The story of Anna Leonowens and King Mongkut of Siam is unavoidable. Even if you've never seen The King And I, you know that the story centers on the culture clash between East and West and the song “Getting To Know You” comes from it. But there is much more to The King And I than the musical by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II and the movie that earned Yul Brynner an Oscar.
Leonowens was a real British woman who traveled to Siam, now Thailand, in 1862 to be governess for the King after her husband died. During the 1870s, she published two books about her time there with her son and introducing the curious King to Western culture. Even then, she included fictionalized elements and her story became even more fictionalized in 1944 when Margaret Landon wrote Anna and the King of Siam. Sensing that it was instantly popular, 20th Century Fox chief Daryl F. Zanuck snapped up the rights and by 1946, Anna and the King of Siam was in theaters.
Despite being much less well-known, the 1946 film is actually a better film than 1956's The King and I. Without music getting in the way, director John Cromwell is able to fully explore many of the plot points that come with the story. And the treatment of characters is extraordinarily different. Rex Harrison plays Mongkut as a nastier figure, with little time to allow his heart to shine. Irene Dunne has to match Harrison, so she plays Anna (given the last name “Owens” here) as a less naïve character. Sure, Deborah Kerr's Anna always stands up for herself, but Dunne gives one of the best performances of her underrated career as Anna.
The 1946 film has numerous little similarities and differences, but this column isn't meant to be a Venn diagram of the two films. Rather, I'll point out the biggest difference, which comes with the 1946 film's final act. Despite running a few minutes shorter, Anna and the King of Siam goes even further into the story, making the Mongkut's death feel a little less sudden. Anna and the King explores the time between Anna's decision to stay in Siam and Monkgut's death. Some incredible events during those years require fantastic acting from Dunne and other members of that sterling cast, including Lee J. Cobb as the Prime Minister and Gale Sondergaard as Lady Thiang. Anna's son actually dies (although Louis Leonowens outlived his mother in reality) and Anna becomes a mother to the King's eldest son.
Rodgers and Hammerstein only made Anna and the King of Siam into a musical at the request of the great stage star Gertrude Lawrence. But they, being the geniuses that they were, figured out that the story had many of the themes that they highlighted in their other work. It was another story they could use to prove that musicals can be as serious as plays. This feels like an even more drastic new direction on film. Consider that just two years before The King And I, director Walter Lang helmed the brighter-than-the-sun There's No Business Like Showbusiness. By adapting Rodgers and Hammerstein though, Lang shows that the musical is a style that can be used to tell a story, not a genre.
While the 1946 film does go further into the story, The King and I is better at exploring the theme of clashing cultures, even if it is from the perspective of the 1950s. Through serious songs, Rodgers and Hammerstein explore how Anna tries to prove to the King that embracing Western culture isn't about just becoming more knowledgeable of facts. But Anna also has much to learn from the King and Siamese culture. She sees firsthand how difficult it is to rule and how hard it is to make a fundamental change within oneself.
While Brynner's performance as the King is one of the best ever in a musical film, it's hard not to think about “The Small House of Uncle Thomas” when you think of The King and I. The ballet is central to the romance between Tuptim (Rita Moreno), a woman given to the King as a present, and Lun Tha (Carlos Rivera). Tuptim uses Uncle Tom's Cabin to show how wrong slavery is and openly admits her love for another man. The ballet is another piece that cements The King and I's greatness because it presents exactly what Broadway audiences saw. Jerome Robbins recreated his choreography, tweaking it to fit the CinemaScope frame.
The King and I's film version does cut out some of the songs and the sudden death of the King seems a bit... sudden. But what that death does, without a fully explained natural reason, is give even more importance to Anna's relationship with the King. We truly believe he is dying because Anna might not be there to advise him. (It's completely unrealistic, but did you think Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith was the first time a character died of a broken heart?) Kerr and Brynner display such incredible chemistry that their status as equals – not lovers – at the end makes the reality that one will be without the other more painful.
The King and I and its predecessor are both movies that can give us tears of joy and tears of sadness. “Shall We Dance” (bum bum bum) has us smiling, dancing in the theater. “Hello Young Lovers” has us reaching for tissues. “The Small House of Uncle Thomas” leaves us in awe and thinking. Yet, all that is only part of the reason why Anna and The King are inescapable. Their unlikely partnership still resonates and it's hard not to be pulled in by Brynner's commanding performance. “Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”