A Letter to Baroness Elsa Schraeder from The Sound of Music

Dearest Elsa, Would it be okay to call you just that? I hope you do not mind. After all I am writing you not as merely a fan, but as a woman, who sees you as an equal and finds you a friend, not a foe. I write because after a long time, I saw you again but for the first time, in a different light. It was Christmas Eve, and out of the sudden compulsion to do something familial over the holidays, my Papa and I decided to put on The Sound of Music. It was always something we looked forward to, watching DVDs (and more recently, Blu-rays) while snuggled up under the covers with the airconditioner at sixteen-degrees. We didnt care about the genres: it can go from Pixar to George Lucas. But somehow musicals always made the top of our list. And The Sound of Music was still the undisputed favorite. We knew all the songs and lines by heart but we never sped through the whole thing we will watch the movie in its entirety, from Julie Andrews famous twirl over the lush, gorgeous Austrian landscape to the familys final ascend atop the Swiss Alps. Even the intermission, which lasts for about ten minutes, does not go unwatched. Its all too familiar to us already, the entire movie. It seems like the songs we have sung for a thousand years, indeed. Still, I could not believe I missed this insight all those years ago, in all the countless times Ive seen it, with my parents or by myself. I call myself a fan and yet I never really saw the movie through a different perspective, which is understandable for any typical movie-goer, but for someone who is a creative writing major, its almost unacceptable. How could I have not seen this movie this way? How could I have not even considered looking at it from another characters point of view? I guess you could blame it on Julie Andrews. She of that perfectly endearing smile, of that goofy, amusing laugh, and of that skinny body, she whose voice we have heard endlessly over the years how can you not be attracted to her? The way she moves on screen is so easy, so light, yet she makes such an impact that its hard not to

notice her any time she appears. The whole story revolves around Maria, sure, but something about Julie Andrews makes you forget about everything else. Like, where did she come from? Whatever did she do that made Sister Berthe call her a devil? Why is she the way she is if her parents died at an early age? What if she really was a troubled, crazy girl and they sent her to a home with seven vulnerable, impressionable children? But Julie Andrews can do no wrong when she graces the screen, all shoulds and shouldnts just fly out the window. Nobody cares if her character is a little too mysterious or peculiar to be exposed to children, and nobody questions the authenticity behind her feelings. She is fun, and quirky, and different, and cute. Shes like the original Manic Pixie Dream Girl, circa World War II, created to pique the interest of people within a one-hundred-meter radius. So irresistible was Julie Andrews that it became too difficult to look at the entire movie from any other angle. The role was written to faultlessness, let alone the actress who played it. You stood no chance, Elsa. But you too had your way of taking the scene with your quiet, subtle presence. After that fantastic scene of Maria and the children parading around Vienna in the DoRe-Mi montage, you graced the film in that elegant suit, in a shade of red as vivid as your personality. Barely five minutes on the screen and already we have felt your biting hauteur. You were a woman who had no qualms about who you were: you had the finest couturier in Vienna, you mingled with a glittering circle of friends, and you held the most lavish parties - that much you embraced without guilt, without shame. But you conveniently knew how to refute all that too (or at least pretend to do so) in all the right moments, if only to gain more. Take all that away and you have just wealthy, unattached little me, searching. Just like you, you cooed. How else could the Captain possibly resist you? You knew the power that money had, but more importantly you knew the power your money and your femininity had. You could make the world kneel before you, and they would not even know.

Lets face it, the union between you and the Captain would never be about love, or at least the hysterical kind. It does not seem like the type of whirlwind romance that would set off dramatic declarations of affections under a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, nor would it ignite an obsessive, fiery brawl that could disrupt a ballroom. It is more of like a hushed agreement or an unspoken contract that spoke more of convenience rather than passion. You were both rich and beautiful and powerful. That was where the problem was because you two made sense. Love shouldnt. You couldnt deny the affections, however. I saw how you looked at Georg, Elsa. I saw how charmed you were with his vulnerability, how suddenly curious you were at the transformation once he stepped in his turf. Suddenly, the naval army commander in crisp gray suits and monotone one-liners was singing through the night like a lark who is learning to pray and he didnt sound bad at all. You were all the more drawn to him, that was for sure. But unlike some juvenile young lass not once did you quiver out of shyness. You never acted coy. While you did not blatantly tell him that you liked him, you were very generous with your hints. And he picked up on them. There was enough hint of witty banter between you two. It was evident in how you teased each other about your ridiculous wealth, how you recognized each others good looks, how you knew your friends would all be pleased (and possibly secretly jealous) at the thought of you getting married. I guess despite the absence of long, yearning glances or profuse stuttering and blushing, we could all assume you definitely saw in each other something that ignited enticement. So it was there truly, the attraction. It has been months since you started seeing each other. The Captain himself acknowledged that, and even the other members of his household. His absence is primarily due to his visits in Vienna. Though we cannot really tell if you guys were ever really official (if people during that time ever worried about such labels), I am

