A BRIEF GUIDE TO THE SOUND OF MUSIC . by Paul Simpson . (Robinson £9.99) For years I’d thought it was Vera Lynn’s We’ll Meet Again they planned to broadcast when the atomic bombs fell, but according to Paul Simpson, in this essential guide to the iconic film, when a nuclear strike is imminent, the BBC intends filling the airwaves with songs from The Sound Of Music. Cynical sorts will argue that having to listen to Do-Re-Mi and My Favourite Things will only make them incredibly impatient for oblivion. Nevertheless the remaining powers-that-be sincerely hope to ‘maintain some semblance of normality’ by exposing us to the ever-optimistic Von Trapps. It has always been easy to sneer at ‘three hours of nuns yodelling’, and Christopher Plummer himself dubbed the picture The Sound Of Mucus. But I for one love it, perhaps because 50 years back my grandmother took me to see it six times at the Capitol Cinema in Cardiff. The Sound of Music could have been very different if the Osmonds had claimed a place in the film . I always hid under the seat when the Nazis prowled around the convent, and to this day I haven’t seen the bit where the nuns sabotage the cars. It was a film that appealed to women who had domineering husbands — all those glowering Captain Von Trapp sorts who expected their dinner to be on the table. My grandmother, and millions like her, would love to have been Julie Andrews, cutting up the curtains to make clothes, falling in lakes for fun, rebelliously cycling around the countryside, picnicking and generally being heedless of chores and domestic obligations. In its unlikely and unstrident way, The Sound Of Music was a pioneering feminist rallying cry, and ordinary women, who’d have had no earthly inkling what Germaine Greer was rabbiting on about, embraced it and identified with it. The first surprise in Simpson’s book is that the story begins in England. The Von Trapps were descended from Robert Whitehead, an engineer born in Bolton in 1823. He went abroad to work for a Milanese company and in Trieste, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, he built ‘the first cylindrical marine boiler’ and helped design armour-plated frigates for Kaiser Franz-Josef’s navy. Whitehead’s granddaughter, Agatha, met Captain Georg Von Trapp when he was visiting the factory looking at torpedoes. Julie Andrews (centre) is pictured in 1965 on the set of The Sound of Music with her on-screen step-children . They were married in 1911 and had seven children. Agatha died of scarlet fever in 1922, and Georg moved as a widower to Salzburg. A 21-year-old nun came to help out with the family — Maria Augusta Kutschera. She’d entered the convent, Nonnberg Abbey, to escape abusive uncles and cousins. Exactly as in the film, she was a tomboyish postulant, always having to be rebuked for sliding down banisters, climbing on the roof, jumping over chimneys, and grabbing the other nuns to tickle their ribs. Georg was entranced, and he married his new nanny in 1927. But how much of a mutual love-match was it? Maria ‘suggested to Georg that he go on the honeymoon without her’. At least they could make music. Like Plummer, Georg peeped on a bosun’s whistle to call the children to order, and he accompanied them on a guitar when they had a singing session. By the way, Ronald Reagan sincerely believed that Edelweiss was the official national anthem of Austria. After they’d sung a selection of medieval church music at the Salzburg Festival in 1936, the Von Trapps were invited abroad on tours. They sang before Queen Mary in London and entertained the Pope at the Vatican. It is here that the movie differs from reality. In real life the family left by train for a series of engagements, crossing the Channel and taking a ship from Southampton for New York, arriving in America in October 1938. Though Georg had been reprimanded by the Gestapo for failing to fly the Nazi flag after the Anschluss, there was no actual immediate danger. The five eldest Osmonds (pictured in 1972) are said to have begged to be able to play the Von Trapp children in the famous film . According to Hollywood, however, the Von Trapps crept from the concert hall, hid behind the Nonnberg tombs, and climbed every mountain to freedom carrying heavy instrument cases. In fact, had Julie Andrews, Christopher Plummer and the children kept going on the route they’d chosen, they’d have soon arrived on the terrace in Hitler’s