Opening Up: Miss Saigon- “The Heat Is On in Saigon”

When questioning the value of an opening song, there is a need sometimes for a surprise, to take the audience out of their comfort zone. For me, that was “The Heat Is On In Saigon” from Miss Saigon. I knew very little about the show going in other than that it was probably about The Vietnam War, and there would be a magnificent helicopter set-piece. I knew that it was considered a masterpiece, serving as one of the longest-running Broadway musicals in history. Outside of this, the show would be new to me, mostly built on the enthusiasm that I had personally with Claude-Michel Schönberg and Alain Boublil’s previous show Les Misérables which, with very little hyperbole, is one of the best shows to ever grace the stage.

The thing is that it’s impossible to talk about Miss Saigon without acknowledging a lot of things that may sound contradictory. While I will fully confess that I really liked the show and that it managed to move me to my core, I am also a white male who has some distance from the controversy. I did not live through The Vietnam War nor have I had to deal with decades of negative stereotypes, as embodied with the oversexualized martyr (Kim) or greedy opportunist (The Engineer). I’d even go so far as to acknowledge that it’s difficult for this show to be authentic because of its divisiveness and thus can’t be a totally Vietnamese cast. 

That is one of the issues that comes with assessing this work. Before I dive into what I love about the show, I want to acknowledge that the biggest issue is that because of the lack of Vietnamese stories on Broadway, this may be many’s only representations. Similar to other Asian-themed musicals like Flower Drum Song, Allegiance, Soft Power, and Pacific Overtures, they don’t make the rounds often. While The Vietnam War has been diligently covered by western media, for better and worse, the Vietnamese perspective has often been reduced to something brutal and demolished. Without any bigger perspective, it is understandable to hate the idea that an entire culture is reduced to something degrading.

Which brings me to Miss Saigon as a show. Schönberg and Boublil claim that this whole show was based around a photograph of a mother making “the ultimate sacrifice” as she allowed her child to board a plane to freedom. Add in the framework for Madame Butterfly, and you get the gist of this show. 

I think that it’s difficult to fully make sense of “The Heat Is On in Saigon” from the minute that things start up. Many of us have certain expectations of a Vietnam War narrative. What is proposed here is something more abstract, and may get lost in translation for some. Schönberg and Boublil have gone on record as saying that they designed the intro as a way to deconstruct the stereotypes of the culture. It comes with the opening line “Welcome to Dreamland!” which is the name of the brothel, but a less-than-subtle cue that everything that follows is supposed to be symbolic and subversive. After all, the second song is called “The Movie in My Mind” and deconstructs reality from the fantasy that Kim imagined life to be.

But it’s an alarming sight nonetheless. The whole scene is designed as this massive orgy of objectification, having prostitutes lining up around American soldiers looking for sexual favors. In the dress alone, everyone is able to be distinguished from each other. The women wander around in bikinis, seductively dancing as soldiers talk about buying their pals a prostitute. There’s so much sexual energy in this scene that makes you understand what “the heat” actually is (they even comment on the smell). The bikinis are riding up their thighs and men are throwing women on their shoulders like cargo bags. It’s a wild scene.

But what can immediately be lifted from this scene? Much like Les Misérables, this feels designed like an expansive story when really it’s about a small collection of characters, this time symbolizing different ideals. While these are real characters with real motives, the Dreamland title should convey that the three main figures (Kim, The Engineer, Christopher Scott) actually represent something about The Vietnam War that was changed. Considering that Act II will open with “Bui Doi,” which highlights how America failed the war, it’s doing everything to paint a bigger picture.

And it all starts in Dreamland. 

There’s plenty to distinguish the three even amid the crowd. The most noteworthy off the bat is The Engineer. All he needs is the opening line to suggest that he’s our narrator of sorts, dressed in these dark colors that clash with everything around him. The way he carries himself has an air of confidence, a manipulation to sell his Vietnamese culture to America for personal gain. He reduces them to body parts, to pleasure, constantly laughing as he’s handed bills of money. He raffles them off, claiming that the right soldier could sleep with Miss Saigon.

Christopher may be the hardest to pick out immediately for the simple fact that he’s dressed like the other soldiers. However, Schönberg and Boublil do an excellent job of making him stand-out as the only man who doesn’t want to be in the brothel. He feels disenfranchised by the war and just wants to leave. He doesn’t want to leer and take advantage. It all feels so perverse, disingenuous. He is the morality of the American spirit, mostly there because of the draft.

Then there’s Kim, who feels lost in the crowd at first but eventually comes forward. Soldiers want to fondle her, but she is the one figure who is taken loose. Whereas the other Vietnamese women are scantily clad, she is dressed in a white gown, symbolic of purity, that holds her back. She is 17, a barmaid who represents the culture as something worthy of preservation, of not bastardizing with American manipulation. Even as she captures the perspective of Christopher, they both love each other because they’re the best that these opposing cultures have to represent.

