Broadway is not blind. In fact, it is exceptionally perceptive. Decades of experience, along with the expert know-how, have shaped its exceptional insight to discern “hot” from “not,” the theatrical flare enveloped in a thick coat of inexperience, waiting to see the light.

Each year, numerous productions are introduced, each of various ethnic and historic background. Yes, it is a revolving door, meaning only some manages to stay. To have a glamorous debut, to have a play plastered to sides of tall buildings, shrouded in dazzling neon lights, is a privilege of the fortunate few. Most playwriters tatter back to a off-road county where their Broadway dreams are then locked up in a trove of misgivings. Nonetheless, when those few fortunate selections feature a racially inclined plot, misrepresentative cast, and politically obtuse producers, broadway is set ablaze.

Take Miss Saigon, one of the “Big Four” productions in musical theater, rivaled by none other than Phantom, Cats, and Les Miserables. Despite its noted fame, Miss Saigon has long been accused of perpetuating a “White Knight” stereotype: staged during the Vietnamese War, featuring a Vietnamese Kim rescued from the squalid desolations of war by a white, American soldier(modern equivalent of a knight). 17 year-old, orphaned, believer of true love, Kim falls in love with Chris at first sight(at first sight! talk of love’s sophistication!). Chris promises their life together in America, a promise unfulfilled due to the army’s sudden withdrawal. Kim is stricken with the sorrow of his abrupt departure yet chooses to care for his son, while Chris moves on – a new life and a new wife. The audience is moved to tears while I, a teen musical fanatic, is vexed by the Asian blood pulsing in my veins. Miss Saigon is mind-numbingly color-aware.

Surely, Miss Saigon is captivating. I was more than once arrested by the exotic tune, charismatic vibe of theater prodigies, and over-the-top props that will last well into decades to come(After 25 years, the real-size helicopter and its stately descent remain the Broadway icon). Throughout the play, I savored each and every detail with gusto. It was only after the curtains drooped, loitering about the theater in mingled impression of satiety (Yes, I’d give my life to this moment) and wanting more (why god why can’t it be just a few more minutes?) that I was finally disillusioned of the Broadway magic.

I gave some serious thought as to why this play appealed to me in such a strong manner, to so many people as well, across so many countries. The fabulous orchestrated music, of course, played a huge part. No doubt the characters were well constructed: not too shallow to appear sham or ungenuine, yet not too deep or serious in meaning to feel pedantic or off from a book. In such regards, the Engineer was true star of the show. “American Dream” as his credo, he will do anything to “die in bed.” That includes running a Vietnamese brothel, selling himself short with lies and stratagems, wearing a facade of ludicrous servility to veil his tragic childhood(his mother was a prostitute). The half-caste’s lines are, to be honest, vulgar, poking fun at sexual impotency of Asian men, and appeals of Asian women. Once Kim’s employer, he abruptly transforms to her aid, instilling in her a ironclad belief that her son Tam ought to be raised in America. America was where we all ought to be! Kim, hauled by this belief, pulls the trigger on herself, leaving Chris no choice but to return to the states with his son and his discontented wife. Through his actions, The Engineer creates a terribly distorted chimera: American men are the shining knights and Asian men are their jocund porters, served on the side.

Fortunately, the theater community cared enough to intervene. The play was put at risk of being canceled, on numerous occasions, for featuring white Caucasian soldiers playing Vietnamese’s roles(subtlety is not Broadway’s strongest merit). Her, the questions arise. Is Miss Saigon a plain eulogy to the light of western civilization? Or, is it an elaborate diatribe of downright racism and cultural toadyism? Its one-dimensional plot structure might be a visage, to cleverly conceal profundity within. Whatever the case may be, one thing’s clear: Miss Saigon is not a typical White Knight story. Miss Saigon is special. Something ineffable about the highly predictable plot pleases us; the tragic beauty and brilliant gloom seeps within, soaking us completely.

Broadway’s namesake fame should reach deeper; there’s more to it than just flashy neon lights and grandeur of orchestrated music. It is the mecca for talented script writers and performers alike, and even its founders are unsure of what makes Broadway successful. It’s about time Broadway was disillusioned of its egotistical assumptions: the indescribable flush of emotions, the beauty of human life that blooms with its passing was not realized through Broadway magic but by multi-colored(Asian, Caucasian, you name it) passion.