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Maria Von Trapp was not in love with Georg when they got married, but that changed.

The Sound of Music has been beloved for generations, partially for the music (and Julie Andrews' angelic voice), partially for the historical storyline, and partially for the love story between Maria and Georg Von Trapp. The idea of a nun-in-training softening the heart of a curmudgeonly widower, falling in love with him, and ultimately becoming a big, happy family is just an irresistible love story.

But it turns out the real love story behind their union is even more fascinating.

maria von trapp, georg von trapp, the sound of music, love story, historyMaria Von Trapp (left) was played by Julie Andrews and her husband Georg was played by Christopher Plummer in "The Sound of Music."Photo credit: Public domain

The National Archives has collected information about what's fact and what's fiction in The Sound of Music, which is based on a real family in Austria named Von Trapp. The film was generally based on the first section of Maria Von Trapp's 1949 autobiography, The Story of the Trapp Family Singers, with some of the details being true and others fictionalized for a movie audience.

For instance, Maria was actually hired on as a tutor for just one of Georg's children, not as a governess for all of them. The children, whose names, ages and sexes were changed, were already musically inclined before Maria arrived. Georg was not the cold, grumpy dad he was portrayed as in the beginning of the film, but rather a warm and involved parent who enjoyed making music with his kids. Maria and Georg were married 11 years before leaving Austria, not right before the Nazi takeover. The Von Trapps left by train, not in a secret excursion over the mountains.

But perhaps the most intriguing detail? Maria was not in love with Georg at all when they got married.

gif, the sound of music, von trapp family, movie, true eventsSound Of Music Flag GIF by The Rodgers & Hammerstein OrganizationGiphy

It doesn't initially make for a great Hollywood romance, but the Von Trapp love story began with marriage for other reasons and evolved into a genuine love story. Maria wrote that she fell in love with Georg's children at first sight, but she wasn't sure about leaving her religious calling when Georg asked her to marry him. The nuns urged her to do God's will and marry him, but for Maria it was all about the children, not him. When Georg proposed, he asked her to stay with him and become a second mother to his children. "God must have made him word it that way," Maria wrote, "because if he had only asked me to marry him I might not have said yes."

"I really and truly was not in love," she wrote. "I liked him but didn't love him. However, I loved the children, so in a way I really married the children."

However, she shared that her feelings for Georg changed over time. "…[B]y and by I learned to love him more than I have ever loved before or after."

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The idea of marrying someone you don't love is antithetical to every romantic notion our society celebrates, yet the evolution of Maria's love for Georg has been a common occurrence across many cultures throughout history. Romantic love was not always the primary impetus for marriage. It was more often an economic proposition and communal arrangement that united families and peoples, formed the basis of alliances, and enabled individuals to rise through social ranks. Some cultures still practice arranged marriage, which limited research has found has outcomes identical to love-first marriage in reports of passionate love, companionate love, satisfaction, and commitment. The idea of marrying someone you don't already love is anathema to modern Western sensibilities, but the reality is that people have married over the centuries for many reasons, only one of which is falling in love.

Maria's marriage to Georg actually was about falling in love, but not with him. She loved his children and wanted to be with them. It definitely helped that she liked the guy, but she wasn't swept off her feet by him, there were no moonlit confessions of love a la "Something Good," and their happily ever after love story didn't come until much later.

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Ultimately, Maria and Georg's love story was one for the ages, just not one that fits the Hollywood film trope. And it's a compelling reminder that our unwritten rules and social norms determining what love and marriage should look like aren't set in stone. Do marriages for reasons other than love always evolve into genuine love? No. Do marriages based on falling in love first always last? Also no. Should a marriage that starts with "like" and develops into to a genuine, deep love over years be considered "true love" in the way we usually think of it? Who can say? Lots to ponder over in this love story.

But Maria's description of learning "to love him more than I have ever loved before or after" is a pretty high bar, so clearly it worked for them. The Von Trapps were married for 20 years and had three more children together before Georg died of lung cancer in 1947. Maria would live another four decades and never remarried. She died in 1987 at age 82 and is buried next to Georg on the family's property in Vermont.

The Prince Charles Cinema/Youtube

Brendan Fraser dressed as Rick O'Connell.

Brendan Fraser might be making the greatest career comeback ever, racking up accolades and award nominations for his dramatic, transformative role in “The Whale." But the OG Fraser fans (the ones who watch “Doom Patrol” solely to hear his voice and proudly pronounce his last name as Fray-zure, for this is the proper pronunciation) have known of his remarkable talent since the '90s, when he embodied the ultimate charming, dashing—and slightly goofball—Hollywood action lead.

