Review: Miss Saigon at the Liverpool Empire ****

It’s been two decades since Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg’s ‘Nam-set wartime weepie Miss Saigon last touched down on the Empire stage – practically the same length of time as the entire conflict lasted.

Has it been worth the wait for Liverpool audiences? It appears so.

But it’s not entirely the same creature fans of the dramatic retelling of the Madama Butterfly story may have encountered before, with Michael Harrison and Cameron Mackintosh – sharing producer credits on this latest UK tour – taking the show back, if not to basics, than certainly closer to its storytelling heart and rebuilding it to present a starker, grittier, less grandiose musical spectacular.

That doesn't mean there's not still spectacle, with Andrew D Edwards’ imposing two-storey set given the sense of scale it needs on the theatre’s huge stage, where it works in immersive harmony with striking and very effective lighting (from Bruno Poet) and sound design (Adam Fisher) and George Reeve’s projections.

The central structure is adapted, via revolves, hand-turned sections and video, to take us in turn to Saigon, then the States, then Bangkok.

As the Americans prepare to finally quit Vietnam for good, disillusioned sergeant Chris (Jack Kane – actor son of Huyton’s Sam Kane) finds himself among a group of randy Gis in a seedy Saigon nightclub run by the sleazy ‘Engineer’ (Seann Miley Moore), who has just co-opted a teenage innocent, Kim (Julianne Pundan), to his harem of ‘bar girls’.

Touched by her innocence, sincerity and frankly startling immediate devotion to him, Chris determines to take Kim with him Stateside when he’s evacuated.

But - plot spoiler - things don’t go to plan. And they continue to unravel, and those split-second decisions continue to reverberate, to the very end.

Above: Jack Kane as Chris. Top: Kane and Julianne Purdan as Kim in Miss Saigon. Photos by Danny Kaan.

Incredibly, Miss Saigon marks Pundan’s professional debut. I say incredibly, because she delivers an impressively mature and assured, and emotionally sensitive, performance as a young woman struggling to navigate a turbulent and dangerous world alone. She also has a powerful voice and a wide vocal range.

Meanwhile Kane is successful in channelling his character’s sense of confusion and guilt, although I worry for his voice – Chris is a big sing (Why God Why? being one example), and Kane throws everything at it to the extent that he begins to sound a bit husky before the end. I hope he's protecting those vocal cords.

Art imitates life, and real life wartime romances didn't hang around with the threat of parting always looming. But it does mean there’s frustratingly little opportunity for the two actors to build much really meaningful chemistry together before their characters are torn asunder.

And in fact, while Miss Saigon is undoubtedly a tale of great, enduring and ultimately sacrificial love, it’s the love of a mother for her child – winsomely played by Olive Bryan on press night – that proves the most steadfast, eternal and affecting.

Above: Seann Miley Moore as the Engineer with company in The American Dream. Photo by Danny Kaan.

If you’re looking for an antonym for ‘steadfast’ then look no further than the Engineer. Reprising the role following an international tour three years ago, Moore delivers a bravura turn as the conniving, opportunistic, Belial-tongued hustler whose instinct for survival makes him a dangerous character to cross.

The Emcee in Cabaret comes to mind in the sinister undercurrent running beneath what is a rip-roaringly flamboyant and definitely crowd-pleasing performance which sweeps all before it, reaching its zenith in the sassy, show-stopping, show-stealing The American Dream which threatens to leave you asking - Miss Saigon who?

Elsewhere, there’s more rousing work from the ensemble (one of whom is Empire Youth Theatre alumnus Jamil Abbasi, whom I’ve reviewed several times over the years), all supported by a buoyant orchestra in the pit.

It’s exemplified by the visually arresting The Morning of the Dragon, which announces the transformation from permissive Saigon to authoritarian Ho Chi Minh City ahead of the interval, and which has a distinct The Small House of Uncle Thomas-meets-Soviet Victory Day parade feel.