Berchtesgaden.That part of Austria borders Bavaria, not Switzerland. And may I also state for the record that there is no such dish as ‘Schnitzel and Noodles’. The closest you’d find is ‘Gulasch mit Nockerln’. The original Maria Von Trapp was diddled by agents and managers, who persuaded her to sell them the global rights to her story in perpetuity for a paltry flat fee of $10,000, so neither she nor the family made a further penny cent from any of the adaptations. Twentieth Century Fox didn’t even invite Maria to the premiere, in case she ‘eclipsed’ Julie Andrews. I was shocked to discover that many major talents had shunned the chance to put the proven hit on the big screen. Neither Gene Kelly nor Billy Wilder would touch it, as ‘no musical with swastikas in it can be a success’. Rex Harrison, Bing Crosby and Yul Brynner turned down the role of Captain Von Trapp, believing the man to be ‘very much a cardboard figure, humourless and one-dimensional’. Audrey Hepburn, Doris Day and Anne Bancroft didn’t fancy donning a wimple. Audrey Hepburn (left) is said to have turned down the role of Maria, while Bing Crosby (right) rejected the part of Captain Von Trapp, believing it to be 'a cardboard figure' Noel Coward rejected the part of Max, the impresario — a shame. He’d have been brilliant. By contrast, the five eldest Osmonds begged to play the Von Trapp children. They were rejected, thank God, though Marie Osmond was to strum a guitar and play Maria on stage in the Seventies. Of those Aryan-looking youngsters who were finally cast, after their 11 weeks on location in Salzburg and the glorious Salzkammergut in 1964, none was to go on to great things. In late middle age by now, they are variously software designers, flower arrangers, nurses or interior decorators. Regarding the authentic Von Trapps, incidentally, they stopped singing professionally in 1956 and settled in Vermont, where they ran a hotel that burned down in 1980. Maria died in 1987, Georg having long predeceased her, in 1947. Life was never as rosy as in the film: one of the children had electroconvulsive shock treatment for depression, another married a Canadian, and others became dairy farmers. To date there have been 116 cast albums from the innumerable stage productions of The Sound of Music. (The Connie Fisher version lasted from 2006 until 2011.) Sing-a-Long parties are wildly popular, with the audience in costume — I’d go myself but in a nun outfit I do keep being mistaken for Pam Ferris as Sister Angelina. Julie Andrews (left) and Christopher Plummer (right) won the two top roles in the famous film, playing Maria and Captain Von Trapp respectively . The Julie Andrews film is the third highest grossing movie in history, behind Gone With The Wind and Star Wars. (Pre-tax profits of $20 million by 1966 saved Fox from the near-bankruptcy it faced after the Elizabeth Taylor/Richard Burton Cleopatra.) DVD and Blu-ray sales remain buoyant, with an ever-burgeoning number of special features and documentaries. The only place where it has never caught on, ironically, is Austria, where Captain Von Trapp is considered a deserter, which he was if you think about it. The Von Trapp villa became Himmler’s headquarters during the war. The film was also heavily edited in France, where it was felt that nuns shouldn’t be seen singing non-religious songs. For the rest of us, it is more than a movie. The Sound of Music is intimately bound up with childhood memories and emotions, in my case going to Cardiff for all those mid-week matinees, escaping the South Wales coal dust for the pristine Austrian panoramas. Indeed, years later I bought a flat near Salzburg. I’ve done my best to live where the hills are alive — though in actuality they are not these days alive with Rodgers & Hammerstein. What you hear are oompah-bands and men in lederhosen slapping their thighs and playing Wagner by blowing down the tube of a milking machine. Once seen, never forgotten. Especially by the cows. By the way, do get the latest incarnation of the DVD, as it includes an all-new documentary: Julie Andrews Returns To Salzburg. You see, she wasn’t able to leave the film behind either.
The Von Trapps were descended from an engineer from Bolton . Agatha and Captain Von Trapp married in 1911 and had seven children . The children's mother died from scarlet fever in 1922 . The film, however, does not follow the true story in some aspects .