- It's all based on a true story
Well, like everything there's certain liberties taken with the story. Maria had actually been brought to the von Trapp home to only be a governess to one of the children. She only later looked after all of them. There were actually 7 von Trapp children but there were actually 3 boys and one girl - all have different names in the movie. The real children are Rupert, Agathe, Maria, Werner, Hedwig, Johanna, and Martina. In her autobiography, Maria says that she never really loved the Captain and that she honestly wanted to be a nun. But she loved the children and married him for them. (Not quite as romantic as the film, but I guess there's no way to write a ballad about marrying a man for his children.) But the best reminder that the musical and film are about a real woman named Maria von Trapp is that she actually appears in the film with one of the three children she had with Georg, Rosmarie, and her step-grandchild, Barbara (whose father was Werner):
- It giddily embraces its corniness
The party scene where all of the guests randomly sing "good-bye" to the children and then go about their business as if nothing happened? Amazing. Or how about when the film stops dead to put on an elaborate puppet show about a "Lonely Goatherd" and ends up being a highlight of the film despite doing nothing to advance the plot. And I would just like to sing the praises for a moment of "Sixteen Going on Seventeen". A song that takes place between the oldest looking teenagers to ever sing about the glories of getting older - since they've already been there. And then some. (Charmain Carr who played "16-year-old" Liesl was 22 at the time of filming.) But I've always loved this final shot after Rolf kisses Liesl and she lets out a childish "WEEEEEE!!" There's a second where the shadow makes it look like she's missing her two front teeth and I've always found it to be the funniest thing:
- Its superb attention to detail
The film is far superior to the stage version of The Sound of Music (a singing and dancing Max and Elsa just makes no sense). But the best part of the film is how they opened it up from the movie soundstages and actually filmed in Austria. Those opening shots of the mountains taken from a helicopter that zooms down to Maria (and apparently flattened Julie Andrews in take after take), the mini travelogue brochure of Salzburg as Maria and the children perform "Do-Re-Me" around the city, gives the film a broad cinematic scope, making it feel epic. But within that wide scope are tiny intricacies that sharpen the focus and details that shade the reality. Like this dress worn by an incoming postulant nun just starting her religious order as Maria returns to the Abbey:
When Maria first meets the Captain he tells her that she'll need to change her dress. But she replies that it's the only one she has. When they enter the abbey all their worldly possessions are given to the poor. ("What about that one?" "The poor didn't want this one...") Right after the shot from the scene above, Maria confesses her love for the Captain to the Mother Abbess who tells Maria to "Climb Every Mountain" (the mountain in question being that hunky naval captain...) and return to let him know how she feels. The very next scene, Maria returns to the von Trapp household dressed in this:
- For nuns that know how to dismantle a car engine...and a perfectly timed delivery
- But the reason it works at all and remains so watchable 50 years later: Julie Andrews
As Carrie Underwood's wooden performance proved, no one did it better than Julie. Even Lady Gaga at this year's Oscars, when she sang songs from the movie, did it in a British accent. For no other reason than the fact that Julie Andrews is so synonymous with those songs that you just can't help singing them without Julie's lilt. No offense to Julie Christie, who I enjoy in Darling, but Julie Andrews deserved that Best Actress Oscar that year. It's not her fault that she won the year before for Mary Poppins. And as good as that performance is, this one is even better. Her performance is so sincere that it's simply incapable of feeling false, teetering on twee but never succumbing to cheap sentimentality. Coupled with her firm resolve and nurturing kindness, Andrews takes a woman who is essentially "good" and makes her interesting, while making it all look effortless. There's an entire song dedicated to how deeply flawed Maria is (which is rudely sung at her wedding. Thanks a lot, Sisters), but Andrews makes her even more endearing because of those character quirks. Her contradictions and conflicted emotions give Maria a depth not often found in traditional musicals. And amid the eye rolls and stumbles, Andrews also finds simplistic honesty and surprising moments of subtly sensual longing. Like in the shot I chose as my best:
I was surprised that I couldn't stop thinking about this shot after re-watching the film yesterday for two reasons. The first is I simply don't ever remember seeing it before. When you think of The Sound of Music, immediately your mind goes to musical numbers in the hills. As many times as I've watched it, I couldn't recall this shot ever happening and it's rare for something you know so well to still surprise you with new things. (I immediately thought maybe it had been cut from versions shown on television, but what purpose would that serve?) The other reason I loved the scene is because of the wistful quality Andrews has by gently leaning her head against the wall. It's almost as if she's trying to melt into the background and remain unobserved as her gaze silently gives away the new feelings stirring within her. It's the look of love. And like the observant Baroness, I too recognize it because it reflects my own affection for this film. And if you have something mean to say about it, well, I'll just have Carrie Underwood pray for you...
