The Show Still Lands, Even If The Helicopter Doesn’t – Miss Saigon at the Edinburgh Playhouse
Let’s start with the elephant in the room – or more accurately, the helicopter not on the stage. Yes, it’s true that this “reborn” tour of Miss Saigon has been adapted to fit into smaller national theatres than some of its previous grand incarnations. And yes, that means the famous chopper doesn’t make a full appearance. But let me reassure you: rumours of the show being “scaled back” are greatly exaggerated. The scene in question remains impressively staged, packed with as much tension, drama, and theatrical impact as the moment demands.
This is important context, because Miss Saigon – like its peers among the “mega-musicals” of the 1990s such as Les Misérables, Phantom of the Opera, and Starlight Express – became legendary for its monumental set pieces. The helicopter sequence was always its most iconic moment, a jaw-dropping feat of stagecraft that symbolised the excess and ingenuity of the era. But what this current production proves, decisively, is that Miss Saigon doesn’t need to rely on spectacle alone to be devastatingly effective.
I should probably admit my bias upfront: Miss Saigon is my favourite musical, I was obsessed with it before I was even high school age. I’ve seen it many times over the years, including, much to my delight, a performance in the mid-’90s at its original home, the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, with Simon Bowman as Chris. I’ve watched it evolve through various revivals and reinterpretations – and this latest ‘rebirth’ is one of the most successful yet.
Make no mistake though, the visual storytelling is still spectacular. Impressive backdrops and revolving sets are used with great success throughout and the design at no point ever feels thin or cheap. The Morning of the Dragon is particularly inventive – a stage full of ensemble members transformed into armed puppets, marching between billowing, water-like sheets in a hypnotic and unsettling tableau. The American Dream is also fittingly, gloriously over-the-top – a fever dream of stars, stripes and cynicism that perfectly captures the Engineer’s hopes of a better, if equally sleazy, life.
Some changes have also been made for more intimate, narrative reasons. The American side of I Still Believe now takes place at a military funeral, with Ellen and Chris surrounded by mourners. It’s a powerful choice that deepens the audience’s understanding of Chris’ PTSD and gives the song some added weight. A few tweaks to the lyrics have been made also, mostly to address some of the show’s more contentious language. For the most part, these are either for the better or so minor as to be unremarkable. A couple of updates (most notably in The Movie in My Mind) felt slightly clunky, but Miss Saigon has always evolved over time, and this version will no doubt continue to refine itself.
The real power of Miss Saigon lies in its emotional heart – a tragic love story inspired by Puccini’s Madame Butterfly. Written by Claude-Michel Schönberg and Alain Boublil, with lyrics by Boublil and Richard Maltby Jr., it first premiered in London in 1989 and quickly became a phenomenon. While it can be enjoyed at face value, it also serves as a powerful allegory for America’s role in the war itself. Through Chris and Kim’s doomed romance, it explores the human cost of foreign intervention, the moral compromises of war, and the lingering trauma left in its wake.
In this production, Julianne Pundan was extraordinary as Kim – my favourite, in fact, since Lea Salonga first defined the role in the original run, and I do not say that lightly. She brought the perfect balance of vulnerability and strength, making the character feel visceral and real. There can sometimes be a tendency to cast the role as a glamorous vocalist rather than a believable young survivor, but Pundan has exactly the right kind of natural charisma, tenacity, and emotional depth for the part, as well as astonishingly powerful, flawless vocals throughout. It’s hard to believe this is her professional debut.
Seann Miley Moore also gave a standout turn as The Engineer – a camper, sexier, and more energetic take on the pernicious pimp than usual (‘hot Engineer’ was not on my bingo card for 2025), but one which only served to make the nastier moments all the more chilling. A performance you couldn’t take your eyes off – Miley Moore is magnetic, funny, repulsive, and oddly sympathetic all at once – a classic anti-hero, and a great reinventionof the role.
Strong performances by Jack Kane as Chris, Emily Langham as Ellen and Mikko Juan as Thuy round out the principle roles along with Dominic Hartley-Harris whose turn as John perfectly traverses the character’s journey from saxophone playing playboy (somewhat channeling Erik King in this section of the show) to the more thoughtful, reflective man we find seeking atonement in the second half. His rendition of Bui-Doi was as beautiful and stirring as I’ve ever heard it.
Ultimately, while the infamous helicopter was a spectacular sight, it’s not the heart of Miss Saigon. The true key to its enduring success lies in its emotional core – the human cost of war, love, and loss – captured so successfully by Boublil and Schönberg’s incredible score. If you leave the theatre only thinking about the missing helicopter, you’ve missed the point – and, frankly, you might be dead inside.
Getting this wonderful cast and stunning production out to a wider range of theatres can only be a good thing, and if you have the chance to see it, do not hesitate – you absolutely should.
All words by Susan Sloan.