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What's a director to do? Andy Tennant's previous film was the highly enjoyable Cinderella romance
Ever After, which vanished from theaters and became a video hit. Then Tennant made this gorgeous, nonmusical version of
Anna and the King, and once again felt the sting of box-office failure. Both films deserved better, and this
Anna is certain to eventually find the appreciative audience that eluded it in theaters. In many ways, this delightful costume romance transcends the latter-day quaintness of
The King and I to offer a more lavish and rewarding version of the story of Anna Leonowens, based on her diaries and first told in Margaret Landon's 1944 novel.
In an otherwise admirable performance (although many felt her miscast), Jodie Foster struggles with her Victorian accent as Anna, the grieving widow who arrives in Siam in 1860 with her young son. Having accepted a post as tutor for the many children of the polygamous King Mongkut (Chow Yun-Fat), Anna finds herself drawn to the progressive monarch, whose passions swirl in a turbulent political climate. If the chemistry isn't entirely there, this culture clash still has plenty of regal charm, and Luciana Arrighi's production design is appropriately magnificent. Humor and politics are given equal measure, and Chow Yun-Fat is arguably the most endearing king to date--powerful yet tender, forceful but anguished by the heavier burdens of leadership. Bai Ling's intense performance as the tragic lover Tuptim adds emotional depth to one of the most underrated films of 1999. --Jeff Shannon
From The New Yorker
To remake "The King and I" without the music is a risky enterprise, like leaving the bosoms out of a Russ Meyer flick. But Andy Tennant has stuck gamely to a tough job and made a moody, respectable epic that would have been even better if he had shortened it by three-quarters of an hour. Jodie Foster, doing her scary-intelligence number, plays the widowed Anna; Chow-Yun Fat, forsaking the firepower of his action movies for a killer smile, plays King Mongkut, who doesn't want some smart-ass Westerner telling him how to run the country or why he shouldn't remove the heads of those delinquent citizens who fall in love. In fact, the moral and political issues feel cloudy and unresolved; what stays with you is the elegant comedy of a romance that never quite comes to pass. -Anthony Lane
Copyright © 2006 The New Yorker
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