The King and I, Palladium, London — blazingly beautiful

The curtain alone is a treat. A shimmering, silken wall of reds and golds, sunsets and dawns, it ripples across the stage to disclose the kingdom of Siam, 1862, and Bartlett Sher’s blazingly beautiful revival of this Rodgers and Hammerstein classic (first seen on Broadway and now making its London debut). There isn’t a scene here that isn’t pleasing on the eye, sculpted by Michael Yeargan’s elegant court of pillars and screens. But more than that: Sher’s staging brings a level of nuanced intelligence to the troubling racial politics of the piece. It also features a sublime performance from Kelli O’Hara at its centre.

First staged in 1951, The King and I may have been progressive for its day, tackling, in Broadway musical format, issues of slavery and female equality. But its storyline — of Anna, a smart Victorian widow, who heads to Bangkok to teach the monarch’s children and enlighten both them, and him, in Western values — now feels uncomfortably colonial.

Sher’s production doesn’t overcome this entirely, but it finds depths, subtleties and ironies in the piece. It draws out the absurdity of western behaviour — the crinoline, the uncomfortable shoes, the obsession with manners — and the arrogance in the assumption that the only way to impress a visiting envoy and, through him, the western world, is by producing an English dinner. It highlights the determination of the king to retain his country’s independence by modernising it, and his own personal struggle to adapt.

Ken Watanabe’s King is a rich study of a man wrestling with change: he can be volatile and gruff, but also vulnerable and even playful. Both he and O’Hara’s Anna come over as sharp, witty individuals circumscribed by conventions. Their famous duet — “Shall We Dance?” — is a joyous release. And O’Hara is superb: she brings warmth, mischief and vibrant intelligence to the part. Her solo “Hello, Young Lovers” is simply spellbinding, wrapping the whole auditorium in the poignant memory of lost love, but she also lends quiet authority to Anna’s determination to be treated fairly.

Around them an excellent — and vast — Asian cast brings the court to life, while individual performances enrich and darken the themes: Naoko Mori’s Lady Thiang is a wise, watchful woman who successfully negotiates her position as wife to an autocratic monarch; Na-Young Jeon’s lovely, fragile Tuptim ultimately rebels against her position as “gift” to the king. The set pieces are spectacular. But most of all, this staging quietly homes in on Anna’s role as teacher and on the importance of different cultures learning from each other.

★★★★☆

Booking to September, kingandimusical.co.uk