe King busts out and asks Anna to dance in the second act.

It’s Mary Gordon Murray’s Anna, however, that sets Maine State Theatre’s production above the original film version. In Murray, Smith can riff off of all the vitality, sex, and punch slightly lacking in the on-screen Anna. Murray is a sparring partner equal to Smith’s hard-headed King, raising their dynamic to Moonlightingýlevels of sexual repression/aggression. Anna finds him at once impossibly maddening and relentlessly endearing – upon arrival, for instance, she nearly turns around and heads home upon learning that the King has conveniently forgotten to give her a house. The King, in turn, manipulates her into staying by introducing some of his 67 children (“I begin very late”). Charmed by their cute faces, she agrees to stay. She’s at once turned on by his sexual virility and softened by his hidden love for the kids. She gives as good as she gets, though, driving the King mad by teaching the children songs with the words “house” and “home” in them.

Although Murray plays Anna a bit on the submissive side at times, she sticks up for what she believes, demonstrating a self-possession that runs much deeper than the King’s. In a companion piece to the King’s conflicted “A Puzzlement,” Murray is all confidence and playful outrage as she belts out a rousing “Shall I Tell You What I Think of You?” Her staid Victorian manner prevents her revealing these emotions in the King’s court, but, alone in her bedroom, she seethes exasperation, outrage, and (lying pjone on the floor at the end) perhaps what’s behind it all: a bit of sexual frustration. “Give us a kick/ Ooohh, that was goood, your majesty,” she groans, grinding her hips into the floor.

The scenery is magnificent throughout, radiating splendor often through small prop shifts and simple changes of lighting. The actors’ placement on the stage is never confused as they make the most of the palatial 840 square feet of acting room. And the costumes are immaculate, setting the tone of each scene.

All of these elements come together in Act Two, during the play-within-a-play, The Small House of Uncle Thomas• a Siamese version of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s classic anti-slavery novel. Tuptim, the Burmese slave/wife befriended by Anna, crafts the play, as in Hamlet, to “catch the conscience of the king.” Tuptim’s play is performed during a royal reception for Sir Edward Ramsey, a British diplomat dispatched to Siam to feel out whether the King is worthy to rule. Here, the royal audience becomes the theater audience, actively drawing us into the sumptuous brilliance of the number.

Using elements of classical Thai ballet and pantomime, choreographer Linda Cholodenko creates a Technicolor fantasia. Through masks, fan dancing, and highly stylized movement and props, the little play becomes one of the most moving and engaging scenes in the larger work.

The royal welcome is a success. Thanks to Anna’s guidance, Sir Ramsey decides the King is not, as the rumor went in Europe, a barbarian. Siam will maintain its autonomy. It’s a bitter-sweet victory, as the King retains the narrow vision that Tuptim is his rightful property, signaling an inevitable escalation of the rift between Anna and the King. Modernity and tradition. The playful oil and water of their chemistry makes the eventual break-up that much more riveting to watch.

Josh Rogers can be reached at jrogers@phx.com.