Sound of tears and cheers

Director Anton Luitingh surveys dozens of hopeful child actors at the Grand Theatre at Marina Bay Sands.

"Discover a British accent. Get rid of any other accent you have," he says. "Why is this necessary? Because you want people to believe you're Austrian."

Welcome to the wacky world of auditions for The Sound Of Music, where cultural authenticity is less important than creating a musical reminiscent of the beloved 1965 movie starring Julie Andrews.

The Sound Of Music first opened on Broadway with an American cast in 1959, but generations of children and adults best remember the film version, with British actress Andrews and seven perky children singing Rodgers & Hammerstein songs such as Do-Re-Mi, My Favourite Things and So Long, Farewell.

This was the performance that made immortal the story of Maria, a singing governess who endears herself to seven children and marries their father, Captain von Trapp, as Nazis took over their native Austria.

The stage version of the musical plays in Singapore from July 11 to Aug 10 and is presented by Lunchbox Theatrical Productions and Base Entertainment. The musical is currently running in Johannesburg, in Luitingh's native South Africa, and will later travel to New Zealand.

In each city, the director seeks local actors to play the six younger von Trapps, aged four to 14 - no sweet young things of 16 going on 17 need apply. He needs children to play Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta and Gretl. In total, 18 children, three sets of six, are needed to ensure the month-long schedule of evening and matinee performances does not overtire any one young actor.

Luitingh, who held auditions here from last Friday to Sunday, says: "They've got to be able to sing, they've got to be able to dance and then throw in the fact that they have to be a certain height."

Height is important because of a memorable scene at the start where the children march into a room in order of height and introduce themselves to Maria. The tallest, a boy actor playing the second-oldest child Friedrich, cannot be more than 1.52m tall, while the shortest, a girl playing Gretl, the baby of the family, should be around 1.2m.

A tall order, perhaps, but as Maria sings in the musical, I Have Confidence. When inquiries went out earlier this month, about 150 were struck out from about 500 initial responders, either because the children were the wrong height or could not commit to four weeks of rehearsals from June 16.

That still left around 350 children on the first day of auditions, including Zoe Kofmehl, 10, who is supposed to move to Canada in June with her parents and two brothers. However, her mother, housewife Liz, 48, says: "If this happens and she gets in, we'll leave on Aug 11, after the show."

Children were told they did not need to prepare before the auditions, but like many who turned up, Zoe, who studies at the Swiss School, was brought up on The Sound Of Music film.

She says: "In my head, before I fell asleep, I was revising the songs because I knew them already."

After registration, they are given colour-coded tags based on the part they are auditioning for. Parents are asked to wait in the Sands Theatre as their children are taken into the adjoining Grand Theatre by staff from local arts school Centre Stage School of the Arts, which helped organise the auditions.

Parents are strictly forbidden from watching the auditions and, surprisingly, they comply, although this reporter was mistaken for an errant mum and nearly ejected until the public relations representative came to the rescue.

Luitingh begins with a pep talk: "If you don't make it through the first five minutes, it doesn't mean you're not brilliant or talented. It just means you're not what we're looking for in this production and we are looking for a lot of things, like how tall you are."

The children are taught two lines from the Judy Garland solo song Somewhere Over The Rainbow, rather than the harmonies required by their parts in The Sound Of Music. Then Luitingh and his crew listen to each child sing the lines individually, high-fiving each hopeful from the first to the 350th.

The children are remarkably quiet and patient, fascinated at first by what is happening on stage and later by the snack packets and iPads in their backpacks. Minders from Centre Stage move among them, organising bathroom breaks, keeping order and answering questions.

After three hours, some of the younger boys grow weepy and sullen, so Centre Stage co-founder Peter Hodgson, 48, engages them in conversation. "The girls go first today," he says.

Several children are eliminated after the vocal test. After a dance and choreography session, only 78 boys and girls are asked to return on day two. Luitingh lets Centre Stage staff deliver the bad news each time, keen to avoid parents who might have questions.

He says: "If there's something I can do to help your process, sure, if we're here for three weeks. But we're here for only three days."

As the bad news is delivered, there are a few sobs and runny noses, but on the whole, parents and children are remarkably restrained and accepting, compared to, say, teen K-pop star wannabes.

After all, many of these parents and children are used to the audition process, including Madam Irene Kang, 41, whose daughter Xaen Than, 11, does not make it through day one, but whose son Jeri, 14, is asked to return on day two.

Xaen and Jeri have been through local theatre group Wild Rice's First Stage programme for children and acted in last year's pantomime Jack & The Bean-Sprout!. On day two, mother and daughter wait in the Sands Theatre, hands clasped, as Jeri heads to the Grand Theatre.

He goes through a choreography session and is put into a height-ordered "family" of six children to enact the scene where Maria meets the von Trapp kids. The three- to five-minute-long scene requires each actor to introduce himself in character and repeat nowfamous dialogue.

Jeri flubs his lines three times, smiley face turning pale and drawn. Later, reunited with his mother and sister, he swallows a few times before speaking. "I practised a lot because my batch was last. It seemed to be easy to say it, but when I went on stage my mind was blank."

His mother puts a hand on his shoulder and says: "Never mind, move forward."

For those who make the cut, more dance practice and line recitals follow. At the end of day two, a final 36 children are told to return on day three - six vying for each part.

There are no eliminations on day three, all 36 are filmed singing, dancing and acting individually and in their "family" group. The films will be sent to the production team in Johannesburg and to the Rodgers & Hammerstein company in London, who will pick the final 18.

"I think the parents feel it more," says Australian music teacher Lu-min Chew, 43, who has been in Singapore for eight years and is waiting for her daughter Jaime, eight, a potential Gretl. "It's nerve-racking in there, when you can't see them, because your mind is racing."

Released for lunch, Jaime runs outside and crab-walks upside-down in sheer joy after three hours stuck in a seat waiting for her turn in the spotlight.

Not getting through auditions for the musical Annie last year did not upset her daughter much, says Madam Chew, but The Sound Of Music might be a different story. By the time Jaime was three, she had already memorised Gretl's lines.

By 4.30pm, the final films are taken. Luitingh addresses the children inside and Centre Stage staff talk to parents waiting outside, reminding both groups that it will be at least a week before news comes through and requests for information will not be entertained. For now, it is So Long, Farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye - and hands shoot up for final questions and pitches.

"I want to tell you that I'm halfAustrian," says one young girl. Next to her, Singaporean siblings Sabrina Lee, 11, and Samantha, nine, stare at each other in shock.

"I missed my friend's birthday party on Friday, I missed our dad's birthday yesterday, I'm missing netball today," Sabrina tells this reporter later. "Omigod, I need to get in."

Says Samantha: "I missed dad's birthday and netball too. I need to get in too."

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