Now, this is a tricky one. This story about an Austrian family’s escape from Nazi occupation first appeared on screen as a (west) German film with Austrian folk songs. Following its success in the European market, Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein adapted it, first as a Broadway musical and then as a Hollywood film.
I cannot strive for objectivity when it comes to the Hollywood film (I have not watched the German version — maybe that review will drop some day) because too many fond childhood memories cloud my judgement. However, going into this adaptation by Landestheatre Niederbayern, I was not expecting fidelity.
Their decision to use the American and not the German film as the source material is nevertheless fascinating. In practical terms, this meant that it was a musical with German dialogues and English songs (with German subtitles). Although advertised as such, there were, in fact, very few dialogues. The play seemed to have two additional songs to offset rather long conversations.
I am not really an expert on how ‘musical’ a musical should be, but the fact that the (adult) singers were frankly brilliant meant that I could overlook the liberties they took with the characters and the storyline. Both the Mother Abbess and Captain von Trapp lost some of their gravitas as the plot stepped aside to allow a full range to the artistes’ vocal chords. As such, it is hard to quibble with such a treat.
What is harder to ignore is the politics — not just of Nazi aggression (I will come to that in a minute), but also of ‘language and symbolic power’1. This musical is an Austrian story about German occupation, which I watched in a city that is separated from Austria by a river. And yet, the theatre chose to rely on the American version.
This German tendency to rely overtly on the American perspective on the Nazi excesses rather than evolve its own independent view on that period of history is a constant source of disenchantment to my Indian-German soul. Despite the fascination my younger Indian self felt for the Hollywood film, as a postcolonial citizen of the world, I am aware of the dangers of letting others determine how your story, including the worst aspects of it, is told.
German reckoning of its Nazi past is something that has been rightfully celebrated, for other European societies are still far from any kind of collective self-reflection on the colonial horrors they have perpetrated — and continue to do so. But the sheen of German reading of its history has worn off in the recent past with what can only be described as guilt-porn.
While it would be catastrophic to stop reading about and highlighting the darker periods of German history, what is clear is that the narrative displays a cognitive disonance (I have written about this in my review of the Netflix show Kleo). This reading of history in the German publics (a la Jürgen Habermas2), detaches guilt from emotions. You do not feel guilt; it is something you do. And, more importantly, it is something Americans have taught you how to perform. Americans themselves, meanwhile, remain unrepentent for the sins of their own past … and present.
In the musical’s defense, this ambivalence is probably essential, for, whose story is this anyway? Of the Germans or Austrians or Bavarians (the ones who mounted this show), whom I often perceive as some kind of cousins of the Austrians. And yet, are Austrians not implicated in this story despite themselves being the victims? I have driven through Hitler’s birth town — just on the Austrian side of the border it shares with Germany — several times over and often marvelled at how seamless the landscapes and cultures on both sides of the borders are.
It was probably much easier to go with how the Americans perceive us (both Germans and Austrians) than how our own artistes from the 1950s dealt with the story. Those associated with the German cinema from the 1950s most certainly had links with the erstwhile Nazi regime — this is how German publics perceive the world and they are probably not wrong.
Reckoning with Germany’s past involves performing a clean break, for we do not want to be contaminated by association. Such a clean break does not exist in reality and one feels the dishonourable connection at an intangible, emotional level. In concrete terms though, we perform this lie we ourselves do not believe in.
The Americans, on the other hand, offer a fun ride that takes attention away — for the most part — from the backdrop of Nazi expansion. My younger self that rejoiced for 3/4ths of the film would just vaguely register that this fun family had to flee from their home for some reason I had not fully comprehended. The escape itself, more dramatic than the Von Trapp family’s real-life journey, promised to be the beginning of another adventure.
Depatures: Metaphorical and Literal
All this is tragic because the small changes to the Hollywood version represent a quiet rebellion, a subversive attempt to take back control over the story, our collective story.
