South Pacific video goes south

In 1958, when I was a little girl of 9, my parents took me to see "South Pacific" at the Saenger Theater in New Orleans. The Saenger was a grand old Egyptian style movie palace, complete with elaborately painted plaster moldings, red velvet curtains and a surfeit of gold leaf. I loved going there, but we only did so for special occasions. My parents thought the New Orleans premiere of "South Pacific" was a very special occasion indeed, and it turned out they were right.

My father had been stationed in the South Pacific during World War II, as a Naval lieutenant in the Engineering corps, so I remember him being really excited about going to see the movie. As I sat there dutifully, hoping to please my father, praying not to fall asleep, the first soaring strains of the marvelous Rodgers and Hammerstein South Pacific overture filled the air. I was enchanted from that moment on.

For the next two and a half hours, I was transported to the exotic world of the South Pacific, where wild native dancers cavorted next to innocent French Catholic school girls. The one thing I always remember about the movie (other than falling head over heels in love with Rossanno Brazzi and the wonderful music) was the amazing Technicolor camera work. Surely, I thought, the South Pacific must be the most beautiful place on earth!

My family bought the sound track on an LP, about as close as you could get to reproducing a theatrical experience in those days before DVD and VCRs. My mother, a wonderful pianist, bought the sheet music, and soon had her three daughters lined up warbling "Dites Moi" in ragged harmony. My brother steadfastly refused to join in the chorus, preferring to hang out in his red metal riding fire truck. By virtue of being the only male child in the house, he also got out of the requirement of wearing one of our matching dresses, obligatory for female siblings in the 50s.

When CED (capacitance electronic discs) video discs first made their appearance in the early 80s, my spouse and I snatched one up. Soon, videophiles both, we were buying as many movies as we could afford on disc. "South Pacific" was one of my first choices. It was labeled, "A CBS Video Enterprises Presentation." Even though it was on two disks, necessitating three trips from the recliner to the video disc player to flip the disc so the movie could continue, I was every bit as enchanted as I had been back in that darkened theater in 1958.

Imagine my joy when "South Pacific" was listed among the series of classic musicals 20th Century Fox Home Video decided to release this year. They even included song books with lyrics to some of the most popular songs in each cassette box. I rushed to the store, bought one and rushed back home. I popped the cassette into the VCR, thrilled that I was about to view my first uninterrupted showing of South Pacific in more than 40 years.

Things started off well enough. I hummed through the overture, eagerly anticipating each scene. Then came the wonderful, "There is Nothing Like a Dame." So far, so good.

Then things went haywire. When Juanita Halls started to sing the seductive and haunting "Bali Ha'i," for some reason, she turned raspberry pink. Then the camera shifted to John Kerr, who was blueberry blue. Then back to Juanita, who had turned orange, and then yellow. Then the music stopped, and the color returned to normal.

I sat there scratching my head, thinking I had a defective video cassette, but soon was lulled back into happiness by the sheer entertainment flowing from my TV screen. Suddenly, Rossanno Brazzi filled the screen. My heart started pounding, my palms got sweaty and I gripped the armrests of my recliner. He was about to sing "Some Enchanted Evening." (well, actually, Giorgio Tozzi was about to sing "Some Enchanted Evening," but I didn't find out about the lip synching until years later, and besides, Rossanno was the one I was in love with...)

OH, NO! Rossanno's wonderful, robust complexion was fading into sepia. I was suddenly watching a brown and white movie. As he grabbed Mitzi Gaynor and pulled her into his arms, the screen turned yellow, while I turned pale, sick that I had a bad copy of the video.

I stopped the cassette, went back to the store and exchanged it. I ran back home and fast forwarded to "Bali Ha'i," just in time to see Juanita turn bright pink. I went back to the store and returned the cassette. They obviously had a bad batch of tapes. I drove across town, bought another tape, went back home, and saw Juanita turn pink again. I was livid. I started complaining to friends. One had a sixteen-year old daughter who exclaimed, "Oh, I just thought that's how the color was supposed to be. I thought it was cool!"

No! No! No! It wasn't cool. The wacko color was a mistake! A mistake! Okay?

For the next few days, I tried in vain to reach someone at 20th Century Fox Home Videos who might be interested to know they had a batch of bad videos on their hands. I finally got a very helpful lady named Gloria who promised to investigate. It took her several days to get back to me, but when she did, she had bad news. The new, psychedelic color was no mistake, she told me. This was the new director's cut. He had decided to "enhance" the musical numbers by matching the colors to his conception of the mood of the music. So when Mitzi Gaynor sings cheerily about being a "cock-eyed optimist," well, she turns a cheery yellow, by golly!

"Wait a minute!" I said, quivering with barely contained indignation. "Do you mean to tell me Joshua Logan got infatuated with Adobe Photoshop color sliders, and was allowed to butcher his masterpiece?"

