Plummer Admits Why He Couldn’t Stand Julie Andrews | HO!!!!

The Sound of Music's 50th Anniversary | Vanity Fair

When “The Sound of Music” premiered on March 2, 1965, the world was swept up in a tidal wave of melody, optimism, and cinematic magic. Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer became household names, immortalized as Maria and Captain Georg von Trapp in one of the most beloved films of all time.

Yet, behind the scenes of this seemingly perfect musical, a hidden discord simmered—one that would only come to light decades later when Plummer himself confessed the truth: working alongside Julie Andrews was far from easy, and the tension between them shaped both their performances and their memories of the film.

An Instant Classic Conceals Its Cracks

Directed by Robert Wise and adapted from Maria von Trapp’s 1949 memoir, “The Sound of Music” was a dazzling blend of sweeping music, family drama, and historical backdrop. Critics were divided at first, some dismissing it as overly sentimental, others doubting its staying power. But audiences disagreed—within four weeks, the film shot to the top of the U.S. box office, eventually surpassing “Gone with the Wind” as the highest-grossing film in history, a record it held for five years.

The numbers were staggering: over 283 million tickets sold worldwide, four years in continuous theatrical release, and box office records broken in 29 countries. The Academy honored the film with five Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Director, while Julie Andrews received a Golden Globe for her luminous performance as Maria. For millions, the story of the governess who brought music and love to the von Trapp household felt like a fairy tale come true.

But the reality behind the camera was far less harmonious.

Plummer’s Private Struggle

Christopher Plummer, cast as the stern Captain von Trapp, later revealed that while the world embraced the film’s optimism, he himself was restless and frustrated during the shoot. Among his biggest challenges was his dynamic with Julie Andrews, whose constant warmth and discipline—adored by everyone else on set—he found grating.

Plummer admitted that Andrews’s relentless positivity made him feel “as though he were being hit over the head with a Valentine’s Day card every day.” Her angelic nature, he said, felt suffocating rather than inspiring. With his trademark dry humor, he nicknamed her “Miss Disney,” a nod to the squeaky-clean image she brought from “Mary Poppins.”

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This tension lingered long after filming ended, shaping how Plummer looked back on the role that made him a household name.

Fact vs. Fiction: The Real Von Trapps

For many fans, “The Sound of Music” was more than a film—it was a dream woven into melody. Yet the story told on screen was only loosely tied to the real history of the von Trapp family. Maria von Trapp herself later admitted she hadn’t been madly in love with Georg when she agreed to marry him; her overwhelming certainty was a deep love for the children. “She married the children first,” Maria wrote, “and only over time did she grow to love their father.”

Even the children themselves were reshaped for Hollywood. The film created Liesl, the eldest daughter who falls for a young Nazi soldier. In truth, the oldest child was Rupert, a son who became a physician in Vermont. At the time of the movie’s release, he was already 54, far from the wide-eyed teenager depicted on screen.

The iconic escape scene—where the family treks across the Alps into Switzerland—was also fiction. In reality, the von Trapps boarded a train to Italy, aided by Georg’s Italian citizenship. Their departure was less dramatic than Hollywood suggested, but the stakes were still very real: refusing the Nazi regime’s pressure to cooperate meant risking everything.

These differences between film and life mattered to Plummer. He often struggled with the idea that his character had been flattened into a caricature of coldness and strictness. The real Georg von Trapp was remembered as gentle, kind, and deeply devoted to his family. For Plummer, already disenchanted with the film’s sentimental tone, this disconnect only deepened his frustration with the project—and with the image the world would forever associate with him.

Behind the Scenes: Discord and Dependence

While audiences fell in love with the harmony of “The Sound of Music,” the atmosphere on set was more complicated. Julie Andrews, fresh from her triumph in “Mary Poppins,” was adored by cast and crew alike. She carried herself with kindness, discipline, and a voice that lifted even the dullest day of filming. But for Plummer, that very quality became a source of irritation.

Rumors swirled around Plummer’s offscreen life. His scenes with Charmian Carr, who played Liesl, drew whispers of a possible romance. Carr later admitted she had a crush on Plummer, describing him as “perfect” with his sharp wit and refined accent, but denied any affair. What she did confirm was that Plummer introduced her to drinking, often taking her to Austrian bars after shooting.

