The Sound of Music: Patriarchal Nightmare or A Blueprint For The Perfect Wife?

Welcome to "Double Exposure" - where we review classic media through two opposing lenses and leave it up to you - the reader - to decide who has it right. Today: The Sound Of Music gets the Double Exposure treatment. 
Double Exposure

The Sound Of Music

Where we review classic media through two opposing lenses and leave it up to you — the reader — to decide who has it right.

Today’s split-screen: The Sound of Music - Patriarchy vs The Good Wife
Feature Two takes, one classic
Read time: ~6–8 minutes

Editor’s note: Open each take below and decide which you agree with, and which makes you hopping mad. 

Take One The Hills Are Alive… With The Sound Of Patriarchy by Rosie Pankhurst. Click to open

The Sound of Music is one of the most celebrated musical films of all time. More than 60 years after its release, it still draws audiences — many in costume — to sing-along screenings, and fans from around the world routinely travel to Salzburg, the Alps, and other iconic locations to bask in the atmosphere of the film. But does the saccharine-sweet nature of this Nazi-backdropped film belie an even more chilling reality?

Let’s start with Maria. Maria’s free spirit is presented as a “problem” from the start of the film. In fact, there is a song about it. While the song makes a pretence of framing her joyful and whimsical nature as a positive (she is a “moonbeam”, a “cloud”, a “lamb”), she is also explicitly referred to as a “demon” who could “drive a hornet from its nest.” Before we even get into how much this smacks of ableism (the song could be describing almost any person with ADHD), we need to grapple with the fact that the film from the outset presents Maria as a problem to be solved and a spirit to be squashed.

So far, so feminist, right? Maria realises a life shackled to the oppressive church is not for her and sets out on her own. If only — if ONLY — the place she sets out to isn’t so much worse for her. Sent off to be a governess to the equally free-spirited Von Trapp children, this outcome is presented as a chance for her to “consider her options” before joining the church. Maria cannot be allowed to simply “be”. She must “be useful”.

The remainder of her time with the Von Trapps is presented as a love story where her kind ways win over the children, and her love of music softens the heart of the grizzled Captain Von Trapp, but let’s look a little bit closer.

Firstly, the Captain rules his home with an iron yet absent fist. Sure, it is presented as the outcome of a husband grieving his lover, but farming parenting duties off to governesses and then blaming them for any perceived shortcomings in his children is a major red flag. He displays nothing but contempt and disappointment for them unless they are militaristically disciplined (having unique whistles to call them? Maybe it is him who is the real Nazi here.). Granted, he softens when he hears them singing, but why should his love be so conditional?

Secondly, the Captain falls in love with Maria very quickly, despite already being in a serious relationship. A charitable reading of this might suggest “love at first sight”, but I propose another take: here is a woman who will take care of his brood for free, leaving him able to galivant around the world enjoying himself as a single man. Elsa — his paramour — seems like a perfectly nice person who comes with status equal to his own and with whom he clearly had enough of a connection to propose. So why cut her loose to marry the very attractive woman who also happens to be able to look after his children? Easier to escape one household than two. How do I know the Captain values his freedom so much? The film frames his conscription into the German Navy as if he were being taken to a deathcamp. Is it Nazis he opposes, or the loss of his freedom?

When Maria marries the Captain, we get a reprise of “How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?” You apparently “solve” it by having her marry a military man and serve as stand-in mother to his kids. Maria exchanges one type of captivity for another. She is never “free”.

We haven’t even had time to talk about Liesel and Rolf’s teen romance and the chilling implications of “You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do.” Sure, Rolf ends up being a Nazi, but “16 Going on 17” is very much presented as “young love”, not “red flags in a nazi husband”.

Finally, can we talk about the ending? The daring “escape” of the family only matters because the Captain escapes with them. He is the only person the Nazis want (and again — to give him a commission). Would it have been so terrible for the family to relocate without their patriarch? Would it have been so terrible for the free spirits to go free together? According to this movie — yes. Yes it would.


