South Pacific: the Most Overrated Musical Ever

I wanted to like this show. Really, I did.

Although I've never been a big fan of South Pacific, I tried to enter the Vivian Beaumont with an open mind. I'm an ardent admirer of Rodgers and Hammerstein, especially Oklahoma!, Carousel, and The King and I, and in my Boston Conservatory course, I make it a point to identify Oscar Hammerstein as the single most important figure in the history of musical theater. I genuinely believe that, and I spend a great deal of time in my course pointing out the various contributions that Hammerstein, with Rodgers' able assistance, made to the musical-theater form:

- Songs that emerge seamlessly from the scenes
- Songs that progress the plot, illuminate character, and/or establish time and place
- Complex musical scenes rather than individual songs
- Shows that very clearly and quickly establish the dramatic tension 

I think because I'm so conscious of the innovations, I'm doubly aware of how South Pacific often doesn't reflect them, and in many respects represents a step backward.

Once the show itself started, I quickly knew that the Lincoln Center revival wasn't going to change my mind about the quality of the work. The opening scene begins the action in media res, which is not in itself a bad thing, but in South Pacific it's not clear at first what's going on between Emile de Becque and Nellie Forbush. Is she interviewing to be a governess? Is she there to teach the children English?

We eventually learn that they are a few weeks into their tentative love affair, but the scene is static, and the first three numbers emerge awkwardly from stilted dialog. "Cockeyed Optimist" is a particularly clumsy character song. Then comes "Twin Soliloquies," which admittedly does start to establish the dramatic tension, but it's a boring song, and ends with a quizzical crescendo that sounds like a finale ultimo. To add to the confusion, we next get "Some Enchanted Evening," which seems more of an 11 o' clock number than one we should be hearing 11 minutes into the show.

That's problem number one with the show: we don't really understand what's going on until about 45 minutes into the show. The racial-prejudice theme doesn't kick in until the end of act one, and once it does there's really nothing in Nellie's character that would make us think she would have such a bigoted reaction to the mother of Emile's children. Say what you want about Carousel, Oklahoma, and The King and I, but with each show you know in the first 10 minutes what it's going to be about.

After the opening scene, South Pacific continues with one lumbering song-setup after another: "There is Nothing Like a Dame," "Bali Hai," "Bloody Mary," etc. Then we get the most jarring succession of numbers in the show: "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair" followed quickly by "I'm in Love with a Wonderful Guy." Nellie does this big number about how she's getting rid of Emile, and then she turns on a dime and proclaims ecstatic love for him. Yeah, women can be fickle in their affections, but the show doesn't give enough justification for Nellie's caprice.

I must admit that I saw the show pretty early in previews, so I was left to wonder: is it the show itself I don't like or Bartlett Sher's glacial pacing? I found myself looking at my watch frequently throughout the evening. I wasn't engaged at all during most of the show, and I was only moved once or twice. The finale to act one was genuinely stirring, partly because the writing becomes more realistic, but also because of the sympathetic performances from Kelli O'Hara and Paulo Szot. I actually got chills, but these were the only chills I got from the show until "This Nearly Was Mine."

Things don't get a whole lot better in act two. "Happy Talk" sets a wildly inappropriate tone for the scene at hand: Bloody Mary is trying to persuade Lieutenant Cable to marry her daughter Liat, and there's a lot of sturm und drang in the scene, but the song is this blithe, idiotic, up-tempo ditty that does nothing to enhance the turmoil the characters are going through. Then Liat has this inexplicable dance break twirling around some kind of little flag thing. It was a real "Huh?" moment. Then we get a couple of deliberately non-integrated numbers at the Thanksgiving Day show: "Honey Bun" is fun but pointless.

Then, finally, comes an integrated series of numbers, a true R&H musical sequence, in the middle of act 2. Cable sings the powerful "Carefully Taught" about how prejudice isn't innate, but rather learned. The orchestration from this song leads into a bit of recitative from Emile, and then into the best number in the show, "This Nearly Was Mine," which Szot delivers magnificently. Finally the show is exhibiting the R&H innovations, but alas this doesn't last. What comes next is the clumsiest sequence in the entire show, in which we learn the fate of the mission that Cable and de Becque set out to accomplish. But I will admit that the finale ultimo to South Pacific is rather stirring. We find Nellie tending to de Becque's children, and singing a reprise of the cloying "Dite Moi," only to have de Becque finish the song for her as he appears in the doorway. It's a genuinely moving scene.