The first change deals with the relationship Captain von Trapp shares with his partner of that time, Baronness von Schräder. The film, true to its time perhaps, sees this as a cliched, universal tale where an old man dumps a partner of his own age for a much younger woman (barely out of her teens), who is full of life and dreams. The Baronness is, in contrast, cast more in the role of a future evil stepmother who might be shipping off the kids to a boarding school. The younger, penniless nun-in-training, Maria, loves them selflessly.
The musical I watched turns this sexist plot around while also giving the Baroness agency and dignity. She quite likes the children and encourages them to sing despite their strict father’s disapproving stance. As an older, wiser woman, she not only understands and recognises the invading Nazi army for what it is, she also weighs in her options. When she sees that the captain is stubbornly determined to resist the conquest, she pleads with him to let the invading army run its course and bade his time. She worries for the consequences his defiance may have for the children and herself and decides to break off her engagement with a man who refuses to be pragmatic.
History is written by heroes who will fight a losing battle and Schräder is old enough and too worldly-wise to be a hero. She also seems to recognise that the Nazi occupation cannot last forever.
The Baronness understands that Maria will replace her and would probably, in her youthful enthusiasm, follow the Captain blindly — she was right. Maria supports the Captain in plotting an escape and even proposes that the small children undertake a perilious journey.
The musical perceives the reality of living in Austria in 1938 and the tough choices, which stretch the meanings of right and wrong, people had to make much better than the Americans, who arrived on the scene much later. The Americans judge the German-speaking world for its cowardice and malice and the Germans have, over the years, internalized this judgement. But emotions, as can be expected from a musical, betray that a different understanding exists — not a resentful approach, but one tinged by melancholy and sorrow.
When I watched the film over and over as a child, I followed the story through the perspective of its children. Today, I am probably as old as Schräder would be and I feel torn between protecting myself (an immigrant and person of colour in Germany) and my family, on the one hand, and the need to resist fascism, on the other. People are often pulled between idealism and pragmatism and the musical recognises this because the cast and crew belong in this milieu.
Hope in Bleaker Times
The second and very crucial change is the conduct of the telegram delivery boy and the oldest child Liesl’s boyfriend, Rolfe.
As part of a dramatic escape, the von Trapp family has been hidden away by the nuns who had brought up Maria. Rolfe, who has joined the Sturmabteilung or the Brownshirts. is part of the search to round up the defiant family.
In the American version, Rolfe hesitates because of Liesl’s passionate appeal. Captain von Trapp, a seasoned military man, takes advantage of the momentary confusion and intimidates the boy into silence with the sheer force of his personality. As Rolfe watches the family flee from under his nose, he rallies around and informs his Sturmführer.
In the musical I watched, this dramatic scene is almost entirely edited out with Rolfe informing his superior without any hesitation that the family is not to be found. Rolfe’s resolute decision is presented without context or explanation; the audience is left to imagine his motivations — perhaps, it is young love or his own lack of convinction in the cause itself. In an earlier scene with Liesl, Rolfe goes into some detail discussing the ‘Germanness’ of the Austrians without sounding entirely convinced of the reasoning himself.
Whether or not it is an act of bravery, the young boy is meant to give us hope. That faced with a difficult decision pertaining to ideological musings far beyond the comprehension of an impressionable teenager, the footsoldiers of facism are just as likely to make humanitarian decisions as they are to undertake barbaric acts.
As the dark clouds gather over Germany again (in the latest opinion polls, the fascist party has overtaken the main conservative party), the country and its people desperately needs that hope.
Postscript
I mentioned earlier that this was a Bavarian theatre company that performed this musical in a city separated from Austria by a river. So does this add something to the overall experience?
Towards the end of the musical, the captain rendered the heartwarming Edelweiss song as an ode to the nation in these dark times. I could see several people in the audiences dabbing their eyes. Outside, many cars with Austrian number plates pulled over to pick up the audience members and I wondered if they belonged to the ones who had been moved to tears. I like to think that they felt that these Bavarians/Germans had done justice to their story. Our collective story.
It has been reported in the past that the Austrians have had a particular disdain for the Edelweiss song. Either I was deluded or it actually made a difference when a German in place of an American was seen singing this melody.
https://www.hup.harvard.edu/books/9780674510418
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Theory_of_Communicative_Action