Margin note: If you want to push back, open Take Two and compare what each take assumes about “freedom”.

Take Two Bring Back The Classics – How Old Musicals Can Give Us A Blueprint For Modern Living by Matt Goodwyfe Click to open

Classics are classics for a reason. From Citizen Kane to Birth Of A Nation, there is a reason old movies stay in rotation, and The Sound Of Music is no different.

Taking out the stunning aerial shots, wonderful casting, and heartfelt melodies, The Sound Of Music remains relevant for one major reason: it is about family.

Or should I say, about Family. With a capital F. This is a film which puts the family unit at its heart and which we in 2026 can all learn a valuable lesson from.

The protagonist of this film appears carefree on the surface, but under Maria’s seemingly joyous exterior, there is a troubling sadness and darkness. Why else would the nuns in her own convent describe her as “demon” as they discuss the various ways she is unfit for monastic life? This is fully understandable, as a life devoted to Christ is typically reserved for two kinds of woman: the barren and the brazen. At film start, it is unclear which category Maria best fits into. We know she has no children of her own, or she would not be taking the cloth. And yet she is unable to temper her wild nature to properly serve Christ.

And thus begins her rehabilitation. This is a woman who knows she is out of place and yet does not know why. But with the Von Trapp family, she finds salvation. Despite initially resisting the stern but sensible ways of Captain Von Trapp, Maria soon finds herself awakening to her true calling — motherhood. As she learns the needs and wants of the family — including the captain himself — Maria begins to find a useful channel for her excess spirit. She learns how to truly make a difference for the family by tapping into the needs and wants of the patriarch and helping his children to do the same. And — perhaps most importantly — her kind and patient nature help the Captain to see this too.

Maria is everything a man could ask for in a good wife. She looks after the home and children with love and commitment and she makes her husband feel safe and secure in trusting her. Even Elsa — the “other woman” — can see clearly exactly how much Maria has grown and embodies the spirit of a good wife, and she gently steps down. Indeed, Maria’s brief return to the convent before she is able to fulfil her destiny as the Captain’s bride shows how changed she is by recognising the thing that made her feel out of place — lack of a family.

Don't take my word for it - Maria herself shows us this profound sadness and lack through her own singing. What show do she and the children present for the Captain and his guests? The story of The Lonely Goatherd: a person who sings a solo, lonely song until the song is sang back to him. Consider Maria at the beginning of the film singing alone and dwarfed by the splendor of the Alps. Now compare this to Maria at the end: no longer alone, and joyously part of a family. The Lonely Goatherd is a metaphor for Maria herself: finding her true self through sharing her song with others - specifically the family she needs to feel complete. 

That is not to say Maria’s time with the children does not reveal some flaws in her suitability as a wife and mother. Agreeing to keep Liesel’s secret, for example, is something most men would be aghast at. Maria and Liesel learn their lesson when Rolf is revealed to be a Nazi. His steadfast and sensible veneer hid a dark undercurrent. If only Maria had told the Captain, maybe this would have come to the fore sooner.

The denouement of the film — the singing contest and thrilling escape — is a perfect encapsulation of everything a good and god-fearing family unit should be: they sing in harmony, led by the father, the head of the family. With the knowledge that Maria will look after his children and home, the Captain can fully express his own voice. God’s plan for Maria was to be a mother and wife, and — as is shown when the nuns help them escape — he has larger plans for the family than to be caught up in some trivial war.

The Von Trapps are not another family to be left without a male role-model; the Von Trapps are the blueprint families should follow into the 21st century and beyond. Strong male leadership, a caring wife who knows how to manage the household, and children ready to follow their father’s lead. The hills are definitely alive with the sound of music, and it is a music that modern Britain desperately needs to tune into.


Margin note: If you want to push back, reopen Take One and compare what each take assumes about “purpose”.

Comments?

Which take convinced you more — and which line (or assumption) tipped you over the edge?