THE SOUND OF MUSIC (1965)

We all know the opening shot: an aerial view of the pristine Austrian Alps, with birdsong, babbling brooks, and snowy peaks. Suddenly, a melodic Richard Rodgers’ score swells as we slowly pan up a hill and see a distant figure walking towards us, impossibly small amid the giant natural world surrounding her. This is the opening to the film version of Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein’s award-winning stage musical The Sound of Music.

In its 60th year, The Sound of Music continues to enchant audiences worldwide—a testament not only to its memorable tunes and breathtaking landscapes but also to its unapologetic embrace of a unique kind of “unrealism.” Critics over the decades have labelled the film as overly sweet and saccharine, dismissing its clean moral lines and fairytale resolutions as unrealistic. Yet it’s precisely this stark delineation between good and evil that has allowed the film to resonate so powerfully with generations of moviegoers. In a time when films often revel in moral ambiguity and the endless grey of human complexity, The Sound of Music speeds up life’s process, offering viewers a promise of reward for virtue and retribution for vice—a promise that echoes the teachings of countless religions and spiritual paths.

The Sound of Music tells the story of Maria (Julie Andrews), a free-spirited postulant whose unconventional approach to life, often at odds with the abbey where she hopes to become a nun, lands her a job as a governess for the seven children of the austere Captain von Trapp (Christopher Plummer). Through her infectious optimism and irrepressible love for music, Maria gradually transforms the rigid, emotionally barren household into a lively haven of song and joy. Against the backdrop of a looming political crisis in Austria, the film follows the von Trapp family as they navigate love, loss, and the harsh realities of a world on the brink of war—only to ultimately choose a path that celebrates courage and righteousness over fear and resignation.

Many have argued that the film’s simplistic portrayal of morality is its greatest weakness. They point to the immediate and unambiguous punishment of the villains, the way morally dubious characters like Max Detweiler (Richard Haydn) or the oldest Von Trapp child Liesl’s (Charmian Carr) paramour Rolf (Daniel Truhitte) are forced to choose sides, and the lack of nuanced, realistic character development. However, this binary vision is precisely what lends the film its timeless appeal. In the world director Robert Wise and screenplay writer Ernst Lehman have created, there is a clear and distinct distance between right and wrong.

The film posits that when we live good lives in service of others and reject evil, we can be confident that the scales of justice will eventually balance. When placed beside the “realistic” (read hollow and dull) films lauded by critics for their ambiguous, often depressing conclusions, The Sound of Music is a refuge for our deep human desire to see righteousness rewarded.

The fact that social media pages in 2025 are abuzz with countdowns to the film’s 60th anniversary tells us everything we need to know about the enduring appeal of its optimistic worldview. In an increasingly cynical and dark world, audiences are drawn to narratives that confirm the belief that our choices matter, that good will triumph over evil, and that there is magic in believing in happy endings. The film’s unabashed optimism, its acceleration of life’s moral process, and its clear rewards for virtue are not flaws, but rather vital ingredients in its staying power.

No discussion of The Sound of Music would be complete without celebrating its extraordinary musical landscape. The film’s soundtrack is a musical feast that combines notes of traditional Austrian folk music with the innovative spirit of its composers. This is, perhaps, because the original vision of the stage musical incorporated only Austrian folk music.

What most don’t know is that Rodgers and Hammerstein were originally only asked to compose one song for the Broadway show that would star Mary Martin as Maria. The rest of the music was supposed to be based on Austrian folk tunes. Richard Rodgers, however, rightfully realised that any melody he would create would likely sound out of place alongside older tunes. He proposed writing an entirely new score for the musical. Aside from two new songs written for the film and two removed, this same score is what we hear beautifully performed in the 1965 film.

The only place in this score where a sense of folk music still exists is in the song “Edelweiss,” which holds the unique distinction of being the last song Oscar Hammerstein II wrote before his death. Its melody, so reminiscent of an old Austrian folk tune, was so convincing that director Robert Wise assumed it was an authentic relic of folk tradition. In one famous behind-the-scenes moment, Wise expected the Austrian extras in the music festival scene to know the tune by heart—only to find that they required hours of coaching to capture its nuance and authenticity.

The film’s musical revisions extended beyond preserving tradition; they also involved significant improvements on the stage musical’s original songs. One notable change was the replacement of the pedestrian and unromantic “Ordinary Couple” with the far more stirring “Something Good.” This new piece not only enhanced the film’s emotional resonance but also provided a musical metaphor for the transformative power of love and hope.

However, amidst the praise, there remains a tinge of disappointment over the cutting of “No Way to Stop It.” This song, which in the stage version showcased the moral grey areas and ambiguities of many upper-class Austrians, was intended to add a layer of complexity to the narrative. However, one can hardly imagine how such a moment of moral ambivalence would have fitted into the world of The Sound of Music, where even characters with shades of moral uncertainty are ultimately compelled to choose a definitive side. The decision to omit it, while lamentable to some, preserves the film’s clean aesthetic—a choice that reinforces the film’s foundational promise: that in the end, good is unmistakably rewarded, and evil inevitably faces retribution.

Much of the film’s enduring charm can be attributed to the visionary work of screenwriter Ernst Lehman. Lehman was the mastermind behind many of the most memorable and necessary changes to the stage play. His script not only streamlined the narrative but also enriched it with subtle touches that deepened the film’s thematic impact. Lehman’s writing captures the inherent magic of the Salzburg landscape—its sprawling vistas, shimmering lakes, and rugged mountains—which serve as both a physical and symbolic backdrop to the story. The utilisation of the Austrian landscape is nothing short of breathtaking, offering viewers a visual feast that complements the film’s lyrical quality and reinforces its message of nature’s enduring beauty and resilience.

