MANALANG (WITH BRAMMER, RIGHT). Intuitively uses her small frame to make her character more vulnerable, believable and sympathetic.
It’s hard not to get drawn to the sweeping theatricality and larger-than-life drama of “Miss Saigon” in London—from the first moment you see 17-year-old Kim stepping into the spotlight as bombs explode around her, until the time she reaches for a knife after she gives her only child, Tam, away. Her ultimate act of parental sacrifice is something everyone with a loving family can relate to.
Kim’s romance with Chris (Alistair Brammer) may not be as long-lasting, but it nonetheless appears earnest. In fact, we could still hear a solo saxophone mournfully playing “Last Night of the World” and “Sun and Moon” in our head days after we watched the back-to-back performances of Eva Noblezada and Tanya Manalang, who alternate as the production’s tragic heroine in the current staging of the Cameron Macintosh musical.
We’ve never been one of the musical’s rah-rah guys, but we acknowledge how it has helped opened doors for many of our dear friends on the world stage.
Just the same, we must say that we’ve always found Kim’s naivete too “fatalistic” and unrealistic, holding on to the sugar-coated fantasies of living the American Dream after a night of passion with a white soldier—so, we’d much rather not romanticize this part of her story.
Moreover, Kim has remained too acquiescent to the whims of the duplicitous Engineer (played to cunning perfection by the Olivier-nominated Jon Jon Briones, whose performance is refreshingly devoid of Jonathan Pryce’s pomp and pageantry) even after she relocates to Bangkok, with the hope of reconnecting with the soldier who had promised her the sun, moon and everything else.
Life of its own
Even without focusing on the libretto, “Saigon’s” music has a life of its own. It effectively raises Kim’s troubles to operatic heights as it dramatizes the dire situations she and her countrymen face—and every difficult decision she makes.
This is where Eva and Tanya work their magic, delivering contrasting but similarly moving portrayals that hold the production in perfect stasis between something tragic and the irony-ridden “good” consequence that comes out of Kim’s sacrifice.
We’ve often been asked: Are Eva and Tanya better than the “original” Kims? If we compare them to the femme fatales who came before them, they’ll end up on the losing end, because they’re up against the “standard” that has been followed by every portrayal of the role anywhere in the world.
Suffice it to say that director Laurence Connor has cleverly chosen to make this incarnation darker, grittier and more intimate, even for its beleaguered heroine—as the musical’s spectacular but salacious opening demonstrates.
This time, Kim is less of a victim and is made of sterner stuff, because she doesn’t just follow where the winds of change take her—she resists before she acquiesces, then insists that Tam is entitled to the better life she sees for him!
Eva carries the stature and bearing of this gutsier, “steelier” Kim with confidence—but, Tanya intuitively uses her small frame to make her character more vulnerable, believable and sympathetic, especially beside her “gigantic” beau, or when she clutches her beloved son in a tight embrace. And, hearing Kim’s songs gorgeously sung by two lovely but distinctly different voices is an added treat.
For her part, Rachel Ann Go (as Gigi) makes every second of her limited exposure count, singing the show-stopping ballad, “Movie in my Mind,” as if she’s just been jilted by her longtime lover—or when she’s just prancing on top of a car in the flashy “American Dream” number.
The second time we watched the show, half of the principal characters were performed by covers who weren’t bad but didn’t have the vocal bravado and stage presence of Briones, Manalang, Noblezada, Go and Tamsin Carroll (who portrays Ellen, who sings the musical’s only new song, “Maybe”).
This edition of “Saigon” isn’t a showcase for Filipino performers (Christian Rey Marbella, Ariel Reonal, etc.) as much as it is for its truly mixed Asian cast, which includes thespians from South Korea, Japan, Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia, China, Singapore, Australia and, of course, Vietnam.