Joe Nemmers and Luann Aronson. Photo by James Jamison.

Joe Nemmers and Luann Aronson. Photo by James Jamison.

Luann Aronson. Photo by James Jamison.

Richard Rodgers and Robert Russell Bennett.

Gregory Sullivan Isaacs

  

The King and I

by Richard Rodgers (music)
Oscar Hammerstein II (book and lyrics)

Presented by Lyric Stage

June 19 - 29

at Irving Arts Center
Carpenter Performance Hall
3333 North MacArthur Blvd.
Irving, TX 75062
972-252-2787

$20-$50

8pm Thursday-Saturday; 2:30pm Sunday
Runtime: Three hours, 15 minutes with one intermission

►First, Mark Lowry's review:

It seemed unimaginable that Lyric Stage could top its phenomenal 2007 full-orchestra production of Rodgers and Hammerstein's Carousel, but its staging of the famous duo's better-known musical The King and I has done just that.

Directed by Cheryl Denson and featuring original orchestrations played by a 35-piece orchestra (conducted by music director Jay Dias), this King and I is not only a visual feast and beautifully sung, it's also rich in storytelling, thanks to clear and focused acting performances. For once, here's a production of a warhorse musical that is concerned with the entire picture, and not just with nailing the well-known songs and rehashing previously seen characterizations.

Usually it's a treat simply seeing this lush musical with competent singers and dancers who can pull off one of legendary choreographer Jerome Robbins' greatest achievements, The Small House of Uncle Thomas ballet. But in Denson's production, it goes above and beyond. For instance, the parallels between the ballet's source material, Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, and the musical's themes of slavery, flight from an unpleasant situation and needing a house of one's own are crystal clear, but not forced. (The musical is based on Anna and the King of Siam by Margaret Langdon.)

And hearing the majestic score with so many instruments is just one part of the puzzle (opera composer Gregory Sullivan Isaacs' review of this aspect is below).

Luann Aronson plays Anna, the British schoolteacher who comes to Siam (now called Thailand) with her son to teach English to the King's children, and her performance is revelatory. For once, this character doesn't seem like she is just another teacher ordered to teach her language in some exotic country. Aronson plays her with passion and purpose, and her singing is full of emotion and spirit.

The King was never a difficult role to sing, which is why actors who aren't vocally strong often play the role. Local actor Joe Nemmers won't blow anyone away with his singing prowess, but at least it feels natural and unforced. He's also not tall, as the real King wasn't, and his honest attraction to Anna is believable. He has many wives, but Nemmers actually gives us a King who discovers true love for the first time. Interestingly, the power he wields over his court and everyone around him is never in question either.

There is also soaring vocal work (and equally powerful acting) from Adrian Li Donni as Lun Tha, the man who delivers a gift from Burma's king to the Siam king; and Jung Eun Kim as that gift, the lovely Tuptim; and from Ya Han Chang, who makes Lady Thiang a real person, not the caricature of the put-upon first wife that is often brushed off in this show.

And then there's that ballet. Robbins' ingeniously combined elements of Chinese opera and Southeast Asian dance (mostly Cambodian) for a spectacularly choreographed sequence performed for British visitors. Created by Tuptim, it follows Eliza (Angela Nicole Moore) as she escapes the "kingdom of Kentucky" for the freeman's land of Canada, running from Simon of Legree (Molly Welch—the main characters wear masks and, as in the Cambodian style, women play all of the main characters), aided by an Angel (Amanda Brown) and Buddha (Anthony Carillo, who sits above the clouds). Restaged here by Ann Neiman, Lyric's dancers perform this ballet in unison, with grace, focus and admirable athleticism.

If there's to be any criticism of this production, it's that some of the King's wives are awfully white. It's hard to cast so many Asians (and other non-Caucasian ethnicities) in large productions like this, but at least give the milky gals some bronzer.

But that's minute in the midst of such a gorgeous production. The scenery (by Michael Anania) and costumes (mostly rented and coordinated by Drenda Lewis), along with Julie Moroney's lighting and Bill Eickenloff's sound design all add to the triumphant production.

And you can't really talk about sound without highlighting these restored orchestrations, with brings us to...

►Gregory Sullivan Isaacs' take on the music:

To someone raised on the 1951 monaural original cast recording of The King and I, with its muffled orchestra and Gertrude Lawrence’s limited singing ability, the opportunity to hear the score in a theater with a full orchestra in the pit was not to be missed. The current production by the Lyric Stage does not disappoint. In fact, if you are one of the rare birds attending to hear Robert Russell Bennett’s orchestrations, there isn't a better opportunity.

The design of the Carpenter Performance Hall puts the orchestral pit right in the lap of the audience—"orchestra seating" takes on a whole new meaning. Fortunately—or unfortunately depending on your opinion of this now-ubiquitous practice in the musical theater—the amplified actors can still be easily heard, freeing the pit to observe the actual dynamics. Bennett’s orchestrations are ably played by the pit orchestra and conductor Jay Dias gives us a most convincing reading of the score. In fact, his ability to precisely coordinate singers and orchestra is one of the stars of the show, and no easy task in spots such as the complex ballet in the second act.

