There’s a moment in South Pacific where Mitzi Gaynor’s Nellie Forbush belts out that she’s going to “wash that man right outta [her] hair.” What she doesn’t mention is that the audience might be tempted to wash the film right outta their eyes. Let’s be clear: South Pacific is a lush, ambitious, semi-operatic fever dream of love, war, and wildly experimental color filters, based on Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Broadway juggernaut. But the film adaptation is like a Mai Tai made with too much rum and not enough restraint—fabulous in theory, queasy in execution. It’s a musical classic that refuses to go quietly into the cinematic night, even if sometimes we kind of wish it would.
From Majestic to Mitzi
By the time 20th Century Fox got its sunburned hands on South Pacific, Rodgers and Hammerstein were essentially the Marvel Studios of mid-century musical theater—unstoppable, wealthy, and occasionally prone to bad third-act decisions. Their 1949 stage version, based on James A. Michener’s Tales of the South Pacific, had already steamrolled the Tonys and the Pulitzer committee. So naturally, a film version was inevitable. Cue the partnership with Magna Theatre Corporation, Fox’s retooled Todd-AO tech, and enough island scenery to make a coconut weep.
Joshua Logan, who had directed the original Broadway production, signed on to helm the film. He hoped for subtlety and ended up with enough magenta filters to make the tropics look like a flamingo exploded. The plan was to cast the original stars—Ezio Pinza and Mary Martin—but Pinza inconveniently died (which Hollywood, tragically, still considers “unavailable”), and Martin was allegedly deemed too mature, or too Mary, for the part.
Some Enchanted Miscasting
So, who do we get instead? Mitzi Gaynor, in her most aggressively perky performance this side of a toothpaste commercial, and Rossano Brazzi, whose lush Italian accent and brooding good looks made him perfect for a Frenchman with… an inexplicably operatic baritone provided by Giorgio Tozzi. That’s right—Brazzi was dubbed, as were half the cast. It’s a little like watching a ventriloquist convention, only the dummy is winning the Oscar.
Filmed mainly on location in Kaua’i, the production spared no expense and showed no chill. Director Logan, afraid that the tropical landscape would look too tropical on screen, added colored filters during musical numbers. The result is a visual migraine masquerading as an artistic choice. You’ll go from cerulean to salmon pink faster than you can say “Bali Ha’i.” That said, the story remains engaging: love across racial lines, the bitter costs of war, and a lot of men in khaki being deeply confused by their emotions.
You’ve Got to Be Carefully Filtered
South Pacific opened in 1958 and immediately made a fortune, proving that Americans would pay to watch existential angst set to lush orchestrations. It topped the box office, ran for nearly 4½ years in London’s Dominion Theatre (because British people were too polite to leave), and sold a soundtrack album that lived at No. 1 longer than some monarchs reigned. Despite this, critical reaction was mixed—film lovers were enchanted, but cinephiles griped about the aggressive color grading and the curiously stilted pacing.
Over the decades, the film has become something of a cultural artifact, a snapshot of 1950s optimism wrapped in Technicolor ambivalence. It was also boycotted in parts of the U.S. for daring to suggest that racism might be a problem, a reminder that Rodgers and Hammerstein, for all their showtune sparkle, did not shy away from making white audiences uncomfortable. The song “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught” still packs a punch, filters be damned.
Not Quite Washed Out
In the end, South Pacific is the musical equivalent of a romantic postcard that’s been left out in the sun too long: faded, but still charming. It’s too influential to ignore, too flawed to fully embrace, and too interesting to dismiss. Three stars—for ambition, for audacity, and for sheer saturated spectacle. Just don’t watch it on a hangover.
⭐️⭐️⭐️ out of 5
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