ANNA AND THE KING OF SIAM

New Zealand Listener, Volume 15, Issue 381, 11 October 1946, Page 32

ANNA AND THE KING OF SIAM

(20th. Century Fox)

/E have had. -the medical, «=the religious, the psychiological, and various other cycles inthe cinema. Indeed, in the more precise colloquial sense,

it would be correct to say we have "had" them. Now, it might seem, we are on, the fringe of a ‘pedagogical or teaching cycle. As is inevitable in such cases, the earlier examples of the trend will be the more exciting; soon, I am afraid, the dréary imitative process will be under way, and it will probably not be long before we are becoming as sick of schoolhouses and schoolteachers as we now ate of. consult-ing-rooms and neurotics. Meanwhile, however, the prospect is not: unattractive. Education, the "romance of mirid meeting mind," is likely to provide entertainment at least as adult and stimulating as the romance of boy meeting girl. Perhaps I have insufficient evidence ¥ my prediction of a pedagogical cycle. I am basing it, however, on the appearance of two important new pictures in both of which the leading character is a schoolshistress, The ~ bas Green

(already reviewed) is an excellent drama set in fairly orthodox surroundings. Anna and the King of Siam is also excellent, but the setting is unusual enough to be correctly described as exotic. This film is based on Margaret Landon’s biography of Anna Leonowens, an English widow who went in 1862 to the court of King Mongkut of Siam to’ teach school to his children, and who became.a power behind his ‘throne. x * * S screen material, this biography contains certain great natural advantages, as well as a few serious inherent handicaps. Heading the assets is the spectacular setting, and Director John Cromwell makes good use of it. I am only surprised that he did not use technicolour to exploit to the full the barbaric splendour associated with an eastern potentate who went by such resounding titles as Disc of Light, Lord of Life, Brother of the Moon, Half-Brother of the Sun, Arbiter of the Tides, Possessor of the Four-and-Twenty Golden Umbrellas, and Commander. of. the White Elephants. "They run a bit to language here," confides the sea-captain who puts Anna Leonowens and her small son ashore at Bangkok. But though dazzled at first by

the magnificence of her surroundings in the Royal palace and harem, and a little disconcerted by the pagan ceremonial, Anna soon reveals herself a Victorian lady of strong character and purpose, capable of coping not merely with the education of the King’s 67 children (at a rough count) and his dozens of wives, but also with the imperious whims of her royal master himself. * * * HIS brings me to the film’s second outstanding asset: the mature and intelligent treatment of the relationship between Anna and the King of Siam. To a Hollywood director the temptation, and. even the pressure, to introduce a conventional love-interest must have been very great. It would have been exceedingly easy to do; and there are moments when you think the director is on the verge of giving way to temptation. In fact, however, there is not’ even a hint of either Young or Middle-aged Love in the whole picture, except in so far as it is incidentally and spuriously supplied by one! of His Majesty’s wives. Instead of our being asked to interest ourselves in the affairs of the heart of the two leading characters, what absorbs us in Anna and

the King of Siam is the clash and communion of their minds — the Englishwoman, conscientiously wanting to do her best in her strange job but standing on her dignity and her rights (partictilarly her right to a home outside the palace); and the autocratic, wilful young ruler, anxious to educate himself and improve his backward country, but unwilling to come down off his regal perch and accept guidance from a mere woman. It is a highly explosive situation, but Anna does gradually entrench herself in favour. The story of how she does it, how she becomes the valued friend and counsellor of the king and his adolescent son, and how she changes local laws and customs and introduces Western ideas into Siam is told with ingenuity, wit, and (on the whole) very good taste. Almost the only thing missing is the dash of satire which I think should accompany any tale about the introduction of Western civilisation to an Eastern community. .We are led to infer here that it was an uhmixed blessing. * * * O I come to the third of the film’s three notable assets: the performances of its stars, Irene Dunne and Rex Harrison. Miss Dunne acts with the dignity becoming a Victorian widow, but she also conveys the sense of humour and the forbearance essential to a woman in such remarkable circumstances as those which confronted Mrs. Leonowens. (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) Though it is a trifle disconcerting to find the cynical, philandering Rex Harrison of Blithe Spirit and The Rake’s Progress appearing now as a serious-minded Siamese (his first Hollywood role) he gives an earnest and consistent impersonation. If he fails to be wholly convincing it is not for want of trying, but because of the fact that it is virtually impossible for Occidentals to portray Orientals. successfully. This is, indeed, the one insuperable handicap of the whole film, and of all films like it. Under his make-up and exotic costumes, and headgear, King Mongkut is unmistakably Anglo-Saxon; his Prime Minister (Lee Cobb) is an admirable fellow, but he looks like a Varsity full-back or a surf champion; and Linda Darnell, as the Royal favourite who gets herself burnt at the stake for a romantic indiscretion, resembles a Siamese girl only a fraction more than she resembles Sarah Bernhardt. Yet even supposing the producer had managed to assemble a whole cast able to act and look like true Siamese, there would still be the problem of the dialogue. The familiar device of getting all the players to chatter in broken English, with what may be a few authentic Siamese phrases thrown in, isn’t very convincing, but I don’t know what else they could do. In view of what I have said in the preceding paragraph, the Little Man’s stand-up clap may seem open to question. But these gradings are always relative. Instead of being blamed for defects which, for the most part, were inescapable, being inherent in the subjectmatter, I think the producers of Anna and the King of Siam should rather be given full credit for tackling such a difficult yet fascinating subject and for making such a very good job of it.