The King and I. Music by Richard Rodgers. Book and Lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II.

Truly great musicals – of which Rodgers and Hammerstein’s The King and I must be close to the most perfect example – set every creative team who takes them on an unenviable set of obstacles. The first one is the audience’s experience of the show that has gone before. (One of mine was a disastrous performance in London’s West End when, suffering from laryngitis, Susan Hampshire – who was playing Mrs Anna – had a go at I whistle a happy tune, and then they just cut the rest of her songs. It was, as you might imagine, appalling. Strangely, however, the show is so good that it still managed to shine through the hapless attempt at its presentation.)

I also have exceptionally fond memories of Melbourne’s Arc Musical Theatre Company’s production (many, many moons ago!) – starring Sylvia Picton as a glorious Mrs Anna and Tony Kentuck as The King. And then there is the 20th Century Fox film – the indisputable and most perfect account of this musical there has been, and will ever be.

And while I’m not predicating that every attempt at staging this musical is measured against the resources of a major motion picture studio, I am certain that the overall experience of a production of this musical (similarly to The Sound of Music – which 20th Century Fox, fighting their way back from financial and artistic oblivion on the back of the troubled (and expensive) Cleopatra, threw everything they could at, resulting in similar perfection) must offer something else other than just a serviceable account of the material.

The Production Company has consistently provided its stars every opportunity to shine in their staged concert performances of some of the great, mostly American, musicals. For some inexplicable reason, this is the first of their productions I have seen – and, in her welcome piece in the program, Production Company Chairman Jeanne Pratt is entirely correct: it won’t be my last. This opportunity to see and hear Rodgers and Hammerstein’s gem almost had me booking to go back and see it a second time. Almost.

The most exciting news is that a star was born in Melbourne’s State Theatre on Wednesday night. Her name is Emily Xiao Wang, and her ‘Tuptim’ was sensational. So too, but less consistently, was Adrian Li Donni’s doomed Lun Tha, and their duets I have dreamed and We kiss in a shadow were the musical highlights of the evening. But nothing either before, or afterwards, compared to Ms Xiao Wang’s absolutely perfect rendition of the early ballad My Lord and Master. Silvie Paladino came close with her sterling rendition of Something Wonderful – but something was missing. Ms Paladino had yet to make the necessary connection to the number: she just didn’t seem to believe it. Yes, it’s a great song – a standard. But within the context of any kind of performance of The King and I, it becomes a great love song, not an anthem – and Ms Paladino’s handling of it was masterful, but a little too efficient.

Chelsea Gibb appeared ill-at-ease as Anna Leonowens, and I never imagined I would hear I whistle a happy tune performed as a big broadway belt. Frankly, I hope I never do again. It’s the first big, instantly recognizable moment – and it served to set a series of alarm bells ringing in my head. I need to declare that I am a R&H traditionalist – and if this was going to be a post-modern interpretation of one of the great acting/singing/dancing leading ladies of the music theatre canon, it was going to be a very one-sided affair. Fortunately, Ms Gibb warmed up as the evening progressed and revealed (to me anyway) a strong upper register that she would do well to instinctively trust a great deal more. Having thoroughly adored her Roxy in Chicago (where the big ‘Broadway belt’ belongs), the revelation of a vastly increased range was exciting.

The King and I, without the famous polka, just isn’t The King and I – and the supreme disappointment resulting from the fact that Kathryn Sproul’s otherwise perfectly versatile central structure didn’t get out of the way so that the most famous sequence in this musical could happen on the huge State Theatre stage was quite palpable.

Musically, Orchestra Victoria – under the direction of Peter Casey – handled the score beautifully. My only reservation was the decision to split the orchestra in two (with the strings on one side of the stage and the brass, woodwind and percussion) on the other. I found this reduced the impact of the sound considerably – resulting in a less than satisfactory over-amplified sensibility. The lack of cohesion also took its toll on The March of The Siamese Children – where it seemed, for an instant, that this wonderful piece of music just got away from them. The choice to split the orchestra like this seemed to also make something of a statement about how much more important the staging imperatives were to the musical ones. Unhappily, even though Terence O’Connell’s direction was beautifully handled, it didn’t illuminate anything particularly new and invigorating about this work that might have meant the splitting of the orchestra was a wise or valid idea.

Alana Scanlan’s choreography (with the exception of a half-hearted polka) was perfect – and the long, troublesome The Small House of Uncle Thomas ballet in the second act was spectacularly imagined and brilliantly danced.

But at the heart of The King and I, is the King – a sensational role for the right performer. And Juan Jackson is precisely the right performer. His near-complete command of this fascinating and entirely unconventional leading man was superb, and one can only imagine that as the season progresses, he will become more comfortable with the many complexities of the role. Further down the track, it’s not at all difficult to imagine Mr Jackson making something of a signature role with his future performances as The King in The King and I.

The death of the King is the death of a wide-eyed, amazed, bewildered child/man who is on the precipice of achieving great things for his country. I cry every time I see the film. I was not moved in quite the same way by this performance. There is a big heart beating in The King and I – that is its monumental power. And when that heart stops beating, it is an immense tragedy. I hope that this wonderful company, through each performance that remains, discovers something more of that heart.

Geoffrey Williams