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The country's freshly romantic disposition is to be found in the worlds of symphony, opera and ballet; increasingly audiences have cooled on experimental and abstract works while warmly receiving new performances of old favorites such as Brahms' Second Symphony, Carmen and Swan Lake. The mood of theatergoers was dramatized neatly on Broadway when an effort to revive Hair fizzled dismally with critics and public alike, while Man of La Mancha, with all its improbable visions, came back successfully (to run alongside such other hits as the shamelessly treacly Annie and Neil Simon's latest domestic frolic, Chapter Two). Movie fans are in tune too: having rejoiced not long ago over a fable of apocalypse like Dr. Strangelove and a parable of triumphant evil like Easy Rider, they are today cheering over a heart-grabbing fable like Rocky and a simple-minded parable of triumphant good like Star Wars. Certainly the romantic mood appears, if somewhat dissembled, in the reading habits of the American woman; after years of listening to liberationists, she is devouring the adventures of subjugate female heroines in the heavy-breathing epics of writers like Kathleen Woodiwiss (Shanna) and Rosemary Rogers (Wicked Loving Lies). The hot market for romantic novels has publishers gurgling with joy.
Indeed, nobody peddling romance in any form seems in grave risk of unhappiness these days. Even books on sex seem to sell best when "joy" is part of the title, and a gossamer tale of juvenile heartbloom and heartbreak called Happy Days is one of the strongest-running sitcoms on the tube. Weightless romance, to be sure, has always been a TV staple, but now the lovelorn soaps have gained such a galvanized following among old and young that television can spoof itself with an unsavory parody of the genre called Soap. Public TV found out not long ago that it could gather its most zealous audience ever with the quality soap opera called Upstairs, Downstairs. Many radio stations, meanwhile, have discovered that it is possible to ignore rock and develop sizable audiences with the schmaltz of Barry Manilow or the mellow golden oldies of Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller and the like. In the real world, clubs and restaurants are dimming the lights more than ever, and many such spots have provided the stages for the big continuing renaissance of jazz. As Benny Goodman once said, "Jazz is romantic." But these days one might ask: What is not?