Some enchanted evening

Hearing Paulo Szot sing Some Enchanted Evening in the recent production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific at the Vivian Beaumont Theater at Lincoln Center will probably go down as one of the high points of my life. Knowing that my dear sweet Sophie, sitting beside me, had never seen this musical, and hearing that soaring baritone voice describe with such uncanny accuracy my feelings toward her, has made for one of the most thrilling experiences in my recent memory. When the song ended I leaned over and kissed her, in sheer appreciation of the privilege of being alive and in the company of someone I love.

Paulo Szot and Kelli O’Hara in South Pacific

I remember that the first time I saw the film, when I was a teenager, I had thought that the premise of its basic conflict was hopelessly out of date. In short: We are introduced to a romantic couple who clearly belong together. The conflict, introduced at the end of Act I, is that one half of the couple turns out to be a racist, repulsed by the fact that the other had once been married to a Polynesian.

I remember wondering when I first saw the film how any modern audience member could expect to identify with or be sympathetic to the plight of someone who holds such absurd beliefs. Perhaps it made sense in 1949, when the play first opened on Broadway, or in 1958, when the film premiered, but certainly not in modern times.

In the play, the racist character eventually overcomes this prejudice, and is rewarded by becoming capable of experiencing true happiness within a relationship. But I remember as a teenager losing all sympathy for the character at the end of Act I. To me the play’s central dramatic device seemed fatally flawed: Why would an audience continue to care about someone after witnessing such ugliness within their soul?

But now, seeing it again, I realize that this is a theme that never goes out of date, because irrational prejudice is always with us, and I now understand it to be an illness, albeit one that can simultaneously afflict millions of people. Rather than turning away in disgust from the afflicted, we need to maintain our belief that they can overcome their limitations. The audience is being asked to continue to have love and compassion for someone in spite of their racism, and to understand that they are capable of redemption.

In the current U.S. political climate we are being told that some Americans might refuse to vote for Barack Obama merely because of his mixed race heritage. This in spite of the fact that, unlike John McCain, Obama as president would clearly begin the long healing process our nation needs after the self-inflicted wounds of the last seven long years – the polls indicate that Americans are well aware of this need. The idea that anybody would not vote for this beautiful and inspiring man because of some nonsensical construct in their own heads would once have inspired in me nothing but an uncomfortable sense of disgust. But now I’ve come to realize that racism is indeed a kind of illness, one that sometimes can be cured.

Yes, there are many people still walking around with, in essence, ugly festering sores upon their souls. But those sores are curable and these people can be helped. Barack Obama might just be the catalyst that motivates Americans to heal their wounded souls. If we can help people to realize the sheer absurdity of applying nonsensical labels to a man who is possessed of such lovely ideas and eloquence of expression, we might very well be helping to transform and heal our culture.

After seven years of misuse of military force, erosion of both civil liberties and judicial independence, massive unnecessary death of innocents abroad, rising poverty at home, and astonishing incompetence in the face of human suffering all around, our nation is at long last nearing the sunset of the Bush presidency. With luck and sufficient compassion for those among us who need to be helped to find their better natures, that sunset may just turn out to be an enchanted evening.