Ms.
Saigon has been around for quite a while.
I had never seen it. I have
played some of the music in cruise ship production shows, because I recognized
a few tunes. I did not do any
mental preparation before seeing the show. I did remember upon seeing the people-filled lobby, it takes
some effort to absorb “live” musical theater. It never is like a movie, where you can just relax and enjoy
the drama. Navigating the other
patrons in my eyes is the largest obstacle to overcome when trying to enjoy a
play.
I
found out upon entering the theater the orchestra was on stage. “Oh. Chicago,” I thought. What was the purpose of that? Then I noticed there were virtually no
sets on stage. There were only
chairs on either side like two jury boxes or better yet, choir pews in a
church. For me this set the stage
for what was about to transpire. It
would not be a run-of-the-mill musical.
It would be more like a straight play with music. Then when the lights came down and the
music began, I realized it was an operetta. Like Les Miserable it was all music with no
spoken dialog. Then Jesus Christ
Superstar and Godspell came to mind.
It was kind of rock music with a little oriental flavor sprinkled
in. I didn’t like the first act at
all. The music seemed boring,
vanilla, and long-winded. It was
bad Andrew Lloyd Webber. I felt
the characters were portrayed accurately.
Then I realized I had to meet and build a relationship with each
character before I could begin to enjoy the show. First there was a stoic quiet seventeen-year-old Vietnamese
girl who was being forced to sell her body for money. How could I empathize with her without a better setting of
the scene? I realized Ms. Saigon
was a “Broadway” depiction of fairly serious subject matter. It was attempting to do two things,
reveal a truly dramatic story and entertain a theater audience. It was Chicago, Oliver, and Sweet
Charity in one. There were
similarities. First Engineer
reminded me of Fagen. Instead of
instructing degenerate boys how to “pick a pocket or two,” he was instructing
young Vietnamese women how to have sex for money. At the culmination of Act II he cemented the similarity to
Chicago. Engineer created a
prospect of the story with a rousing solo production number called “The
American Dream.” “This was the
lawyer in Chicago,” I thought to myself.
He was the comedic relief, calculated as such. That felt like an old television show with a clown coming on
intermittently to relieve the tension.
That works. Then Cabaret
came to mind. A narrator was hosting
the show. That also works. Immediately at the start of the show it
is necessary quickly to set the scene.
There is no foreplay for the drama. Ms. Saigon begins with a loud, aggressive, brothel scene
except the drama is being played in front of a theater orchestra. That was strange. It made it intimate. How could the mood be set for a sultry,
sexy, alluring whorehouse in this environment? It is a lot to expect your audience cold to warm up to such
an intent. People are eating or
working or just living, and then immediately they are projected lingerie-clad
young women gyrating on chairs.
Normally as an adult male I should enjoy this. In a “theater” show where I am more accustomed to serious
themes being explored, it was difficult to accept such a gratuitous
offering. I tried. Still because I am fourty-nine,
watching neighbor’s children doing local theater does not push my buttons. I watched the G.I.’s dance with the
girls and felt absolutely nothing of what they were intended to feel. It was like watching high school kids
spoon. I was too old and did not
have the time to waste dredging up a feeling that I knew would be
pointless. I watched
hypothetically as the main character seemed to fall in lust with the young
seventeen-year-old Kim. I could be
sympathetic to the situation, because I too had done the same thing. I would never be so juvenile to fall in
love with a prostitute, because it wouldn’t be love anyway. It would be lust, or love based upon
physical desire. I have learned my
lesson over time that this is not love.
For a helpless G.I. stationed in Vietnam, it is plausible he could be
that naïve, like Radar in the television series M*A*S*H. To solidify their purely physical
attraction they kissed a lot on stage.
I find this also difficult to watch, because it does my psyche
absolutely no good whatsoever. Why
would I want to watch this on stage?
It is personal and boring to me.
I
began to understand the story as it approached the conclusion of the first
Act. Then a completely new and seemingly
strange Tinkerbell-like character stepped from stage right. She appeared while Kim reflected at her
miniature romance alter which appeared repeatedly throughout the show. Now there were two Kims, but one was
wearing a black negligee and was surreal.
Upon reflection Ms. Saigon did attempt to offer you clues to its
disguised unfolding story. That
was smart but also needed. The
music was not sufficiently strong to carry the play without sets. It needed an ensemble of things to
bring it off, and some of that was sheer effort. Without getting distracted I must admit I was grievously
disappointed in the pianist. (Being
a professional pianist myself for the last ten years aboard cruise ships, I am
equipped to be able to make a value judgment about musicality.) I felt the rest of the orchestra was
capable, but this man failed to deliver the goods at the keyboard. He did what most every pianist is doing
these days, skating over the performance with no tactile connection to the
piano. His sound was thin, devoid of
tone and bass, and flaccidly performed.
His limp waving wrists proved there was no physical connection to the
music, only cognitive. You could feel it. Better yet you could not “feel” it, because there was
nothing to feel. Admittedly he had
his hands full conducting the long and complex score. Trying to cover both bases is too much for one person, but
that often can get you the gig. A
solid, heart-felt piano performance was needed to bring the show up to CFRT
standards. I longed for both a
bass fiddle or guitar, and a solid, meaty piano sound. The piano truly was piano in this show,
too much so. It played a solidly
subordinate role to the overpowering woodwinds. That will be the drawback to placing your orchestra on
stage. I wondered again at the
logic of it. Did they not want to
deal with sets? The scenic
designer at CFRT is top notch. I
remember a scene from Miss Saigon in a ship show that had the couple in a
lofted treehouse- like bed. It was
effective. This truly was a
strange setting. The sound quality
was poor. While the actors did
need to be miked to be heard over the on-stage orchestra, the sound quality
through the speakers was both harsh and often distorted. I came to realize the show could have
been produced acoustically. That
would have been fine. By the end
of the second Act, volume levels did reinforce this was a rock opera.
After
suffering through the first Act, finally I began to be able to “feel” what was
happening in the show. It was a
tough nut to crack and more attempts are needed to polish this retro
piece. I never thought a sole alto
saxophone would provide the much needed warmth the show required to be
intimate.
