South Pacific in London

Noel Coward* sat in the front row. The Oliviers were there. So were banks of diplomats, cafe socialites and other famous faces. By the time the curtain went up on the first British showing of South Pacific, more than 2,300 had crowded into London's Drury Lane Theater.

By the end of the first act there was no doubt about its reception. Each song was rewarded with salvos of wild cheers. Time after time, applause threatened to hold up the show. Mary Martin's I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair brought down the house. After the final curtain and a dozen curtain calls, Mary came on again, to join the house in a community sing of Wash That Man.

But London's critics refused to be pushed over. Wrote the Daily Express' John Barber: "My goodness ... I got a 42nd Street Madame Butterfly. I hoped for a new leading man to rival Ezio Pinza. I got Wilbur Evans. . . an old uncle with the fire gone out. . . Only a moderately enchanting evening. People will say I'm in love . . . with Oklahoma!" The Daily Mail's Cecil Wilson thought the plot moved too slowly. Said he: "It seemed to be more like South Soporific." Yet the critics, despite their reservations, were quick to admit that South Pacific seemed destined to enchant Londoners almost indefinitely.

* Whose Pacific 1860, starring Mary Martin, had flopped in London in 1947-

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