My daughter was hardly enthusiastic; not having seen the original film, she said, it wouldn't make any sense. However, filial duty and the promise of dinner afterwards in a smart bar persuaded her that Sing-a-long-a Sound of Music was hardly something I could go to on my own. How right she was.
Since it opened in August 1999, Sing-along-a Sound Of Music has become something of a phenomenon. Every Friday evening the throng waiting outside the Prince Charles Cinema is unlike anything else you are likely to see in London's West End: nuns - many suspiciously tall and five-o'clock-shadowed - adjust their wimples. Lederhosen (both leather and lycra varieties) and Tyrolean hats (complete with feathers and less orthodox decorations) abound while brown paper and string is fashioned into anything from Blue-Peter-style botch-up to Issey Miyake-pleats. And for those who approach this altar of camp unadorned, the merchandise stall in the basement does a brisk business in bin-liner chic, and the neighbouring bar serves beer in plastic cups that you can take in. The usual cinema commandment - abandon booze and tongue all ye who enter here - is turned on its head. Indeed singing along to the oh-so-familiar tunes is the least of the involvement: the liberated audience is encouraged to cheer, catcall and wisecrack throughout the screening - in short it's like a pantomime for grownups.
Guided by the MC the evening begins with an exploration of the goodie-bag that comes with the ticket, containing props to be brought into play at key moments in the film: among them a sprig of (fake) edelweiss, an invitation to the ball and a party popper to be let off when Von Trapp and Maria finally get it together.
In the past incumbents in the MC's role have included Graham Norton and Kit Hesketh Harvey, but the Bubble Theatre has recently decided that professional comedians are unnecessary. "In Singa-long-a Sound of Music the audience is the star," explains company spokesman Ben Friedman, "And if a star is doing it, it gets in the way." He says the MC should be thought of more as the best man at a wedding. The night we were there the festivities began with a competition for the best fancy dress, won - after suitably raucous shenigans - by "Katy from Mitcham," a bride on her hen night whose nun-outfit was far from the best - but hey, that's not what it's about guys. This show is about heart rather than head.
Then came the rules - how we should cheer Maria, boo the Nazis, hiss the Baroness and ooh-and-ah over the smallest lisping von Trapp - together with detailed instructions for using our props. In the audience there was an excited, anticipatory restlessness. Then as the music swelled and the camera swung around the mountains and lakes of the Salzkammerkut, finally zooming in on the diminutive figure of Julie Andrews singing her heart out - the audience burst into song. For The Hills are Alive, even daughter Geraldine needed no prompting although the lyrics at the bottom of the screen were essential for some of Rodgers and Hammerstein's rather more recherche numbers, such as How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria.
Wolf whistles, encouragements such as "You can do it, Julie", and "Push her in the lake" as the Baroness begins to make inroads on Van Trapp's affections - not to mention the ribald "No chance of a shag then," as Maria is banished from the dining room, had the audience laughing throughout even the gooiest schmaltz. Climb Every Mountain remained mercifully unsullied - everyone was too busy crying. Sing-along-a Sound of Music has a genesis as wacky as the show itself. When the inhabitants of an old people's home in Inverness were given song sheets to sing along to a screening of MGM's Seven Brides For Seven Brothers, someone involved in the Gay and Lesbian Film Festival (held at London's National Film Theatre) thought it would work for The Sound of Music. Enter the Bubble Theatre, an unusual set-up in that it is jointly owned by the staff who decided the idea had wider possibilities. They already ran successful speciality screenings: a join-in version of The Rocky Horror Show, a drag night Priscilla Queen of the Desert and 24-hour Twin Peaks. The success of the show is by no means limited to minority audiences.
Sing-along-a Sound Of Music now tours throughout the UK, with both one-offs and repeat performances throughout the summer in addition to the two shows in central London - Friday evening, and Sunday afternoon. In September it opens on Broadway - at the old Ziegfield Theatre - and the Gaiety in Dublin. I suspect the full carnival atmosphere may take a while to get going as the night we went those who sported the best costumes were people who had been before.
Although Neil McClennan, features editor of Elle magazine, doesn't go the whole hog, he admitted to buying a bag of costume accessories and donning a Maria-style cotton headscarf for a recent group outing of the editorial department. If they had been spotted, he says, they would have completely blown the magazine's cool. It's all very cheesy and embarrassing he confesses, but thinks that's all part of the show's appeal. "I think it taps into a collective memory of a certain generation. I grew up with The Sound of Music, not only the film, but small town am-dram productions. "We had the album at home and used to prance about and put little plays on. I suppose you could say that I've been a closet fan all these years. Then suddenly you discover that you're not alone and there are all these people who also know all the words as well."
As for Geraldine, she's already planning her next visit with a group of same-age friends. It's the perfect antidote to the stress of urban living, she says. "No matter how low you were feeling, you'd come out of this laughing. It's completely brilliant."
Sing-a-long-a Sound of Music is at the Gaiety, Dublin, from September 10th. It plays on Sunday nights at 7.30 p.m. and Thursday nights at 11 p.m. and nightly from December 4th