Move over, "Oklahoma!" and "West Side Story"--a new musical celebration of American life has taken the world by storm. Now appearing at London's National Theatre but soon bound for all four corners of the globe, this instant classic fairly bursts with all the wit, color, and human drama that is America. Of course, I'm referring to "Jerry Springer: The Opera."

The curtain rises to reveal the familiar studio ... Enter Jerry Springer, followed his guests: a man who has been cheating on his fiancée with another woman and a she-male ... a diaper fetishist ... a trailer trash slut who wants to be a pole dancer over the objections of her hood-wearing husband. Act One closes with tap-dancing Klansmen and the assassination of Springer himself. Act Two opens in Hell--but I mustn't spoil all the fun.

How have London's critics greeted this pageant of temperate good taste? Gushes Charles Spencer of the Daily Telegraph, "I never thought I would find a man who wants to poo his pants touching but somehow, in this gaudy context it is.... The National Theatre has a thrilling, truly ground breaking hit on its hands and both the West End, and Broadway must surely beckon."

In the Sunday Times, John Peter muses, "This is a bruising, shocking, irresistibly funny masterpiece all on it's [sic] own; a big, boisterous, brazenly scabrous--nay, raucously filthy--morality play.... The score conveys operatic magnificence and deep feeling that surround and sanctify the contents like an ornate gilt frame surrounding a pair of soiled underpants in an avant-garde art gallery."

Closer to home, Michael Phillips of the Chicago Tribune felt differently about his night at the opera. "So why did I not enjoy this bad taste blowout, a show determined to get obscenities into as many song lyrics as possible? Was it because I was from Chicago? Was I simply too touchy about American jackassery on display, without much in the way of satiric acumen, to get into the lowbrow spirit of things?"

Perhaps, Michael, but it doesn't matter what you think. As Jesse McKinley of the New York Times points out, "Jerry Springer: the Opera," the surprise London hit based on the crude, rude and socially unacceptable American talk show, is by all accounts the most sought-after show in the world right now."

Forget about big-hearted ranchers and striving immigrants eyeing the American Dream--today's global audience is looking for less flattering portrayals of our land and its peoples. Can we blame them for a little schadenfraude after the way we've behaved lately?

Still, given the current environment, it's worth remembering that there have been long stretches of history during which our foreign friends looked up to United States, even admired our ideals and good works.

At the very birth of our nation, we embraced then-radical notions of democracy and equality that would serve as an example from France to Nicaragua. The land of opportunity, we welcomed the world's outcasts to find a new life on our shores, where any child could grow up to be president, chairman of the board, home run king.

During the Second World War, President Roosevelt's proclamation of "four essential human freedoms"--of speech and worship, and from want and fear--helped spark a larger moral crusade that would include the UN Charter of Universal Human Rights, the Atlantic Charter, and the anti-colonialist movement. Our feats of science and engineering heralded the unbounded potential of the mind, from the Brooklyn Bridge to the birth of aviation, the Panama Canal, and the moon landing.

This isn't to say that our passage through history was entirely unblemished. But somehow, other nations proved willing to give us a pass on such missteps as the mass enslavement of the black race, an ambitious and comprehensive genocide of our continental predecessors, and a long tradition of gunboat diplomacy.

Lately, though, our standing in the world's eyes has taken a beating. Anti-Americanism overseas is nothing new; many of the flags we export each year have always been bound for the bonfire. But the current mood of suspicion, anger, and contempt is more broadly held than any we've faced in the past. It's not just Islamic fundamentalists that consider the U.S. the Great Satan these days. From Rio to Kyoto to the European Union, we're increasingly seen as bellicose, morally corrupt, a force more of imperialism than enlightenment.

Somewhere along the way, our national mythology has become distorted. No longer scrappy underdogs, we're feared as bullies. The small-town girl with a dream in her eye is now a $20 million-a-picture ice queen with an army of boyfriends and bodyguards. The eccentric attic inventor is now an industrial giant wielding his might to crush helpless competitors.

How did this happen? Politics, economics, and foreign policy aside, in large part we're simply victims of our own success.

Just as Britannia once ruled the waves, the U.S. now rules the airwaves. The insatiable appetite of overseas markets for our entertainment content puts glorified depictions of American life in living rooms and movie houses in every corner of the globe. Packaged in big-budget movies, TV shows, and pop bands for transmission abroad, America has become slick, remote, and inaccessible. As with any celebrity, our audience has become cynical, cheering our misfortune as much as our success, unable to believe that within our breast beats a heart like any other, full of hopes and dreams and suffering.

The success of "Jerry Springer: The Opera" makes one thing clear: people around the world have seen enough of our strength. Now they want to see our frailty, our flaws, the human weaknesses that drive us ever onward to reinvent ourselves and the world around us.

As it happens, our omnipotent and wise entertainment industry is already on the job. Over the past few years, our best creative minds have realized that what audiences most want to see is people just like them--not celebrities pretending to be real, but the genuine article, the common man, woman, and child, living lives that we can relate to because they so resemble our own. This simple truth has driven the blockbuster success of shows from "Cops" to "The Real World" to "Temptation Island," and plenty more to come.

Consider for a moment how these aptly named "reality programs" capture the essence of what it means to be an American, what it means to be America.

"Survivor":
Drawn from all walks of life, these intrepid adventurers are thrown together in hostile and unfamiliar territory. Their diversity is both their greatest strength and their toughest challenge, and they are beset by internal divisions and painful choices, echoing the pivotal role of the Civil War in American history. At the end of the day, for every winner, there are umpteen losers. In their failed hopes, we see reflected our own.

"Fear Factor":
Who hasn't awakened from a troubled sleep with the nagging suspicion that somewhere out there, a room full of sadists is hard at work thinking up new terrors with which to torment us? We have nothing to fear but fear itself, yet fear alone is often enough to keep us from realizing our dreams.

"American Idol":
Everyone craves a moment in the spotlight, that magical fifteen minutes of fame that just might lead to more. It's a precious fantasy--until the day actually comes, and our tender gift of artistic expression is greeted with scorn and ridicule by judges whose only qualification is their willingness to twist the knife. All the while, millions watch us squirm, feeding hungrily on our distress ... and we line up again and again for the privilege.

"Love or Money":
Here is life reduced to its most basic elements, both essential for a thriving existence, yet so often mutually exclusive in practice. Just when we think we've got it figured out, the game turns out to be rigged--and falling in love can bring the worst penalty of all.

What citizen of the world, watching such shows, could come away thinking anything but "they're not so big after all?" In diminishing ourselves, we raise others, and so come ever closer to seeing eye-to-eye.

Critics have bemoaned reality programming as the epitome of our decline, a race to the bottom fueled by venality, humiliation, and moral bankruptcy. Maybe they're right. Okay, they're definitely right. But these humble confessions of our national shame may also be our last, best chance to redeem ourselves in the eyes of the world.