Kelli O'Hara is as lovely and charming as ever as Nellie, as always a bright spot in whatever show she's in. Paulo Szot is not only a magnificent singer and an affecting performer, he's also frickin' hot as hell. (But the hair and makeup folks need to go a little easier on the gray in his hair: the night I saw the show, it looked like they had painted his temples with that white polish for nurses' shoes.) Matthew Morrison is awkward and stiff as Lieutenant Cable, and really didn't conjure up much to be sympathetic towards. Danny Burstein, who was such a delight in The Drowsy Chaperone, fails to fully capture the humor and bluster of Luther Billis, although perhaps this will change as previews progress.

So, why did this show win the Pulitzer Prize? Beats me. All I can think of is the award committee must have been caught up in patriotism, the recency of the war, and the growing reputation Rodgers and Hammerstein were enjoying in popular culture. For me, the show isn't holding up very well, and simply can't compare with the true R&H masterpieces.

OK, so I've given the show a chance, and it just didn't work for me. Now please let me get back to worshipping R&H for their truly great shows, and for their unmatched accomplishments in progressing the musical-theater form. For the unfortunate irony of the Rodgers and Hammerstein revolution is that, after they created this new form of musical play, they seemed to forget how to put one together, leaving others to take up the R&H baton.

Comments

[SarahB]

Oh Chris.

[Jay Ell]

I always enjoy reading your posts, even when they give one of my favourite musicals a 'kicking'! In defense of South Pacific I always feel that it is one of the R and H shows that was so much influenced in its construction by the original leading lady of Mary Martin. Like DNA this original influence affects it now for all subsequent revivals. Try looking at the show as two powerful middle-aged men (R and H) writing a show about a young woman falling in love with a powerful middle-aged man and not quite understanding the mechanics of it all (a theme they perfected by the time of 'The Sound of Music'). Whenever I see it again I find that thought helps (although it wouldn't explain the excess of whitening on the temples of the actor).

[Rob Weinert-Kendt]

Chris: Thanks for your recent comment on my "Finian's Rainbow" post, in which you directed me to this takedown of "South Pacific." I responded here: http://thewickedstage.blogspot.com/2009/10/yip-yip-hooray.html#comments

[zed]

I've just discovered this blog so I hope you don't mind my scrounging through the archives and making an occasional comment. I love your opinions and knowledge, and I especially admire that you're willing to be openly critical of what most connoisseurs consider to be an untouchable giant. (I think "The Sound of Music" is absolute dreck and site the popularity of it's beautifully filmed movie to be the reason that so many of my generation think musical theatre is saccharine nonsense.)

I agree with so many of your criticisms of "South Pacific" but I must come to the defense of the "Cockeyed Optimist / Twin Soliloquies / Some Enchanted Evening" sequence. I find this scene to be on par with the legendary "bench scene" although perhaps not as musically consistent. "Cockeyed Optimist" has a lyric that resonates deeply with me as someone who refuses to believe that the world is getting worse every day. And the way Rogers raises the scale as the song builds to it's end (But I'm stuck like a dope with a thing called hope) gives me a visceral thrill every time I hear it; a prime example of Rogers being able to expertly match Hammerstein's lyrics. Exquisite writing.

I think "Twin Soliloquies" is as good of a musical representation of the "he/she is too good for me" feeling that we've all felt at some point that I've encountered. Where else is this feeling so well represented in song? (Perhaps "I should tell you" from Rent? . . . nah). I enjoy what you wrote about it and can agree that it can come off that way (ends with a quizzical crescendo that sounds like a finale ultimo) but I am always extremely moved when Nellie and Emile turn to each other and wordlessly realize that they are falling in love. This is an example of what music can do in theatre, even without words. That "finale ultimo" conveys what is in the hearts of these two people who, although insecure and afraid, have decided to let themselves be in love with other.

Then we get to "Some Enchanted Evening". A former boyfriend and I used to refer to overplayed songs as "Stairway to Heaven", being that he was a huge Led Zeppelin fan who felt he could go the rest of his life without hearing that song. (For comparison, I referred to "Send in the Clowns" as Sondheim's "Stairway to Heaven".) When I was young, I felt that way about "Some Enchanted Evening". I heard a lush romantic melody being bellowed by an operatic voice. When I re-listened with aged ears, I realized that the song is actually about the fear of being alone as you get older, the fear of missing out on the chance at love. Perhaps it was all the years of listening to Sondheim's middle aged ennui, but the song moves me deeply now. I would love to see an actor give the lyric "once you have found her, never let her go" an urgent tension, instead of just treating it like a romantic declaration (I did not see the revival).

Anyway, my $.02. I love reading your stuff!