Equally instrumental in bringing Lehman’s script to life was director and producer Robert Wise. An equally inspired creative force, Wise was so entranced by Lehman’s vision that he postponed another project—a drama that never saw the light of day—in order to devote his full attention to The Sound of Music. This decision, in hindsight, was a stroke of genius. Wise’s dedication to the project is evident in every frame, every musical note, and every sweeping shot of the Austrian countryside. His ability to balance the film’s fantastical elements with the raw beauty of its setting helped create a cinematic experience that transcends the bounds of mere entertainment.

Not everyone was immediately taken with the film’s unabashed optimism. During production, actor Christopher Plummer, a figure whose cynicism would later mirror that of some of the film’s harsher detractors, openly agreed with critics that the film was too saccharine. Plummer’s reservations were rooted in his belief that such overt sweetness and moral clarity bordered on the unrealistic, particularly when juxtaposed with the complex social and political undercurrents of the era. Perhaps his disdain for the material added to his impressive performance, and stern, no-nonsense character. The fact that his moments of patriotic rebellion against the Nazi regime are some of the most compelling and, indeed, realistic in the film is also, perhaps, due to his feelings on the matter—or to the fact that he was drunk much of the time (as in the infamous music festival scene).

However, as history has shown, the audience did not share either Plummer’s or many film critic’s pessimism. Instead, they embraced the beautifully sweet tale, propelling it to become the longest-running theatrical release of all time—a record that eventually surpassed even Gone with the Wind (1939).

In a remarkable turn of events, even the most hardened of critics came to see the beauty and joy that The Sound of Music so effortlessly exudes. The film’s success was ultimately cemented by its critical acclaim, culminating in an impressive haul of five Academy Awards, including the coveted ‘Best Picture’ award in 1965. This recognition from the Academy is not merely a nod to the film’s technical and artistic merits, but also an acknowledgment of its profound impact on audiences—a film that dares to promise that life, when lived with integrity and joy, will always find its happy ending.

As we reflect on over a half-century of The Sound of Music, it’s impossible not to appreciate its enduring legacy in an era increasingly marked by cynicism and moral ambiguity. In a time when many films opt for unresolved endings, ambiguous characters, and a refusal to provide clear answers, The Sound of Music stands as a beacon of hope. It reminds us that, deep down, we all yearn for narratives that affirm the value of goodness and the ultimate triumph of love over hate. The film’s simplistic portrayal of good versus evil is not a sign of naivety, but rather a powerful statement about the universal human desire for justice and the reassurance that our moral choices matter.

The magic of The Sound of Music lies in its ability to transport us to a world where music and nature conspire to create moments of pure, unadulterated beauty. Its songs have become anthems for generations, echoing through concert halls, living rooms, and social media feeds alike. Even in 2025, as we count down the days to its 60th anniversary, the film’s influence is palpable—not only as a piece of cinematic history but also as a living, breathing testament to the power of optimism and the necessity of a happy ending.

In an increasingly complex and, at times, disheartening world, The Sound of Music offers a form of escapism that is both refreshing and essential. It reassures us that despite the chaos and the often harsh realities of life, there is still room for beauty, kindness, and the kind of magic that only music can bring. It is a film that dares to say that if we choose to live our lives in service of others, embracing the light even in the darkest times, we too will be rewarded. And in that promise, we find hope—a hope that resonates across generations and continues to inspire us all.

As we celebrate this milestone anniversary, let us honour The Sound of Music not just as a film, but as a cultural touchstone that embodies the timeless truth: that life, when illuminated by music and guided by a clear moral compass, can indeed be a beautiful journey toward a brighter, more hopeful future.

In the end, the film’s legacy is a reminder that our world is enriched by moments of magic—moments when the power of music, the allure of nature, and the certainty of good triumphing over evil converge to create a firm footing for hope. In an era where many are quick to embrace pessimism and ambiguity, The Sound of Music stands firm as a celebration of optimism—a clear call to cherish the beauty of life and to believe that, ultimately, our choices define our destiny.

The Sound of Music teaches us that there is undeniable strength in its unrealism, a strength that makes it a timeless masterpiece. In a society that often grapples with the moral complexities of modern life, its clear demarcation between good and evil provides a comforting, if idealistic, resolution. And while some may argue that the film’s saccharine sweetness is unrealistic, it is exactly this trait that fuels our longing for a world where justice prevails and the triumph of goodness is assured.

As we look back on 60 years of enchantment, it becomes clear that The Sound of Music is much more than just a film—it’s an enduring celebration of music, magic, and the belief in happy endings. In today’s dark and cynical world, where ambiguity and moral relativism often reign, this film reminds us of the transformative power of hope and the timeless need for stories that uplift and inspire.

Ultimately, The Sound of Music is a film that has given us not just a collection of beautiful songs and breathtaking scenery, but a philosophy—a belief in the possibility of redemption, a call to embrace our better angels, and a promise that the rewards of a good life will always shine through, no matter how bleak the circumstances may seem. And that, in the end, is a legacy worth celebrating.

USA | 1965 | 174 MINUTES | 2.20:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH • GERMAN

Cast & Crew

director: Robert Wise.
writer: Ernest Lehman (based on the stage musical by Howard Lindsay & Russel Crouse & ‘The Story of the Trapp Family Singers’ by Maria von Trapp).
starring: Julie Andrews, Christopher Plummer, Richard Haydn, Peggy Wood, Charmian Carr & Eleanor Parker.