Let us not forget his arguably most well-known and beloved '90s character—Rick O’Connell from the “Mummy” franchise. Between his quippy one-liners, Indiana Jones-like adventuring skills, and fabulous hair, what’s not to like? During a double feature of “The Mummy” and “The Mummy Returns” in London, moviegoers got the ultimate surprise when who should walk in but Brendan Fraser himself, completely decked out in Rick O’Connell attire. The brown leather jacket. The scarf. Everything.


stephen colbert, brendan fraser, montclair film festival, red carpet, Stephen Colbert and Brendan Fraser at the Montclair Film Festival 2022.via Montclair Film/Wikimedia Commons

"I am proud to stand before you tonight," he told the audience. "This is a film that was made in Britain. You should know that! Even the second one, too. Be proud. Thank you for being here."

He continued, "We didn’t know if it was a drama or a comedy or a straight-ahead action or romance, a horror picture, more action, all of the above. No idea until it tested in front of British audiences. Thank you for that.”

Fraser then asked the crowd if anyone hadn’t actually seen the movie yet, before shouting, “Outstanding!” when somebody raised their hand. He then quickly made a polite plug, encouraging people to go see “The Whale” before whisking himself away, saying, “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

Uh, yeah…I don’t think any time spent with Brendan Fraser is a waste. Do you?

Watch the adorable clip below:


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Will we ever see Fraser back on the big screen as Rick O'Connell again? There has been talk of a "Mummy 4" that would reunite Fraser and Rachel Weisz, but there are some big hurdles to a fourth installment being produced. First, the "The Mummy" reboot with Tom Cruise in 2017, was a massive bomb that scuttled Universal's attempts to create a cinematic universe around its classic monsters from the '30s and '40s. However, Fraser and "The Mummy" and "The Mummy Returns" director Stephen Summers are interested in the project. Summers told The Hollywood Reporter that he hasn't been approached about doing another "Mummy" film.

"Not that I know," he told The Hollywood Reporter. "All the people at Universal are new after I left. I don’t really know them, and they haven’t got a hold of me, so I don’t know what’s in their heads. At the same time, it would have to be something really special. Of course, I would work with all of those actors again."

This article originally appeared two years ago.

Writer and director Tommy Wiseau.

Since filmmaking began, there have always been some version of "bad movie clubs." You know, the ones where people get together and purposely choose awful (subjective, of course) films to bond over and share a good, harmless laugh. Someone might bring their favorite chips and beer and buzz with ideas as to which delightfully awful movie they could watch next. Sometimes, there are arguments as to what makes something "good" or "bad." But it's usually all in fun and a great way for people to connect.

During the pandemic, those "so bad they're good" movie clubs seemed to multiply, albeit shifting to virtual hangouts. Much like a book club, people logged on, watched films, and had their own Mystery Science Theater experience.

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This trend continues on, both online and in person, and there is seemingly no shortage of cringe-cinema as an excuse to curl up, point, and laugh. There are actually meet-up groups around the world who hold "bad movie nights" as a way for people to get out and meet other like-minded folk. This one, in Australia, is all about the connection: "This club encourages discussion and banter during the screening. Expect some noise!"

Podcasts like Red Letter Media and How Did This Get Made? have dedicated their existence to it, with people clamoring to hear the next take on the worst movies.

In his book Why It's Okay to Love Bad Movies, author Matthew Strohl differentiates between "Bad Movie Ridicule" and "Bad Movie Love," claiming the latter is less about schadenfreude (pleasure derived from someone else's misfortune) and more about an appreciation of the art form from a comedic standpoint, which in turn creates intimacy among communities. In a review of the book, writer Sam Woolfe points out Strohl's brilliant insight as to why this club still needs to feel exclusive:

"If everyone liked bad movies, that would ruin it. There’s no thrill of lowbrow transgression where there’s no contempt from above.”

Other experts have weighed in on why and how this happens. In The Cut's 2017 article," The Psychological Appeal of Really Bad Movies," Adam Kovac notes Harvard assistant psychology professor Mina Cikara's summation:

“Part of the idea is that the presence of other people can intensify the emotional experience. To the extent schadenfreude is still pleasure, despite the fact it’s malicious, one possibility is it amplifies that pleasure by co-experiencing it with other people. Another part of it is it’s affirming of your viewpoint. If I hate a thing and you hate a thing, then I know you see the world the same that I do. That can be a very satisfying experience.”

In the subreddit group r/badMovies, one Redditor shares how his "Bad Movie Club" grew during the pandemic. Starting with a Chinese bootleg of Star Wars: Episode III, followed by The Room, it became a regular way for people to connect during what most considered a very lonely time. He shares, "I also quickly realized I could invite friends and family from outside the state where I live, and so disparate people in different states have gotten to know each other and even become friends over the last few years. Bad movies bring people together, it turns out!"

In fact, one commenter even met their significant other that way:

"I was part of a bad movie (mostly MST3K but others as well) streaming room for a number of years, and it's how I met my partner. Seven years and still going!"

