SUNDAY BRUNCH: "The Sound of Music" Effect
The source of all good things
Tonight’s airing of “The Sound of Music” will be the 22nd year in a row ABC has aired the movie during the Christmas season. By now, the entire score lives in our bones. I mean, even people who hate musicals love “The Sound of Music,” right?
If it’s too syrupy for you, you can always move to England where their favorite annual Christmas movie is “The Great Escape.” No, I’m not kidding. And I totally get it. The tale of brave WWII British officers tunnelling out of a Nazi concentration camp with an all star cast? Yes, please.
Alone at the movies
My relationship with “The Sound of Music” goes back to the early 1970s. My mom finally relented and let me and my brother go to the movies by ourselves. She thought “The Sound of Music” would be safe and air conditioned and she left us with a dime for the pay phone. We had a great time.
Until intermission. When Maria walked out of the Von Trapp family home with her suitcase, her guitar, and her second-hand clothes to return to the convent, we thought the show was over. So, we called mom and didn’t see the end until several years later when it aired on TV. They got married? There were Nazis? Who knew?
Live on stage
There was a time in my life when I truly believed all good things come from “The Sound of Music.” Here’s why:
A million years ago, I was unexpectedly cast in a community theater production as Maria. Unexpected because when I left the audition, I saw the writing on the wall and told the director I would be happy to play a nun or the baroness. Up until then, I was usually cast in character or featured roles. Never the lead female. But in the case of “SOM,” the lead female doesn’t have to be 18 and winsome. She could be a little older, a little clumsier, a little more idiosyncratic. More like me.
There was a callback with a bunch of potential kids, a few Marias, and a few Captain Von Trapps, but I wasn’t among them. They were testing for chemistry and family combinations. Ah, well.
After losing my shit when I got the call offering me the part, I calmed down and realized that one of my lifelong dreams had now been realized: I always wanted to play the lead in a musical. And now I would.
But it’s not like you can run around screaming the news to people on the street, so I found a quiet place in a local park and, under the stars, I could hear the words to “There Won’t Be Trumpets” by Stephen Sondheim.
There won't be trumpets or bolts of fire
To say he's coming.
No Roman candles, no angels' choir,
No sound of distant drumming.
He may not be the cavalier,
Tall and graceful, fair and strong.
Doesn't matter, just as long as he comes along!
Only in this case, it wasn’t a “he” that arrived, but an “event.” A dream realized. Shouldn’t there be fireworks or cannons? Where were the cheering crowds? The accolades? It was a sweet moment, spent alone and grateful. It taught me a lot about what happens when you get what you want.
The production itself brought a precious bounty of blessings, too. My future boss saw me in the show and immediately wanted to “talk about my future.” A few years later when my husband and I bid on an adorable house, we were one of many, but our advantage was that the seller’s son played one of the Von Trapp children in that production with me. Score!
I rehearsed hard, vocalized every day, and did my best. We sold out the entire place for each performance and I got to walk away feeling total satisfaction with a job well done.
I also noticed how clunky the show is. The stage script is especially tedious in places. Just listen to the conversation between the Mother Abbess and Maria back in the convent, just before “Climb Every Mountain.” And did you ever notice that it takes about 20 seconds of stage time for the Captain to break up with the baroness and move on to Maria? It’s a real head-snapper!
But who cares when you have a singing family fighting against the Nazis? Fun fact: you can’t just walk over a mountain from Austria to Switzerland. The border is 200 miles away. In reality, the Von Trapps took a train.
Back to reality
Gradually, reality set in after we closed.
There is a “mesmerizing” effect on audience members when they see a performer in action. It’s a much more emotional response than if they met the performer at, say, a bar or a party. It’s like a spell that is cast, but it doesn’t last. They say the thrill of a new car wears off after 90 days. I tried to prepare my then-boyfriend for the rocky landing that occurs when that euphoria fades, but he blew me off. It took almost a year to break it off for good.
And although I landed the job of my dreams (another goal achieved), the darker side of the work became more evident. I got busier, more tired, and a bit more cynical.
