The Sound of Music
I had supposed that a convent existed to protect its inmates from the world. In this picture it serves chiefly to protect the world from a young woman named Maria, and presently abandons even that duty.
She is dispatched to a household containing seven children and a retired naval captain, an arrangement which would seem to require either a governess or an armistice.
The captain governs by whistle. Maria governs by song. The children, having examined both constitutions, elect the one which permits excursions.
Miss Andrews sings beautifully. Indeed, she sings so beautifully that one almost forgives the frequency with which she discovers an occasion to do so.
The baroness is the only person present who appears equipped to conduct an ordinary afternoon. Naturally, she must go.
Meanwhile Austria is being annexed, a development which introduces some welcome uncertainty into a plot whose matrimonial outcome has been visible from Switzerland.
At last the family escapes over the mountains. The youngest children manage this remarkably well, considering that their principal training has been in staircases.
It is a handsome and affecting entertainment. I left with renewed faith in children, mountains, and the wisdom of keeping a governess’s references on file.
Love Actually
This picture undertakes to prove that love is everywhere, and employs nearly the entire British acting profession to prevent the proposition from escaping examination.
There are so many courtships that I began assigning them numbers, a system defeated when several persons took an interest in the wrong number.
The prime minister falls in love with a member of his staff. In America this would require a committee; in England it requires a Christmas concert.
A gentleman courts his best friend’s wife by exhibiting written statements at her doorstep. He has evidently mistaken the absence of spoken testimony for innocence.
Another gentleman proposes marriage in Portuguese, a language he has recently acquired for the purpose. I admired his economy. Most husbands spend years learning how to be misunderstood.
Miss Thompson supplies the picture with its conscience. Her husband supplies it with the need for one.
The airport scenes suggest that the authorities will waive any regulation upon satisfactory evidence of a romantic emergency.
I laughed frequently and was moved against my better preparations. The machinery is shameless, but well tended.
I cannot certify that love is everywhere. In this picture, however, it has secured all the available parking.