"Yes," she assured me, "and all our copies are like that, so I won't be able to exchange your video. I can offer you another video."

Glumly, I asked for "Oklahoma," still trying to figure out what had possessed Logan.

But two weeks later, when "Carousel" (one of my least favorite musicals and certainly not something I desired to own) arrived in place of "South Pacific" instead of the requested "Oklahoma," my indignation had turned to suspicion. A quick Internet search revealed Joshua Logan had died in 1988, so how had he been able to screw up the remastering of "South Pacific" in 1999? Had he been touched by an angel?

Here's what I think. I think someone at 20th Century Fox botched the remastering, and instead of owning up to it and eating a bunch of defective videos, they made up this bogus story about the psychedelic "South Pacific" being the new director's cut.

So here's what "South Pacific" fans should do, particularly those of you in possession of one of these party-colored videos...we should raise hell. We should mail 'em back in droves, until their customer relations department is knee deep in defective videos. Maybe then, someone with a little clout will figure out there's a problem and fix it.

I think it's ridiculous that this wonderful film is not available in its original form. I can't think of another single remastered, reissued title where the original film was so badly botched on the video (other than titles like "It's a Wonderful Life" from the early, lamentable days of colorization, and they've been fixed).

If you agree with me, please help me inundate 20th Century Fox with mail protesting this situation. Maybe we can get it rectified. Or, you can call them.

20th Century Fox Home Video
Customer Relations
25th Floor
2121 Avenue of the Stars
Century City, CA 90067

1-800-369-6848, hit 0, ask for ext. 33900

Here are some interesting South Pacific facts:

The 1958 movie is based on the 1950 Pulizter-Prize winning Broadway play (for drama) by Joshua Logan in collaboration with Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein, which in turn was based on James Michener's Pulitzer Prize winning 1947 novel, "Tales of the South Pacific." The financial success of the 1950 play, which won 9 Tony awards, allowed the 43-year-old Michener to retire from teaching and pursue his writing career full time.

Because of "South Pacific's" pedigree and long history of dominating awards, it was widely anticipated that it would receive many Academy Award and Golden Globe nominations. But it was a tough year with many marvelous movies competing, including "Gigi," which dominated the Academy Awards, "Auntie Mame," "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," "Separate Tables" and "The Defiant Ones." The film was completely shut out of the 1959 Golden Globes, where "Gigi" won top honors for "Best Musical," and garnered only three nods in the 1958 Academy Award nominations: Todd A-O Sound Department for Sound (its only win); Leon Shamroy for best color cinematography (he lost to Joseph Ruttenberg who filmed "Gigi"); and Alfred Newman and Ken Darby for the musical score (they lost to André Previn who scored "Gigi").

A lot of people were shocked that the screen play, closely based on both the Pulitzer Prize winning novel and the Pulitzer Prize winning play, didn't receive a nomination for its screenplay or one of its many wonderful songs. Once again, the competition was fierce. Richard Brooks and James Poe were nominated for their interpretation of Tennessee William's provocative "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof;" Nelson Gidding and Don Mankiewicz for the melodramatic "I Want to Live!" which won Susan Hayward the Best Actress award; Alec Guinness for "The Horse's Mouth" (many people do not realize the venerable, Academy Award-winning actor, now most famous for his portrayal of Obi-wan Kenobee in the Star Wars saga, was also a successful screenwriter during the early part of his career), and Terence Rattigan and John Gay for "Separate Tables." And who won? Alan Jay Lerner, for his adaptation of "Gigi," of course!

"Some Enchanted Evening," one of my all time favorite love songs, didn't get an Oscar nomination. The nominees included another one of my all time favorite love songs, “A Certain Smile,” from the movie of the same name, by Sammy Fain and Paul Francis Webster. You already know what won, don't you? "Gigi," by Frederick Loewe and Alan Jay Lerner, sung in imitable fashion by the charming Maurice Chevalier, who received a special Oscar that night for his half century of contributions to the world of entertainment.

One proffered reason for South Pacific's poor outing in the Song category was that the only star who actually sang her own songs in the movie was Mitzi Gayner. As mentioned earlier, Giorgio Tozzi overdubbed Rosanno Brazzi's songs; Bill Lee sang for John Kerr and Muriel Smith sang for Juanita Hall.

But quality will out in the end. We still hum many tunes from "South Pacific" today. But almost no one can recall the tune or lyrics of the other three songs nominated for Best Song by the Academy in 1958: “Almost in Your Arms” a love song from "Houseboat" by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans; “To Love and Be Loved,” from "Some Came Running," by James Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn, and “A Very Precious Love,” from "Marjorie Morningstar," also by Sammy Fain and Paul Francis Webster. Can you recall them? I certainly can't!