Reviewing the orchestrations might seem like an odd use of a critic, but it is most appropriate in this case. Music Director Dias has spent many hours digging through the Rodgers and Hammerstein archives to produce a completely restored performance of the original Bennett orchestrations. Thus, this performance is billed as a “world Premiere” of the restored score. Arguably, the world premiere was in 1951. A second “world premiere” would need to present a re-orchestration—say, for oom-pah band (perish the thought). When you consider all the years of work that has gone into recreating this score by going back to the original parts and sketches, however, this first performance of the fruits of this tedious and painstaking labor certainly deserves accolades.

World re-premiere, perhaps?

The orchestration is certainly a revelation. Bennett makes the most of the forces available to him. He divides the violins into three parts for added richness. Flute doubles on piccolo, oboe doubles on English horn, clarinet doubles on bass clarinet, and the brass use a collection of sound-changing mutes: harmony, straight, and cup—each distinctive in sound. Many of these doublings and mute changes were among the most interesting of the treasures discovered in the original parts. The harp is busy for the entire score, even though the glissandi on final chords borders on overuse and reminds this listener of Leroy Anderson. At least we are spared a “stinger” chord at the end of each selection—which would imply that we had reached a thrilling conclusion and impair the flow of the score.

The lower voices of an orchestra are its foundation and Bennett’s use of two basses in the strings and a tuba in the brass are vital in the creation of that full orchestral sound. The tuba presents an occasional balance problem that is inherent in the instrument, since it is the only one that points up, but the score would be poorer without it. Besides, the conductor and the player do an excellent job of minimizing the problem. Three French horns are a luxury that Bennett maximizes (two is more the norm). Other effects, such as having the brass play “into the stand” to make the sound seem distant and muted strings, add to the coloristic quality of the score.

For the ballet, a Jerome Robbins masterpiece that gives an Asian take on Uncle Tom’s Cabin, a third musical collaborator is responsible for this remarkable part of the score. A dance composer by the name of Trude Rittman was brought in by Rodgers create the ballet music. Her piano sketch, made in close collaboration with Robbins, was then orchestrated by Bennett.

For anyone who has experienced the Chinese Opera, the roots of this ballet are obvious. The squeal-like vocalizations, onstage percussionist and highly stylized dance steps are typical. The music can sound disjointed to the uninitiated ear. A “Westernization” of that style works beautifully in this context as Ms. Rittman weaves the bits of thematic materials from the show into a crazy musical quilt. Handed off to Bennett to translate into an orchestration, he pulls out all the stops to create a self-contained marvel. When the Robbins choreography, also inspired by the Chinese Opera, is added—well, it is worth the price of a ticket in itself.

So, who was Robert Russell Bennett? He was a composer, trained by Natalie Boulanger in her Paris studio that contained the likes of Aaron Copeland, Igor Stravinsky, Ned Rorem and Virgil Thompson. However, his compositions are largely forgotten (one piece for band is occasionally resurrected with uninspiring results). It was in the vital but ungrateful job of arranger and orchestrator that his name lives on—unfortunately; only in the minds of the Broadway buffs as evidenced by his special Tony award in 2008 (too bad he was long dead when it was presented). But fame aside, for an entire generation, Bennett was the sound of the American musical.

Here is a  partial list of the composers with whom he worked:

• Rudolph Friml (Rose Marie)
• Vincent Youmans (No, No, Nanette)
• Jerome Kern (Show Boat; Roberta; and Very Warm for May)
• George Gershwin (Of Thee I Sing and Porgy and Bess)
• Irving Berlin (Annie Get Your Gun)
• Cole Porter (Kiss Me, Kate)
• Burton Lane (Finian's Rainbow)
• Kurt Weill (Lady in the Dark)
• Richard Rodgers (Oklahoma!; Carousel; South Pacific; and The Sound of Music)
• Frederick Loewe (My Fair Lady and Camelot)

In closing, I would like to pose a question. How much of these musicals was the work of the credited composer and how much was Bennett’s? As an opera composer myself, it would be inconceivable to turn the orchestration over to someone else. Those that have meddled in operatic re-orchestrations, such as Rimsky Korsakov “fixing” Boris Godunov, are now on the receiving end of tongue-clicks by the cognoscenti. Can you imagine Verdi asking a ballet music expert like Rittman to come in and compose the ballet music for Aida? The thought is madness. However, we cannot measure one art form by another’s yardshtick. Even Bernstein, a master orchestrator himself, called in Sid Ramin and Irwin Kostal to assist with West Side Story. That was just how it was done at the time.

Sitting in the audience while the newly restored The King and I unfolds before us, it is a difference without a distinction. Rodgers' songs have become part of the cultural heritage of the 20th century and, under his watchful eye, Bennett took these thematic materials and turned them into a show. The fact that Rodgers name is on the front of the program is just something that all arrangers and orchestrators have learned to shrug off a long time ago.

Gregory Sullivan Isaacs is Composer-In-Residence and Principal Guest Conductor for The Living Opera. His works include Henry Faust and Emily: The Yellow Rose of Texas, which will have its world premiere in 2010. You can read his full bio on his Website.