‘The Sound of Music’ at 60: The hills are still alive

In honor of the 2025 Oscars, we look back at one of the most beloved movies in Hollywood history, The Sound of Music.

A long sixty years ago, The Sound of Music burst onto screens, a three-hour epic of love and loss, music and defiance, nuns and Nazis, romance and resistance. A blockbuster musical, a family drama, a war story—somehow, miraculously, all at once. It waltzed into history and hasn’t left us since.

But it almost didn’t happen.

Back in the early ’60s, Hollywood was staring down the end of the roadshow musical. The genre was losing steam, sinking under its own spectacle. Then West Side Story (1961) came along, and studios thought, “Hm, maybe there is some life still left in the most bombastic genre of all time.” Enter Robert Wise, fresh off directing West Side Story, a man who knew his way around a grand musical and a grounded story. Then came 20th Century Fox, a studio drowning in the financial disaster of 1963’s Cleopatra, desperate for a hit. And then, finally, Julie Andrews, fresh from Mary Poppins, with a voice like a bell and a presence like actual light itself.

The film was shot in Austria, in breathtaking Technicolor, with a cast of children who charmed audiences and tested Wise’s patience (one of them nearly drowned on set, another refused to dance on cue). Christopher Plummer, brooding, skeptical, unsure about the whole thing, called it “The Sound of Mucus” behind the scenes. The critics, at first, agreed.

Pauline Kael hated it. Said it was syrupy, manipulative, too much. But audiences? They obviously disagreed.

Let’s talk about why.

For starters, The Sound of Music isn’t just a musical. It’s a masterclass in emotional storytelling from A to Z, a female Z.

On paper, it’s a simple enough setup. Maria, a free-spirited postulant, is sent to the Von Trapp villa to govern seven rigidly disciplined children. She turns their world upside down with music, mischief, and a whole lot of life. Along the way, she falls in love with their father—a grieving Captain who’s locked his heart away in naval orders and whistles. Meanwhile, Austria is being swallowed whole by the Nazi regime, and the Von Trapps must make an impossible choice: stand by, stay silent, or run for their lives.

But what the movie does—what it achieves—is pure movie magic.

The pacing is seamless. Three hours feel like barely two. Every scene flows into the next like a symphony. The “Do-Re-Mi” montage is a masterpiece of efficiency—one song, and we watch Maria win the children over, see them transform from stiff little soldiers into joyful, laughing kids. And we believe every second. Even the romance, easily in danger being too trite, earns its swoon. The Captain and Maria don’t just “fall in love,” they learn each other, see each other. The slow-dance in the garden is an entire love story in a single scene.

And yes, the music soars. It’s Rodgers & Hammerstein at their best, infusing melody with character, constantly driving the heartbeat of the film. “I Have Confidence” turns Maria’s fear into resolve. “Edelweiss” is the Captain’s unspoken farewell to his country. “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” isn’t just an inspirational anthem—it’s the film’s thesis statement. Keep going. Find your dream. Never stop moving forward.

The movie hurts. It stings. Too many simply remember it as some happy-go-lucky singalong, but absolutely not. The Sound of Music breaks your heart. The final act—the family hiding in the abbey, the Nazis closing in, the desperate escape into the mountains—it’s real, breathtaking tension. And it works because the stakes have been thoroughly established and abided. The film has spent hours making us fall for this family. When they run, we run with them.

Finally, the cinematography. The cinematography. Those opening shots are the stuff of legends, instantly and everlastingly iconic. Ted McCord’s camera sweeps across the Alps and then—boom—Maria enters the frame, twirling, owning the world around her. The Von Trapp house feels massive and cold at first, then warm and full by the end. The Salzburg backdrop isn’t just pretty, it’s history, looming behind every decision the characters make.

So yeah, some of the critics at the time missed the point.

Because The Sound of Music was never just about music. It was about the sound of courage.

Maria is courageous—choosing love over safety, choosing life over fear. The Captain is courageous—rejecting tyranny, choosing his family over his homeland. Even the children are brave and bold. Watching their world shift, adapting, growing, singing their way through the dark.

That’s why it worked. That’s why it still works.

And the proof is in the numbers.

It made over $286 million in its initial run. The highest-grossing film of all time at the time. It saved 20th Century Fox from bankruptcy. It won Best Picture, Best Director, and three more Oscars. It still airs every holiday season. Salzburg still hosts The Sound of Music tours. People still sing along.

60 years later, we are still watching. Still singing. Still climbing mountains.

And the hills?

The hills are still alive.