More than anything, that is what makes “The Heat Is On in Saigon” a big number to unpack. While it exists in a terrible stereotype of prostitution, the intent of the creators was meant to be this richer conversation about how the war tore away the identity of Vietnam through this epic, emotional tale that finds Kim giving birth to her son Tam, representing the future of the country that is fragile but necessary. 

The big issue for some will likely be that these are, in fact, stereotypes. While they’re used with brilliant character development, there’s a reason that it’s controversial. The war by itself was awful, but the culture that formed around it is uncomfortable and sometimes destructive. The Vietnamese are only ever seen as victims, and this story doesn’t exactly change that. It doesn’t do anything that changes the narrative for the better, at least without doing a deep dive into the symbolism that may go over some people’s heads. With that said, it’s unfortunate that this is one of the few war musicals from the Vietnamese perspective, and it opens with a song that finds a prostitute saying “I’ll show you my special trophy of war.”

But, if you meet Miss Saigon on its terms, it becomes clear why they decided to open the show with this number. Beyond the symbolism flying fast and loose, it allows for the characters to be introduced in such a fashion that you don’t even know that you’re being introduced to them. If you had to guess, one of the prostitutes (Mimi, Gigi, Yvette, or Yvonne) would be the protagonist because she “wins” the Miss Saigon title. Instead, the real characters are introduced atmospherically, existing as commentators on their environment.

It’s two cultures at war, only in this case it’s one that challenges the dignity and humanity of its characters. The Engineer lacks any soul and is tempting Americans to give in to their worst tendencies. He is the most direct example of a divide, telling the audience to take advantage and rile in his culture. Kim and Christopher represent the moral good in both, and also the most evident of something representing political commentary. They’re the ones who suggest that this is a war that not everyone wants to face, and yet everyone is submissively forced into danger’s way. As Christopher would sing midway through the song, he’s starting to get bored with the surface-level pageantry:

The meat is cheap in Saigon

I used to love getting stoned

Waking up with some whore

I don't know why I went dead

It's not fun anymore

This precedes a part where Kim is introduced while listing off a series of character traits that endear her to the audience. Whereas everything around her is gross and crass, she has a purity to her that makes her stand out. Before “The Movie In My Mind” gives her a more expressive platform, her choice to comment on how she wound up in this brothel likely speaks to the heart of these other prostitutes, who likely were young and pure at one point. It comes through in lines like:

I'm Seventeen and I'm new here today

The village I come from seems so far away

All of the girls know much more what to say

But I know, I have a heart like the sea

A million dreams are in me

Already there are these series of pushes and pulls between every character both between cultures and within their own identities. There is this concern that the war is going to tear them apart, leaving no trace of identity left. The Vietnamese are being devalued, and all while Americans comment that “The Cong is tightening the noose.” There is little respect for culture. They’re only there to fight the war. Christopher meanwhile is trying to see the humanity in these figures, and it paints an entertaining divide.

One has to ask themselves if there was a more appropriate way to write a musical about The Vietnam War from dual perspectives, but mostly from Kim’s. I will confess that while I was able to piece together what every character symbolizes, “The Heat Is On in Saigon” can be a bit jarring to anyone just looking for straightforward theater. It’s a show that’s so dark that it was one of the few theatrical experiences I had to print a warning about violence on the actual ticket. This is clearly designed for more mature audiences, and I think that it works. From the moment things open, you’re already fighting your own perspective as to whether this brothel is meant to trivialize or embrace the tacky exploitation. Is it funny, or is there a bigger message being said?

I understand if Miss Saigon is not your favorite show. Frankly, it would seem less problematic if there were even two or three other big musicals with Vietnamese protagonists to pull from. Instead, this is our sole representation. I frankly believe that it’s damning of the whole experience, suggesting that Americans deserve some blame for their actions of destroying Vietnam’s identity. Still, it plays into just enough tropes that it can bother those who are more directly impacted by the war’s legacy. For what it’s worth, the show doesn’t take long to determine whether or not it will be for you.

As an opening song, I think it does a great job of representing what the story that follows will be about. I love that Schönberg and Boublil have these gifts for making the mission statement more atmospheric before slowly zooming in, allowing these characters to speak for themselves. Given that they’re French composers, I’d argue that the discussion should be shifted a little to symbolize an outsider’s perspective, but even then this delivers all of the melodrama and discomfort that the show will have going forward. It may take a few minutes to get adjusted to everything, but once you do, the story will get much more wonderful, human, and eventually sad. It’s a towering epic that overwhelms you, for better or worse, and isn’t that what all effective art should do?