The Revenge of the von Trapp Family

When I think about revenge, I think about The Sound of Music. After everything the Nazis put that plucky von Trapp family through, they all end up on the top of that mountain, singing, with Julie Andrews spinning around them like a deranged wind-up toy. They seem utterly at peace. What a perfect final image, as they climb up from the valley of their former lives, perching for a moment on the high border between the past and future before they descend into their new home.

WARNING: I haven't actually seen The Sound of Music in years, and I hardly paid attention to it anyway because I thought it was a girls' movie and I was mad because we had to watch it instead of the show about hyenas.

But think about how bitter the von Trapps must have felt about leaving their home behind, in the hands of the Nazis, even if it was to go to a new, safer place. Their relief at being liberated from their oppressors probably kept them from thinking too much about revenge for at least a few months. Eventually, their human desire for Justice must have reared its head. Captain von Trapp would heave the ax fiercely into the firewood and asked himself how anyone could get away with all that Evil, and why God was showing no sign striking back and reasserting the superior power of Good.

Sure, the Nuremberg trials provided the von Trapps and the rest of us w ith the sense that there was at least a measure of Justice in the world. But as they grew numb and familiar to their new homes, the von Trapps lay in their beds and considered that the overwhelming majority of shitty human behavior goes completely unpunished. Everybody noticed that Julie Andrews didn't lead the family in musical rounds the way she used to. Her and the Captain began to feel secretly, shamefully repulsed by each other, and tried frantically to hide their flagging desires. And that little kid stopped doing that really cute thing he kept doing in the movie. That thing about milking cows or buffing his lederhosen or something.

The valley where they now lived, that had seemed so fresh and alive with promise when they saw it from the mountaintop, was growing cramped, as if squeezing and contracting to expel them. Or possibly, their need for revenge was growing so large that nothing could contain it. That girl who was in love with the Nazi boy began a series of sexual relationships with obnoxious, grabby boys who could never help her reconstruct her shattered belief in the existence of love. When at last she befriended a young man who treated her with respect, Julie Andrews finally broke her heart by seducing him on the family's clavichord. Discovering Julie Andrews helping the gawky, virginal boy to undo her underthings, the Captain flew into a rage and fetched the ax. Everyone in the von Trapp's adopted town was treated to the shameful sight of the tearful and naked young man, running from the enraged Captain, with his still-erect penis bobbing frantically before him.

Another member of the traumatized von Trapp clan took out his pent-up anger by laying out poison for small farm animals. The Captain caught him hiding in the bushes beside a neighbor's field, watching the baby goats go wobbly-legged and collapse into tiny heaving mounds moments after eating the snacks he had left for them. The Captain beat him soundly, venting his helpless fury at the dawning realization that his family was disintegrating around him and he could do nothing to save them. He had led them here to safety, and yet they were each somehow still trapped in the merciless grip of a brutal regime.

WARNING: In the interests of avoiding legal action, this would be an appropriate time to point out that as plausible as this scenario may sound, I made it up.

Every day, millions of men, women, and children beg their gods for Justice, for some small redress of their grievances, and get the cold shoulder in return. To them, the line between Justice and revenge becomes as insignificant as the lines on a sidewalk. When you were a kid, you taunted yourself with the idea that stepping on that line would break your mother's back. You still half-believed in the cosmic consequences of even the most insignificant act. Now that you're older and acquainted with injustice, you walk unafraid over the lines and toward wherever you're headed.