South Pacific

I have never been a fan of the Broadway musical, at least in its so-called classic form, particularly exemplified by Rodgers and Hammerstein. There is something about them, such a complete lack of a cutting edge or hip quality, that pushes against me. Spending an evening listening to square songs accompanied by an inane story just gores my ox.

South Pacific falls directly in that camp. First produced in 1949, and winner of ten Tony Awards (it won everything it was nominated for), it had not had a Broadway revival for all these years, until Lincoln Center mounted one that is playing now, and which I saw on Friday night (a friend had an extra ticket and generously offered it to me). I had seen a production before, though, as when I was in college our theater department put one on in a craven attempt to put fannies in seats rather than stretch the artistic minds of us students. I have a faint memory of disliking South Pacific then, and I was reminded why I don't like it by seeing the Broadway revival.

I hasten to say that this production, directed by Bartlett Sher, bears no blame, in fact I can't imagine a better production. The fault lies squarely in the book and lyrics, by Oscar Hammerstein and Joshua Logan. They are, simply put, dreadful. Adapted from a book by James Michener, the story concerns Navy personnel stationed on a South Pacific island during World War II. Nellie Forbush, a nurse and self-described hick, is romanced by the mysterious French planter, Emile de Becque. Meanwhile, Lt. Joe Cable arrives on the island for a mission to access a spot on an island that will prove to be a good vantage point to spot incoming Japanese ships. While there he falls in love with an island girl.

Both of these romances involve mixed-race love, as de Becque has two children by his deceased wife, who was a Polynesian. When Nellie finds out her Arkansas values are shaken. Joe realizes his world back home in Philadelphia society would never tolerate a wife of Polynesian extraction.

Taking a look at prejudice in 1949 might have been a bit shocking, and it's certainly well-intentioned, but comes off as patronizing, the kind of limousine-liberal attitude that ends up trivializing the issue. While trying to excoriate racism, they end up reinforcing some stereotypes, particularly with the character of Bloody Mary, who sells trinket to the sailors and speaks in a sing-song voice. She is also the mother of the Cable's love, and pushes them together, basically pimping out her own daughter. It's extremely distasteful. It's also noteworthy that both of these mixed-race relationships involve white men with Polynesian women. I suppose it would have been too much to include a relationship between a white woman and a Polynesian man.

Besides the clumsy handling of racial issues, the dialogue is amateurish. When de Becque tells Nellie why he had to leave France, he says, with a straight face, "I killed a man. He was a wicked man." Not exactly Shakespearean. There are also some painful scenes involving the commanding officers of the island, who (no fault of their own) come off like kids playing war.

There is some good music in South Pacific, but not entirely. It has a passel of famous songs, like Some Enchanted Evening, There Is Nothing Like a Dame, I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair, Younger Than Springtime, Bali Ha'i, A Wonderful Guy, and This Nearly Was Mine. Rodgers clearly realized he had something with Some Enchanted Evening, as it pops up four or five times throughout the night. There are also some cloying numbers that recall nursery rhymes, like Dites Moi (sung by the two children) and Happy Talk. I can't consider this stuff classic music--give me Leonard Bernstein's West Side Story, which was much more daring.

The performers in this production were all wonderful. Kelli O'Hara, as Nellie, had a terrific light touch, and Paulo Szot was good as de Becque, a part always played by opera singers and therefore frequently by stiffs. Of course with most musicals like this it's the comic relief that steals the show, and this one is no different, as the character of Luther Billis, a schemer who probably inspired Sgt. Bilko, commands attention whenever he is on stage. The night I saw the show Billis was played by an understudy, Victor Hawks, and he was terrific. He is the center of the production number There Is Nothing Like a Dame, sung by all the sailors. It's a hard number to screw up, and these guys knock it out of the park. I would have preferred watching that over and over again rather than the rest of the show.