Magic Missing from Anna and the King
By Justin Lowe

Halfway through Anna and the King, movie-goers may begin to feel as adrift as Anna Leonowens, the British schoolteacher who went to the 1860s court of Siam to instruct the monarch’s 58 children. Like Anna, one may sense that all is not quite right with this epic cultural clash between a Western widow and an Asian king.

There’s no question that Anna has a tough act to follow -- a 1946 version implausibly starred Rex Harrison as King Mongkut of Siam (now known as Thailand) and the definitive 1956 movie musical with Yul Brynner in the lead was based on the often-reprised Rogers and Hammerstein Broadway hit.

What hasn’t changed in this classic tale, however, is the essentially colonial attitude toward Thai culture that inevitably burdens every rendition of Anna Leonowens’ experiences.

Born and raised in British India, where she married a clerk who died when Leonowens was still in her 20s, Anna was the fourth in a series of schoolteachers hired by the court of Siam to instruct the royal household in English, history and science. She subsequently chronicled her four-year service in two books and toured on the lecture circuit after leaving Thailand.

Her story was reinterpreted in 1941 by novelist Margaret Landon in Anna and the King of Siam, which became the basis for both the 1946 and 1956 productions, as well as the Broadway musical.

For more than 50 years Leonowens’ presentation of Siam’s history, culture and royal family has served as the basis for many Americans’ impression of “exotic” Asia.

Not surprisingly, her Western interpretation is riddled with inaccuracies -- and falsehoods -- about Thailand.

In fact, it’s highly unlikely that as a foreign woman, she would have had any significant access to King Mongkut and certainly, she would not have served in an advisory capacity in matters of state. Indeed, she never did develop anything resembling a romantic relationship with the king.

More reliable historic sources indicate that Leonowens, and later Landon, fabricated many incidents to inflate the schoolteacher’s importance. It’s improbable that King Mongkut, who studied both English and Latin prior to Anna’s arrival and successfully safeguarded Siam from the formidable British and French colonial maneuverings, was politically or romantically swayed by an English teacher.

What’s more, the supposition is also deeply offensive to the Thai people, “because it caricatures His Majesty King Mongkut in such a denigrating and condescending manner” as the Thai ambassador to the U.S. wrote in 1997. Both stage and screen versions of The King and I are still banned from public exhibition in Thailand and the newest version gives Thai authorities little reason to change that policy.

Much of Anna and the King, based upon the diaries of Anna Leonowens, remains essentially unchanged from earlier renditions -- even down to details of dialogue -- with the exception of an absence of song and dance numbers, and the addition of a treasonous subplot that adds some welcome momentum to the film.

Anna differs principally from its predecessors by replacing a lighthearted approach with a somber tone more befitting a tragedy than a romance.

Looking rather tired and worn, Jodie Foster (Contact, Silence of the Lambs) plays the English schoolteacher hired to educate the prince of Siam. Arriving from India with her son and an overwhelming load of personal baggage exceeded only by the extent of her Victorian wardrobe of voluminous skirts and fancy hats, she is surprised to be given charge of schooling the entire royal family of nearly 60 children.

Plucky Anna accepts the challenge, but finds it more difficult to reconcile herself to the reality that the Siam governed by King Mongkut, is far more enlightened than she had believed.

As the king, Hong Kong star Chow Yun-fat is a vast improvement over Brynner or Harrison, reinvigorating Brynner’s bombastic interpretation of the role with gracious levity and firm control. To him, Anna is hired help, retained solely for the purpose of educating the household in the ways of the Western world. His imperious attitude and Anna’s hardheaded assertiveness signal that conflict is as inevitable as romance.

However, a narrative about the experiences of a schoolteacher is almost inherently short on drama; screenwriters and director Andy Tennant (Ever After) needed something more than schoolroom spats and domestic upheaval to enliven the plot.

As a result, the role of Tuptim, the royal concubine, has been expanded beyond the familiar subplot of tragic love and betrayal to include accusations of adultery, some incongruous courtroom drama and a double execution. Unfortunately, the considerable talents of Bai Ling (Red Corner, The Crow) as Tuptim are overshadowed by the growing romance between Anna and the king.

Another addition is a coup attempt masterminded by one of King Mongkut’s most trusted advisors, General Alak. As the traitor, veteran stage and screen actor Randall Duk Kim is adequate in the role, but neither the part nor his performance ever create much tension with the central characters. Even so, the added intrigue that invigorates the plot when the unconsummated romance begins to slacken the pace.

The absence of musical numbers will disappoint some and relieve others, but without them the narrative loses much of its momentum. Tenant’s direction is self-consciously unobtrusive, but leisurely to a fault -- the two-hour film is too long by at least twenty minutes and drags mightily through the middle. Fewer grandiose set pieces centered around river barges and elephant caravans would quicken the pace.

More problematic, however, is the scant chemistry between the actors. While Chow shows more range -- by turns regal, paternal or romantic -- Foster’s acting is particularly stiff and she seems to have little affinity with her co-star. Although the previous performances by Brynner and Deborah Kerr as Anna occasionally verged on caricature, they had a vitality and playfulness missing from Anna and the King.

Nevertheless, the film is a well-timed move for Chow, allowing him to demonstrate his versatility to viewers who have been unresponsive to his performances in American action films (The Corrupter, The Replacement Killers).

In this latest iteration, the filmmakers have made admirable and effective use of Asian actors and locations. The outstanding presentation by production designer Luciana Arrighi and a staff of costumers, animal trainers and Thai artisans -- animated by Caleb Deschanel’s richly lit cinematography and some subtle computer imagery -- has succeeded in recreating an impressive imitation of Bangkok’s royal palace in Malaysia, where the film was forced to shoot after being refused permission in Thailand.

While Anna and the King goes farther than any prior production to establish authenticity and credibility with an Asian locale and cast, it remains a rather unromantic romance. Ironically enough, even the presence of a superstar like Chow Yun-fat, whose films are hugely popular even in Thailand, seems unlikely to assure Anna and the King as much success as its predecessors.