Not only is it fun to watch the movies, it seems equally enjoyable for people to share their picks. Movies like Mac and Me, CATS (2019), Robot Monster, Troll 2—the lists are endless and ever-evolving. It's a gift that keeps on giving—maybe not so much to the filmmakers—but certainly to the fans.

Robin Williams played inspiring English teacher John Keating in "Dead Poets Society."

As a Gen X parent of Gen Z teens and young adults, I'm used to cringing at things from 80s and 90s movies that haven't aged well. However, a beloved movie from my youth that I didn't expect to be problematic, "Dead Poets Society," sparked some unexpected negative responses in my kids, shining a spotlight on generational differences I didn't even know existed.

I probably watched "Dead Poets Society" a dozen or more times as a teen and young adult, always finding it aesthetically beautiful, tragically sad, and profoundly inspiring. That film was one of the reasons I decided to become an English teacher, inspired as I was by Robin Williams' portrayal of the passionately unconventional English teacher, John Keating.

The way Mr. Keating shared his love of beauty and poetry with a class of high school boys at a stuffy prep school, encouraging them to "seize the day" and "suck all the marrow out of life," hit me right in my idealistic youthful heart. And when those boys stood up on their desks for him at the end of the film, defying the headmaster who held their futures in his hands? What a moving moment of triumph and support.

My Gen Z kids, however, saw the ending differently. They loved the feel of the film, which I expected with its warm, cozy, comforting vibe (at least up until the last 20 minutes or so). They loved Mr. Keating, because how can you not? But when the movie ended, I was taken aback hearing "That was terrible!" and "Why would you traumatize me like that?" before they admitted, "But it was so gooood!"

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The traumatize part I get—that film gets very heavy all of a sudden. But in discussing it further, I uncovered three main generational differences that impacted their "Dead Poets Society" viewing experience and what they took away from it.

1) Gen Z sees inspiring change through a systemic lens, not an individual one

The first thing my 20-year-old said when the credits rolled was, "What? That's terrible! Nothing changed! He got fired and the school is still run by a bunch of stodgy old white men forcing everyone to conform!" My immediate response was, "Yeah, but he changed those boys' individual lives, didn't he? He helped broaden their minds and see the world differently."

I realized that Gen X youth valued individuals going against the old, outdated system and doing their own thing, whereas Gen Z values the dismantling of the system itself. For Gen X, Mr. Keating and the boys taking a stand was inspiring, but the fact that it didn't actually change anything outside of their own individual experiences stuck like a needle in my Gen Z kids' craw.

2) Gen Z isn't accustomed to being blindsided by tragic storylines with no warning

To be fair, I did tell them there was "a sad part" before the movie started. But I'd forgotten how deeply devastating the last part of the movie was, so my daughter's "Why would you do that to me?!" was somewhat warranted. "I thought maybe a dog would die or something!" she said. No one really expected one of the main characters to die by suicide and the beloved teacher protagonist to be blamed for it, but I'd somehow minimized the tragedy of it all in my memory.

But also to be fair, Gen X never got any such warnings—we were just blindsided by tragic plot twists all the time. As kids, we cheered on Atreyu trying to save his horse from the swamp in "The Neverending Story" only to watch him drown. Adults showed us "Watership Down" thinking it would be a cute little animated film about bunnies. We were slapped in the face by the tragic child death in "My Girl," which was marketed as a sweet coming of age movie.

Gen Z was raised in the era of trigger warnings and trauma-informed practices, while Gen X kids watched a teacher die on live TV in our classrooms with zero follow-up on how we were processing it. Those differences became apparent real quick at the end of this movie.

3) Gen Z fixates on boundary-crossing behavior that Gen X overlooked

The other reaction I wasn't expecting was the utter disdain my girls showed for Knox Overstreet, the sweet-but-over-eager character who fell for the football player's cheerleader girlfriend. His boundary-crossing attempts to woo her were always cringe, but for Gen X, cringe behavior in the name of love was generally either overlooked, tolerated, or sometimes even celebrated. (Standing on a girl's lawn in the middle of the night holding a full-volume stereo over your head was peak romance for Gen X, remember.) For Gen Z, the only thing worse than cringe is predatory behavior, which Knox's obsessiveness and pushiness could be seen as. My young Gen X lens saw him and said, "That's a bit much, dude. Take it down a notch or three." My Gen Z daughters' lens said, "That guy's a creepo. She needs to run far the other way."

On one hand, I was proud of them for recognizing red flag behaviors. On the other hand, I saw how little room there is for nuance in their perceptions, which was…interesting.

My Gen Z kids' reactions aren't wrong; they're just different than mine were at their age. We're usually on the same page, so seeing them have a drastically different reaction to something I loved at their age was really something. Now I'm wondering what other favorite movies from my youth I should show them to see if they view those differently as well—hopefully without them feeling traumatized by the experience.

This article originally appeared in January

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