![]() The clash of her absolute sincerity with his sly knowing style is part of what converted the show into kitsch, wherein lies its real worth. He called it the "Sound of Mucus" and delivered his lines in a tone so sardonic, only Andrews' superior fire power could neutralize them. Being in a musical isn't just a singing job, which is how Christopher Plummer, a veteran stage actor who started his career in productions of Ibsen, Shakespeare and Euripides, found himself cast as Captain von Trapp, something he has grumbled about ever since. Underwood will, no doubt, sell it for all that she's worth, but there are certain things one doesn't look to winners of American Idol to deliver and guilelessness is one of them. Julie Andrews rescued the movie with a sort of weapons-grade gladness, her performance turning on that rare ability to present risible material with absolute conviction. ![]() As we know in our hearts – come on, dig deep – the Sound of Music is basically terrible: too long, too pious, too laboured in its point-making. In Times Square, there's a huge poster of her in Austrian drag, teeth blazing like strip lighting, a look on her face that seems to say, "Hey! Come join me in the casual destruction of a staple of the American songbook!" As if that corner of New York couldn't get more depressing. Joining all the other things to make one's spirits sink at this time of year – dark mornings, low temperatures, Susan Boyle's inevitable Christmas album – is Thursday night's live NBC production of the Sound of Music starring Carrie Underwood.
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