TV & Film
Coming-of-age is a Vantage column where staffers share their opinions on a specific beat. From in-depth analyses of TV series to miscellaneous musings in music (and everything in between), this monthly column is an avenue to spread and inspire thought-provoking ideas.
In this column, Vantage Magazine staffer Lombos talks about how her favorite childhood film, The Sound of Music, has been her metaphorical security blanket throughout her college life.
I remember being three years old and wanting nothing more than to be a nun. I’d shamelessly walk around the house (sometimes even my grandma’s house) with a towel tied around my head in lieu of a habit. I was a tiny devout Catholic that sang excessively—all thanks to The Sound of Music (1965).
Although my convent daydreams are far behind me, The Sound of Music‘s impact on me is undeniable. Fraulein Maria’s journey of self-discovery is one I will always associate with my childhood. Its hilly, Austrian backdrop became synonymous to days I spent running around in my grandmother’s garden. I remember laying in between my parents every evening as we watched the aspiring nun become a governess to seven children, only to fall in love with their father, Captain von Trapp. I’d be asleep by the time the wedding bells stopped ringing, blissfully unaware of the Nazis coming after them.
As I got older, I traded my fake habit for a plaid skirt and did homework before bed instead of unwinding with a film. My academic anxieties became a part of me—my perfectionist streak and habit of procrastination led to all nighters. College introduced the added challenge of being a dormer. I missed the comfort of living at home, as I felt like I needed to be composed 24/7. Simple chores such as washing dishes would make me tear up, the toaster oven I snuck in was confiscated (which was to be expected) and I’d spend my nights staring at the ceiling.
I revamped my routine in an attempt to get it together. I made my bed a sacred study-free zone, took evening walks, and followed guided meditations. While I felt marginally better about myself, I still struggled to relax. I’d lay awake anticipating the worries of the following day.
One stressful school night, I rediscovered The Sound of Music’s sleep-inducing powers. I stumbled across the film’s “Sixteen Going On Seventeen‘” scene while on a YouTube binge. The nostalgia hit me—it was though I was transported back to my carefree days. I knew exactly what I was watching to fall asleep that evening. Fraulein Maria and the von Trapp children singing as if World War II wasn’t looming over them made me completely forget I was a college student constantly worrying about the future. I was brought back to my parents’ bedroom, laying in between them while wondering if they’d let me make clothes out of the curtains.
Now that I’ve experienced online classes for a whole academic year, not even my actual home can shield me from my school woes. On the days that I feel upset and my usual sitcom just doesn’t cut it, I prepare for bed a little earlier. I watch The Sound of Music, allow myself to wallow in self-pity, and I’m usually knocked out before Rolf betrays Liesl’s family.
At the end of the day, I know a movie can’t miraculously solve my problems. My childhood bedroom may no longer be an impenetrable safe haven but The Sound of Music (with its nearly three-hour run time) still manages to make me feel like everything will be okay.