supposing that as mature individuals you two were quite aware of the continuing companionship. There was something there, subtle and understated as it may be. As I saw the film again, with this sudden understanding, suddenly Julie Andrews was no longer the charming, lovable nanny that she was. She stopped being the Cinderella in this story she was suddenly the villain. For how could this girl, who knew nothing about the Captains stories and aches and interests, just suddenly come waltzing in (and in utterly poor clothing too) and so easily snatch him away? Sure she had the better voice and brought music back into the house, but what right did that sneaky bitch had? It all became clear to me that day. You were the victim here. Well, the bias was definitely in her favor. When the Broadway musical was turned into the film, they completely stripped you off your singing parts. That singlehandedly made you incompatible with the Captain. Without the music linking you two, it just was not going to work out, not now, not ever. That was how they saw things. And it was downright unfair, because so what if you could not hum a tune to save your life? You had fancy scarves you could tie around your waist and a diamond brooch to go along all your chiffon and silk suits. That should more than make up for it. To be quite honest, seeing you as the villain is just not acceptable. Anyone who brands you as the other woman deserves a whistle blown to his ears, just to shake him out of his senses. You never did anything to consciously upset the status quo; in fact it was your seemingly smooth-sailing life that had been averted by this governess. Thus, anything you did to somehow avenge yourself in this situation was justified. Those snarky comments? Perfectly warranted. That little eye-roll with a raisedeyebrow? Totally reasonable. Being a complete bitch in a very, very crafty way? Absolutely brilliant. Which is why Im writing you this letter. I want to extend to you my sincerest admiration for the class and sophistication you managed to pull off in the entirety of

this three-hour movie. You were a completely tasteful lady all throughout. You pulled off your move of ultimate bitchiness in complete refinement. You already had a hint of Maria and Georg slowly developing feelings for each other, but you never cracked. You even started teasing them about it. You dropped compliments wrapped in sarcasm. You uttered insults disguised as praise. And in that moment of complete revelation, that moment when you saw them looking deep into each others eyes while dancing to the Laendler (which Im sure you learned too in private school as a little girl), you never winced. You complimented them. With that backhanded praise, you managed to plant in Maria the deadliest weapon of all guilt. How charmingly that worked for you. You were actually quite brave to go up Marias room without carrying a knife or a hardbound book or a vase of some sort and hitting her on the head with it. I couldnt have done that myself, Im sure. It was an act of utter bravery to face ones enemy with only the self as weapon. And to think that Maria was not even your equal. You could go right in and attack her dignity all you want, and she would not stand a chance. But you did something else. You undermined her as she changed for dinner, convincing her that you knew something she herself did not, and that it was something she could not have prevented. It was guilt, enveloped in the masquerade of honesty and friendship. Let's not pretend we don't know when a man notices us, you said to her, under the context that you were doing her a favor as a friend, as a woman. By making her believe you were on the same side, she turned against herself. Oh how truly clever you were! Not a single scathing remark was said that night, but your face grinned in cunning victory as you sipped your champagne afterwards. For that look and everything else, I will forever hold you in high esteem. You have secured for yourself the title of Ice Queen, the divine monarch of the Cold Shoulder. It wasnt Burn, bitch! that was seething through your eyes, it was Frost, baby, and a cold, biting stance did she get far more traumatizing, indeed.

Still, we all know what happened. Maria eventually realized Georg was her mountain and eventually went on to climb it. Georg felt the same. The unraveling of their affections eventually came through, and sadly you had to be pushed out of the picture. You held your head high all throughout, only shedding a single, glistening tear. But while what you said is just one of the many deviations of the Bitter/Independent Girls clich (Fond as I am of you, I really don't think you're the right man for me,) it reeked of the pain that you were trying so hard to disguise. I used to watch that scene and rejoice at how abruptly Georg decided to dispose of you. This time though, the sting hurt me just as much. For in your own version of things, in the musical inside your head, it was you who deserved this man how come he ended up in the arms of someone else? And someone so beneath you at that? How does one get over that? I feel for you now, Elsa. For over forty-five years, you have forever been embedded in the minds of many as that bitchy Baroness. But after all this time, Ive only started to see you as the woman you truly are: someone equally unashamed of her true self, someone who never stooped down to someone elses level, someone who just loved, but ultimately someone who still lost. Fate was cruel to you (and so was Hollywood), and you deserved better than that. In the grand scheme of things, you may not have gotten your Captain in Shining Navy Uniform but I hope your poise and polish translated to good things eventually. I could only pray that I be granted the same composure under such circumstances. And just the same, at the aftermath of every heart ache, at the end of every anguish, over boys and love and everything else in between, I hope I do find what you too were looking for: someone who needs me desperately, just as much, just as well.

A most admiring fan, Karla

P.S. I really hope girls the world over follow your example, too. That would definitely lessen the amount of overly-emotional and tacky heartbroken status updates on the Internet, which we could all do without, really.