It came as a shock. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did. After all, The Sound of Music hasn’t been making and breaking box-office records – stage and film – for nigh on 60 years on account of its grainy, gritty edginess. Still, it took me aback – the sheer, picture-book wholesomeness of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s first half (light through convent bars, pink sunset beyond mountain pines, lemon-coloured classical mansion - Al Parkinson’s set). Lovely to look at, delightful to listen to (under Ben Atkinson’s musical direction), but built around a clunky, old-fashioned set-up/song/scene-change structure (punctuated by fluid moments from Drew McOnie’s choreography).
Somehow I’d expected something else from Paul Kerryson’s final show as artistic director here, concluding his extraordinary run of 23 years as artistic director of Leicester Theatre Trust. He has always shown such dedication to glamour, glitz and gorgeousness, and to programming slick musicals that direct the beams of their spangles on to murky areas of real life: the Depression - 42nd Street; racism – Hairspray; corruption – Chicago. What was this?
The second half answers the question – the simple sincerity of the love story between Maria (Laura Pitt-Pulford radiates joyous energy) and Captain von Trapp (Michael French melts like snow from a mountain) dovetails with their dogged determination not to capitulate to Nazi domination. The potential for schmaltz and self-righteousness is averted by the presence of the children (strongly individual, skilled performances with not a touch of toe-curling “winsomeness”): in learning to sing and play, they demonstrate the power and worth of true human values based in love and mutual respect. The framing device of the convent offers a universalising perspective – and a nun’s chorus of particularly hearty Latin hymns.
Kerryson’s choice strikes a note today: hold on to your beliefs, however dark the times.
