Tawdry sentimentality is alive and well at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane in London as Miss Saigon continues to play to packed houses. A hybrid of Romeo & Juliet, Liat and Lt. Cable in South Pacific, and Les Miserables, Miss Saigon pales when compared to any of the above. Because the show is housed in a theatre boasting three and a quarter centuries on the same site, the oldest theater in the world still in continuous use as a playhouse, and because Saigon is penned by the Les Miz team of Alain Boublil and Claude Michel-Schonberg, I expected something more substantial. But since it's produced by Cameron Mackintosh, Saigon's techno-glitz (a helicopter lands on stage behind a scrim) comes as no surprise. But the stuffy, unairconditioned theater and stench of tobacco in all the common areas totally detracted from any merit the $48 per ticket show might have had.
Miss Saigon opens in a bordello where new girl Kim has a one-night-stand with an American Marine, Chris, who visits her establishment. Kim's father had long ago promised her to fellow countryman, Thuy, but she and Chris get married anyway -- despite Chris' wife back home. When Chris ships out, Kim's pimp, The Engineer, helps Thuy find her; but alas, Kim, now a mother, remains true to her Marine. All this transpires over a four year span (never mind that the play opens in 1975 and we meet the son in 1978 -- yet he appears to be four to six years old!).
Despite some very good music and excellent acting, Miss Saigon doesn't live up to the hype. It's all glitz and formula, awash in cheap sentiment.
