Hayley Mills is blessed with the Broderick Effect.
Let me explain. A few years back, Matthew Broderick made his musical-theater debut in ``How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying'' at the La Jolla Playhouse. At the time, this critic and others pointed out that while he oozed oodles of the cuteness that powers his movie career, Broderick was no Broadway triple threat. He had two left feet, and his singing voice was, um, something only a mother could love.
So what happened? Broderick won a Tony Award when ``How to Succeed'' went to Broadway, where it was a huge success. What do critics know anyway?
Mills is the first to admit she's no Julie Andrews. And her limitations are plainly even embarrassingly obvious in ``The King and I'' at the Orange County Performing Arts Center. But oh, that charm ...
While Mills' Anna is appropriately starchy and imperious, Mills injects enough of her Pollyanna-ish bubbliness to make an often stiffly Victorian character seem human, even girlish. She's delightful in some of the scenes where the English governess and the stubborn Siamese king square off in their frequent battles of wits. The sexual undertones of these encounters are nicely acknowledged by Mills and her co-star, Vee Talmadge.
But Anna must also sing indeed, she delivers some of Rodgers and Hammerstein's most famous tunes: ``Hello, Young Lovers,'' ``Getting to Know You,'' ``Shall We Dance?'' And here ... well, let's just say you have to be a big Hayley Mills fan to forgive her vocal transgressions.
Mills struggles with the basics intonation, support, tempo and phrasing are all problematic. It's distracting, occasionally even painful; to an ardent Rodgers and Hammerstein fan, it may seem downright sacrilegious.
Yet in fairness, it doesn't ruin the show. Mills' acting, though it skates along the surface of the role, is sincere and brimming with charm.
``The King and I'' depends just as strongly on its male lead, and Talmadge has created a king that's a worthy successor to though not a slavish imitation of Yul Brynner's signature role. Talmadge brings out the monarch's uncertainty, and there's no doubt, either, that this king is truly smitten with his English governess/political adviser. The ``Shall We Dance?'' scene, in which Anna and the king become aware of their mutual attraction, is as full of sexual anticipation as any version I've seen.
Supporting players, too, contribute to a generally cohesive and satisfying production. Luzviminda Lor captures the bitterness and sense of preordained tragedy that many actresses miss when playing Tuptim, a ``gift'' to the king from the neighboring kingdom of Burma, who is in love with a young countryman. Ricky Ullman is cute but not cloying as Anna's son, Louis (the same, unfortunately, could not be said of the Siamese children, who are little more than ``kootchy koo'' fodder).
Helen Yu is dignified and understated as Lady Thiang, the king's head wife, and she gives a beautiful, quasi-operatic quality to her character's big number, ``Something Wonderful.'' And Ian Stuart, playing both crusty Captain Orton and smoothly diplomatic Sir Edward Ramsey, purrs through the latter role like a well-tuned Bentley.
Visually, the production seems as luxuriant and exotically detailed as its Broadway counterpart. Costumes and sets capture an anachronistic, Hollywood- goes-to-Bangkok style that amuses for its ersatz qualities as much as it impresses for its sumptuousness. Jerome Robbins' choreography and Lar Lubovitch's musical staging seem faithfully preserved.
All in all, though, your enjoyment of this production hinges on a crucial question: Will you be swayed by the Broderick Effect or not?