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| Miss Saigon |
For a generation, the Vietnam War has remained a source of notoriety for a myriad of reasons, largely related to American politics. It has inspired a lot of great art in the process, helping to capture the psyche of a country that lost the war and was left confused. While this remains a valid perspective, art hasn't been as keen to explore the other perspective: the Vietnamese culture who fell victim to endless bombings and regime changes. With Miss Saigon, the tragedy is brought to life amid a unique love story that spans three years and a rich tapestry of regret. From the team behind the gigantic hit Les Miserables comes a show that is unafraid to explore the dark side of a senseless war. It's one that uses the entire stage to full effect, finding towering set pieces only outnumbered by shattering music numbers. It's a show that asks audiences to address a difficult time in geopolitics, and by the end, it's hard not to feel like the masterpiece of musical theater has proven its point clearly and profoundly.
There is a complicated nature to Miss Saigon that has earned it decades of controversy. Starting at a brothel called Dreamland in Saigon, audiences first discover a world where women are scantily clad, serving as lustful objects for soldiers as the opening number "The Heat is On in Saigon" kicks in. It's a real hootenanny of a moment, especially as the scuzzy narrator/pimp known as The Engineer (Red Concepcion) gleefully gives into the illusion. Everything is carnal. This is the Vietnamese stereotype that has filled the imagination of Americans. It's a moment that is so wild that it is likely to catch many off guards. Rarely has a long-running musical opened with such an explicit scene, serving both as humor and shock in a tone that will only grow throughout the narrative.
It isn't until the second number when the celebrations get pushed aside, when "The Movie in My Mind" kicks in. It's a quiet number sung by Kim (Emily Bautista) reflecting on her disappointment with the way her life had turned out. It's vulnerable, adding depth to the female lead that begins to reflect the push-and-pull of the show at hand. The first song reflects the misconception of an entire culture that is meant for pleasure (itself metaphoric for the general treatment of the country) but is secretly hurting. While The Engineer reflects a cynical side, constantly cutting corners and standing on disadvantaged people for personal gain, Kim will become the romantic lead with a much more complicated story involving a love story with American soldier Chris (Anthony Festa) and the Fall of Vietnam to the Communist regime.
So much happens in the first act that it becomes a beautiful, chaotic nightmare. The spectacle starts to kick in as the story gives way to Ho Chi Minh City in April 1978. During "The Morning of the Dragon," army dances in unison as a giant dragon breathes smoke onstage. Chinese flags fill the background as it becomes clear that the Vietnam that started the show is already starting to crumble. The Engineer is looking for an American visa, believing that the new land will offer him hope. Kim simply wants to survive and live a normal life, finding it difficult as a single mother. The melodrama kicks in as the sets are wielded on stage as fast as they're off, finding action constantly threatening the scene. It creates a sense of war, especially with vibrant uses of red backdrops and flashing lights meant to symbolize bullets. The audience is constantly caught off guard, and it's only because of how strong the previous scenes are that Kim's personal survival becomes so emotionally involved, feeling like the world will destroy her before the song ends. It only gets bleaker from there.
On the surface, the romance is a familiar love triangle presented through a complicated situation. To go deeper is to find a show that is extremely critical of America's involvement in the Vietnam War. The second act's blistering opener "Bui Doi" is the only scene set in America and spends the number mourning their lack of achievement overseas. Actual photography from the war plays behind the singers, reflecting just how much pain comes with losing. America was supposed to win the war, and instead, they gave into a carnal desire, never quite achieving something substantial and turning an entire country against them. As it stands, Kim's relationship with Chris molds its own form of regret. It's the way that the Vietnamese culture became impure, forever destroyed, by simple greed and ignorance. As much as Chris can't live with his trauma, Kim can't escape the place that gave it to him. It becomes complicated when children come into the mix and the conversation of any bond becomes more apparent.
While Claude-Michel Schonberg and Alain Boublil were able to make Les Miserables into a powerful, optimistic story of the lower class, Miss Saigon feels like the other side of the coin. Everything continually gets worse. Kim continues to feel hopeless as The Engineer finds new ways to survive by prostituting women. He gives into the stereotype because it's the image he was taught to be successful. Luckily the music at its core is a typical Schonberg/Boublil style. Dialogue slowly turns into a song, the emotional solos feel sung from the rafters, and the ensemble numbers will pierce your soul. Every note creates an emotion, further creating a realism to the theater that is not to be outdone by the ambitious set design. In the famous helicopter scene, characters line opposite sides of a fence. Throughout the course of the song, the fence is constantly shifted to show each side's perspective. By the time that the helicopter actually appears on stage (it's definitely a highlight full of awe), so much has happened that simply processing the chaos is overwhelming. By the time that it takes off, the tragedy has sunk in with the audience, forcing them to stay with the painful emotions.
It's by no means an easy show to process. Tragedy seems to strike constantly, and despite the melodrama, every emotion feels warranted. It's also a show so full of rich symbolism and metaphor that it requires time to process. Kim may be one person, but her story stands in for a richer text, as does The Engineer during his scuzzy "The American Dream" number so full of conversation of his corrupt youth that it makes sense about how Vietnam has been torn apart over the years. It's also a point where the stereotypes get turned on their heads, asking audience members to question why the world sees America in such a selfish manner. The Engineer and Kim both want that freedom, but both represent it with different intents. The same can be said with how Chris embodies America's help during the war. The ending is a brutal period on a three-hour dissertation. It has confronted the audience, thrusting them into a conflict that has scarred a culture that hasn't had a chance to express themselves as often.
Miss Saigon is a show that is as rich on spectacle as it is story. The journey is a one of a kind story that finds a terrific cast of predominantly Asian actors bringing the story to life at the Segerstrom Theater. It complicates an understanding of a war that remains full of controversy. Even then, the story presents the potential of the stage in all of its forms. By discussing and then deconstructing stereotypes, it creates a new understanding of how an entire culture is seen in theater as well as history. It also is a bold analysis of America, reflecting as much regret as there is blame for mishandling the war. It's difficult to process in part because the story is richer than any one song, but once it's heard, it's hard to not appreciate the nuance and power that went into every note. The cast is talented and makes every minute some of the best theater out there.
While the show has gained a reputation for spectacle thanks to its helicopter set-piece, the thing more interesting than what's seen is what's heard. With excellent performances that capture a tragic time in geopolitics, the musical delves into the heart of its characters to find something richer about what it means to dream, and how many see America. The deconstruction of Vietnamese stereotypes helps to turn the photographs of crying victims into real people, showing just how many people were hurt by the war. It may at times be an imperfect representation of what really happened, but the all-encompassing emotions create a unique experience that asks you to feel and think about troubling subjects. Considering that its themes still resonant in different contexts, the show will continue to provoke and entertain as time goes on. One can hope that a society of peace can form out of deeper understanding like this. Until then, shows like Miss Saigon remain important evidence of how theater can make the world a better place.
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