Then, a nearby Bavarian-themed community began to produce “The Sound of Music” annually. I auditioned and was cast as…you guessed it: a nun and the baroness! (see above). I also understudied the Mother Abbess who threatened to be sick just before a a few performances, creating diarrhea-induced stress in me. No matter what, you can’t fuck up the Mother Abbess.
This time, though, the allure of performing was starting to wear thin and my attitude got in my way. One night, as I was getting into costume, I sighed loudly: “Does anyone want to play the Baroness tonight”? From across the dressing room, I heard my understudy quietly say, “I would.”
This is where, if I could have, I would have turned myself over my knee and spanked myself for being such a shit. No matter how “small time” I might have hought the operation was or how tired I was or how much I hated the heat, the dust, and the occasional rattlesnake (we were performing in the real mountains, after all), there was someone else who would cherish this opportunity. I shaped up my attitude and had a pretty great summer.
We also had the added joy of a nightly Moment of Zen. Our stage was perched up on a skill hill and when you stood backstage, waiting for an entrance or to change costumes, all you could see behind you were rich green forests and hills and you realized how Maria could be so overcome to start singing, “The hills are alive…”
Too old for this
Fast forward to many years after I had stopped performing. It’s a long story, but I was cast as the cranky nun (“Sister Berthe” who starts the song “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?”) in yet another summer production in that little Bavarian town. But by this time, my attitude was beyond bad. I was an emotional mess for many reasons including the fact that I lived in my car and we rehearsed in an un-air-conditioned school cafeteria in the middle of summer. That was when we weren’t in full sun on the mountainside stage. I was definitely too old for this.
Our director was an asshole, the choral director was overwrought, and the producer was her usual difficult self and I was sorry the minute I signed up. When do you grow up enough to know it’s time to leave a bad situation when you see one?
But the summer had its highlights: each performance began with the four main nuns singing “How Do You Solve a Problem Like a Cell Phone?” which cracked the audience up. The nun’s chorus was especially strong that year, so those choral pieces sounded glorious. And every night, no matter where we were, the entire cast sang along with the Von Trapps and the audience during “Eidelweiss.” It was like a nightly group meditation for us all.
The production was chocked full of talent. Musicians from a local college drove 90 minutes for every performance, college theater majors gave up everything to do a summer season (I still see them perform in shows around the area), and juvenile actors who danced, juggled, sang, wrote songs, played instruments. Amazing.
As a member of the nun’s chorus, we were expected to be the “dressers” for the Von Trapp girls, which was an adventure. Their parts were way bigger than ours and I would look at these little children and think: you go steal that show, kid! They rocked the scene where the captain calls them with his whistle, they nailed the “Lonely Goatherd” puppet show, and the harmony with Maria in “The Sound of Music” reprise was always beautiful.
The girls wore white stockings which would stay clean for about two minutes before dust from the trail and the stage got to them. We put them in their playclothes made of curtains, tied blue satin sashes on their white wedding dresses, and cleaned up after them as they rushed out for another scene.
Performances were always packed and, as we said goodbye to the audience making its way back to their cars, we received the warmest of responses. One lady stopped in front of me (I was still dressed in my nun regalia) and said: “And it never could have happened without God.” I stood speechless for a moment, nodded, and thanked her coming. This show really gets to people, I thought.
That’s enough
I think I’m done doing shows. I can’t really handle the stress anymore, my memory sucks, and I don’t have the patience for repeated performances. But I am so grateful to community theater for all of the friends, fun, laughs, and challenges. To sing, dance, and act with strangers who become friends by the end is an intense and unique experience. I hope I spent enough time in gratitude for the true gift that it is.
So, tonight, despite its creaky and awkward flaws, there is no doubt that “The Sound of Music” will once again bring people together. If not to perform, well then to watch in a live audience or snuggle on a couch with friends and family and a mug of cocoa.
In these times, the more we can find to unite us in joy and festivity, the better.
Happy Holidays.
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