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In the March 30th NYT, “After 50 Years, It’s Time for a Better ‘Sound of Music’” by Lawrence Downes, beginning:
“The Sound of Music,” the movie, turns 50 this year, as popular as ever, a bedrock memory of untold millions of childhoods. Mine, for sure. Some far-off day, when neural engineers do a digital download of my dying brain, they will find, way back with the oldest grudges and PIN numbers, the “Sound of Music” soundtrack, every line and rhyme. She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee. When the dog bites. Yodel-ay-hee-hoo.
The movie is returning to theaters for two days in April, and no doubt many in middle age will go, to visit an old friend who they hope hasn’t aged a bit.
A few may be disappointed. “The Sound of Music” is a great movie, but it isn’t a very good one. Critics in 1965 recoiled from its operetta schmaltz, its wooden acting, the sentimental goop poured all over what was already considered one of the sappier Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals. They were right, even though the movie’s many devotees will disagree, now and forever.
Don’t get me wrong — I love the movie and still enjoy making fun of it. But I often wonder why it has never been reimagined, rescued from its reputation, reborn as a movie to enjoy for reasons other than nostalgia or camp.
Downes’s criticisms are right on the mark, I think; considered dispassionately, The Sound of Music is a dreadful movie. But notice that he doesn’t indict the star, Julie Andrews. I submit that her oh-so-sweetly sentimental persona fits right into the rest of the travesty, and that it detracts from almost all of her other performances. Yes, this is very much a minority opinion, but there it is.
