In other words, is there a true story behind the musical? And of course there is, and it’s much more interesting than the plot that could be crammed onto the stage or into a film. (Note the proper use of prepositions.)
We all know that when we see the words “based on a true story” at the beginning of a biopic or a docudrama that we’d better not take the storyline too seriously. Those warnings don’t appear at the beginning of The Sound of Music, but perhaps they should. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed researching the real von Trapp family and would urge you to follow the links below to get a fuller picture than I can give here.
Since the storyline centers around Maria, let me start with the her. The actual woman wrote an actual book, The Story of the Trapp Family Singers, published in 1949. Maybe one of these days I’ll read the whole thing, but the summaries say that Maria Augusta Kutschera, an orphan, was raised by a court-appointed guardian until she ran away at age 15 because of her harsh treatment. Her first job post-running-away was that of an umpire for a tennis tournament: “Although she did not know what an umpire was and had never played tennis, she took the job.” (Wikipedia) That one little nugget of information is really all you need to know about Maria Kutschera. Talk about chutzpah! She used the money she earned from this highly-improbable job to enter a teachers’ college, graduating at age 18. From there she did indeed enter a convent, firmly fixed on the idea of becoming a nun. But the convent abbess sent her to tutor one of Baron von Trapp’s children, thus setting in motion the whole will-she-stay-or-will-she-go drama about marrying him. And by the way–the Baron wasn’t this cold, anti-music autocrat as portrayed in the musical but instead a warm, involved father who enjoyed singing with his children. While having him undergo the change in his character that occurs in the dramatic versions makes for a much better story than does reality, the von Trapp children were quite distressed by his portrayal.
In the drama Maria and the Baron fall in love, and she really, really wants to marry him in spite of her commitment to the church. In actuality, though, things were quite a bit more complicated:
She wrote in her autobiography that she was very angry on her wedding day, both at God and at her husband, because what she really wanted was to be a nun. “I really and truly was not in love. I liked him but didn’t love him. However, I loved the children, so in a way I really married the children. I learned to love him more than I have ever loved before or after.” (quoted in Wikipedia)
Oh, and one more thing: that ending to the film, in which the family is seen hiking over the Alps with the suitcases and musical instruments, heading out of Austria in order to avoid being a part of the Nazi government? Well, it won’t surprise you that it never happened. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. If the von Trapps had really taken the route suggested by the movie, they would have ended up somewhere near Adolf Hitler’s mountain retreat, the Eagle’s Nest in Berchtesgaden, Germany. Instead, they prosaically, and quite openly, took the train. Sigh. They ended up touring all over the world and making a number of best-selling recordings, not officially disbanding until 1955.
And the sweetness-and-light Maria in the film? Once again the real Maria is much more interesting, but once more containing contradictions that don’t translate well to the stage:
She tended to erupt in angry outbursts consisting of yelling, throwing things and slamming doors. Her feelings would immediately be relieved and good humor restored, while other family members, particularly her husband, found it less easy to recover. (“The Real-Life Story of Maria von Trapp“)
As someone who feels the need to vent periodically (although I don’t usually throw things), I can relate!
There’s much more to say about this complicated woman, including her lifelong work with various charitable and/or missionary organizations, especially after her husband died in 1947. But since the focus of this post is actually supposed to be on the musical itself, perhaps I’d better segue into that. Man, is there a lot to say! And since the choral arrangement that my own choir is singing is the opening one, “The Hills Are Alive,” I’m going to limit myself to that piece and how it fits into the story.
First off, have you ever wondered how the beginning of that scene was filmed? Remember, the movie was made in 1965, which means no drones, no greenscreens, no CGI. It all has to be real. They used a helicopter, with Julie Andrews at one end of the meadow and the helicopter at the other. When the signal was given (by a guy with a megaphone in the bushes), the two positions would start moving toward each other. But poor Julie Andrews kept getting knocked down by the copter’s downdraft. Finally, after about 10 takes, she managed to stay upright. The whole sequence lasts less than 25 seconds, at which time the filming crew switches to a camera on the ground. There’s an interesting backstory about the mechanics of the thing:
The Sound of Music owes its perfectly executed sweeping opening shot of Maria walking across the green meadow to the cameraman Paul Beeson. He felt that the only way the shot could be made without casting shadows was to have the camera operator strapped to the outside of the helicopter. Paul Beeson’s camera operator refused because he was concerned with his safety while holding a heavy and cumbersome camera and hanging out of a helicopter. No one else would step up to the task so Paul did it himself – totally unprepared dressed in a jacket and tie and afraid of heights! But he was so dedicated to get the right shot he went ahead with the risky task anyway. (“The Making of the Movie“)
Secondly, what’s the occasion for the song? Why is this girl out on the mountain in the first place? You have to pay attention to what happens at the end of it, as bells start ringing from the convent. Maria gathers up her skirts and runs, because those bells mean that she’s late. It’s spelled out in the stage musical and implied in the film that the Abbess has given her permission to go out on the hills for the day but that she has to return in time for evening prayers. The Abbess asks, “Suppose darkness had come and you were lost?” to which Maria replies, “Mother, I could never be lost up there. That’s my mountain. I was brought up on it.”
Now the words begin to hang together in a more coherent way: Oscar Hammerstein, the lyricist, has basically personified the hills on which Maria has been wandering all day:
My day in the hills has come to an end, I know.
(We find out from the very beginning that her time out of doors is limited.)
A star has come out to tell me it’s time to go.
(Twilight/night is falling, although the movie scene is in broad daylight.)
But deep in the dark green shadows are voices that urge me to stay.
(Here’s the first instance of personification.)
So I pause and I wait and I listen for one more sound,
For one more lovely thing that the hills might say.
(And here’s the second one.)
In the chorus Maria moves from what the hills are saying to her to what she wants to say/sing and feel: “My heart will be blessed with the sound of music/And I’ll sing once more.”
SOM was the last musical on which Richard Rodgers the composer and Oscar Hammerstein the lyricist collaborated, and Hammerstein has been, well, hammered, by some critics at least, for the supposed soppy sentimentality of his words. Even Stephen Sondheim, whom Hammerstein mentored, thought that the older man “wrote some terrible lyrics. . . . ‘And while we’re at it, how can you tell a lark that is just learning to pray from one who’s actually praying? Wait a minute — a lark praying? What are we talking about?’” (“Stephen Sondheim’s Top 10 Grudges, Critiques, and Revelations from His New Book”)
Hey, I kinda like that line. And the rest of them, too. So there!
Here’s the iconic opening:
And here’s a delicious little bit with the real Maria and the stage one:
