The American soldier in this version is Chris Scott, sickened by the sleaze that is Saigon. Kevin Odekirk's Chris is filled with tension and unease, except when he's with the beautiful 17-year-old Kim (Jacqueline Nguyen). Only then does he feel human. Kim is attracted to Chris' upright stance, while Chris is fiercely protective of this unsullied child-woman. The music (by Schönberg), lyrics (by Maltby and Boublil), additional material (by Maltby), adaptation from the original French lyrics (by Boublil), and orchestrations (by William D. Brohn) all work to the same end: dunking us into the hell on earth that is Vietnam and the amoral cesspool that is Bangkok, then evoking a visceral sense of the devaluation of human life. The only comic relief, if you can call it that, is the presence of the Engineer, yet by the time the play is nearly over and he performs the kicky "American Dream," we're awash in overwhelming cynicism. If unbridled capitalism is the only thing worth living for, and true love is a literal dead end, what does that say about our values and our society?
Brian Kite's direction, John Glaudini's musical direction, Dana Solimando's choreography, and the show's visual and technical elements—Dustin J. Cardwell's set, Mela Hoyt-Heydon's costumes, Steven Young's lighting, Julie Ferrin's sound, Terry Hanrahan's props, and Kaitlin McCoy's wigs—combine to form a thoroughly satisfying whole in a production worthy of any Broadway stage. Nguyen's Kim is the story's tragic answer to Butterfly, a demure young woman who finds purpose in her love for Chris and their son. Odekirk's high-pitched, reedy tenor expresses Chris' struggle to reconcile his feelings for Kim with his new life back home as husband to Ellen (an impassioned Cassandra Murphy).
Changing from a silky purple suit to a flashy red-and-black ensemble, the Engineer is given a sly turn by Joseph Anthony Foronda, who limns a ruthless entrepreneur with chutzpah to spare. Kite's supporting players make the most of their minimal stage time. As Thuy, betrothed to Kim in childhood and now a Communist Party officer, Aidan Park is a controlling, obsessive loose cannon (not to mention having a screw loose). With its white-masked marchers and athletic, bare-chested dancers, the Communist parade is genuinely creepy, while the Bangkok scenes are sleazy yet perversely funny. Chris and Kim's wedding is moving, and the passions of Chris, Kim, and Ellen play at a feverish pitch that's pitch-perfect for the show's artistic goals and crisscrossing themes.
Presented by La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts and McCoy Rigby Entertainment at La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts, 14900 La Mirada Blvd., La Mirada. April 14–May 6. Wed. and Thu., 7:30 p.m.; Fri. and Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat., and Sun., 2 p.m. (562) 944-9801, (714) 994-6310, or www.lamiradatheatre.com. Casting by Julia Flores.














