Lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II

Music by Richard Rodgers

Directed by Elizabeth Newman

Review by Dominic Corr

Tickets from £15.00

A frosty afternoon in Pitlochry must be in the mix to be on a list of our favourite things. Now add in a day spent surrounded by a beaming audience, bunting and decorations for the seasons to mark their closing production of the season, and that makes this a pretty damn hard list to top. As the final production for Elizabeth Newman’s tenure as the Artistic Director of the Pitlochry Festival Theatre, The Sound of Music, Rodgers and Hammerstien’s story of the Vonn Trapp family, loosely adapted from Maria von Trapps memoir, has long become a familiar and beloved festive watch for families around the globe.

The story of family, hope, and a nudge from Newman that the time for ‘wait-and-see’ has long passed: that it’s now or never to speak up for our neighbours. It primarily follows a spirited postulant sent to be a governess for the Von Trapp children; the home gradually fills with love – as the surrounding Austria fills with jackboots. As the shadow of war and violence encroaches, indeed has settled, within Europe again, Newman’s The Sound of Music doesn’t need to be heavy-handed in its references or allegories – many of which remain as powerful as ever in a production which finds heft and weight behind the (occasionally overly light-hearted) emotion and song.

So, in solving a problem like Maria, Newman had the best answer – they’ve been in Pitlochry all year long. Their third leading role in this season’s repertoire, to say that Kirsty Findlay’s previous roles were building to this crescendo would be a disservice to their work in Carole King or Footloose – but entirely accurate. A different Maria, one with the poise and wit audiences expect from Julie Andrew’s defining role, but with a firmness and flow which places this Maria more at home in the hills of Perthshire than the Alps. Leading a large ensemble of actor-musicians and a septet of Von Trapp children (played by two talented youth groups, with Sally Cheng as a bright-eyed but canny Liesel), the show is in solid standing from the start.

Findlay’s fluidity and charm are inescapably warming, making the about-face turns of Ali Watt’s Captain Von Trapp understandable, even if the script is rushing them a tad. Another role synonymous with a famous performance, that of the late Christopher Plummer, Watts is stoic, gradually breaking down the barriers of character, a stern, occasionally unyielding presence on stage – the openness which develops under Newman’s physical direction is welcome, more rhythmic in movement, long before their vocals are called into action. But when required, it leads up to the role’s pinnacle moment, a profoundly haunting Edelweiss, which is as much a melody of healing as a re-opened wound for many in trying times.

Offering levity, much needed by the finale, Christian Edward’s Max is one of theatrical nuance and a wealth of entertainment without being boisterous or over-reaching. With subtle hints of fear within Edwards captured throughout the production, it is never overstated, but it is enough to know the depth of the character behind the obvious. While Elliot Gooch’s young telegram boy, lured in by the Far-Right, Rolf, provides sublime vocals where needed and a reminder of the reality of choices and broken dreams, doing what they believe to be best for their nation.

A surprising element here is Ruari Murchison’s design, which utilises the darkness that so ominously looms overhead for the family, Austria, and the rest of the World. Often, characters slip in and out of the shadows, the rotating stage varying between a polished black and emerald for the Abbey, Kate Milner Evans’ Mother Abbess putting their pipes to the ultimate test for Climb Ev’ry Mountain. And on the reverse, a pearl-like marble captures the entryway to the Von Trapps home. Encircling it, the actor-musicians take their places, led by musical director Richard Reeday, retreating from their roles without (much) distraction, though it can occasionally throw off the sounding balance. The levels at play, thanks to the construction of the set, allow beautiful mirroring, with Hannah Baker’s Elsa Schraeder and Maria on opposing sides, or characters of high rank or regard to having to descend or impose themselves, which brings an intimacy and sense of threat always.

Unbeknownst that it would be their final show as the theatre’s Artistic Director, Newman’s The Sound of Music could not have been a more perfect bookend to their tenure at the venue – one which stands up to the voices of adversity, no matter how loud they scream. Standing with a firm heart and a bright light of hope, but most crucially, a matching assertion that pushes back against the tyranny that too many choose to sit out or ‘wait and see’ – Scotland’s ‘Theatre in the Hills’ may be gearing up for a new voice at the helm, but still, the legacy Newman passes continues to trickle out of the auditorium over the Perthshire landscape and draw audiences in through a combination of forces which Newman ties together so expertly: nostalgic and cherished, with devotion and clarity.

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