Plummer himself admitted that much of his time on set was clouded by alcohol. He recalled being intoxicated during the grand Salzburg festival scene, an irony not lost on him as he portrayed a man of authority and discipline. His drinking led to weight fluctuations, forcing costume adjustments behind the scenes. To the outside world, he appeared every inch the handsome, brooding Captain von Trapp; behind the camera, he was quietly unraveling.

Even as he delivered a performance that earned worldwide admiration, Plummer felt trapped by the role. He considered the script sentimental to the point of absurdity and referred to the film with bitter sarcasm as “The Sound of Mucus.” His disdain was not only for the story, but for what it represented: a part that lacked depth, tethering him to an image he never wanted. Standing beside Julie Andrews, who embodied everything the film celebrated, only sharpened his resentment.

Casting What-Ifs and Production Woes

The final version of “The Sound of Music” feels so natural today that it’s hard to imagine anyone else as Maria or Captain von Trapp. Yet in the early 1960s, Hollywood nearly gave the world a very different film. Doris Day, Audrey Hepburn, Shirley Jones, Leslie Caron, and Anne Bancroft were all considered for Maria. Sean Connery and Yul Brynner were discussed for the role of Captain von Trapp. In the end, director Robert Wise and writer Ernest Lehman chose Andrews and a relatively unknown Canadian stage actor, Christopher Plummer.

Filming in Salzburg began in March 1964, with scenes shot in the Alps and historic abbeys. The landscape was breathtaking, but the weather often worked against them. Charmian Carr nearly broke her ankle during the “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” number, and Plummer’s heavy drinking created complications. He later admitted to being drunk during the music festival scene, one of the film’s most dramatic moments.

Costumes grew tight as his drinking led to weight gain, frustrating the wardrobe department. And then came the deeper problem: his disdain for the script itself. Plummer found it unbearably sentimental and complained that Georg von Trapp had been flattened into a stern caricature far removed from the gentle, loving man Maria von Trapp had described. What the world saw as magic, Plummer saw as artistic compromise.

Legacy and Reconciliation

Despite his bitterness, the cruel irony remained: this was the role that would define him forever. No matter how many Shakespearean performances he gave or acclaimed films he appeared in, audiences always returned to the image of Captain von Trapp standing beside Julie Andrews. For Plummer, the role that made him famous also became a prison, locking him into an image he had tried so hard to resist.

After “The Sound of Music,” Plummer threw himself into new projects to redefine his career, including “The Fall of the Roman Empire” (1964), “Waterloo” (1970), “The Man Who Would Be King” (1975), “The Insider” (1999), and “A Beautiful Mind” (2001). In 2011, he finally won an Academy Award for “Beginners,” becoming the oldest actor at the time to win an Oscar. He also earned multiple Tonys and Emmys, achieving the triple crown of acting. Yet, no matter how many honors he received, journalists always brought the conversation back to “The Sound of Music.”

His relationship with Julie Andrews followed a similar arc. At first, he couldn’t stand her—her discipline, positivity, and constant kindness made him feel smothered. But time revealed the truth. What he once mocked, he later came to admire. Andrews never spoke poorly of him; she often defended him in interviews, calling him “brilliant, complex, and deeply professional.” As the years passed, their bond deepened into friendship. Plummer’s criticisms softened, and he admitted that while the role had been unfulfilling, the movie’s impact could not be denied.

When Christopher Plummer passed away on February 5, 2021, at the age of 91, Julie Andrews released a statement that captured the tenderness of their later years: “The world has lost a consummate actor today and I have lost a cherished friend. I treasure the memories of our work together and all the humor and fun we shared through the years.”

The Real Story Behind the Harmony

Plummer’s confession about not being able to stand Julie Andrews tells a story larger than simple dislike. It speaks of an artist wrestling with a role he never wanted, fighting against being typecast, and navigating a career that spanned triumphs and struggles. It shows how time, honesty, and forgiveness can turn irritation into lifelong friendship.

The sadness lies in knowing that the tension between them could have broken something fragile, but instead it matured into one of Hollywood’s most enduring bonds. What began as irritation slowly turned into mutual respect and, in the end, a cherished friendship that lasted until Plummer’s final days.

His words remind us that even the brightest films carry shadows behind the scenes, and even the sweetest bonds can begin in conflict. The story of Christopher Plummer and Julie Andrews is proof that the real drama often happens when the cameras stop rolling—and that reconciliation is sometimes the greatest performance of all.