Mary Poppins 1964

It is ironic that whilst Walt Disney is probably best known for his animated features, if ever there was a film that best represents the qualities of a Disney film, it is this largely live-action film. Poppins has an episodic feel to it, but crucially these adventures are held together by a strong central plot and thematic core that elevate it to a higher level. It is the standard by which family films should be judged, providing a compelling yet slightly different experience for both adults and children. It would take an incredibly cynical adult not to be moved by Tomlinson's transformation and dawning realisation of what is important in life, and the moment when his son presses tuppence into his hand is a beautiful moment. This film is one of the best representations of what childhood should mean, exploring its imagination and wonder, yet reminding the audience of its fleeting nature and what is really important in life. With a score including songs this good and varied, ranging from catchy and fun to incredibly moving (just hearing the "Feed the Birds" theme is enough to bring a lump to one's throat) and nigh on perfect casting, regardless of Van Dyke's accent, there is a timeless quality to the film. Dated effects only serve to accentuate this. Despite the success of the film, that a sequel or remake has never been produced is probably a good thing - it is difficult to imagine how the film could be bettered and, for several generations since the film was made, Julie Andrews simply IS and always will be Mary Poppins.

[8.2/10] It’s a cliché to talk about Disney films in terms of magic, but it’s hard to explain Mary Poppins in any other terms. The movie barely has a plot. It’s padded to all hell. Its plot -- a bog standard “stuffy parents relearns the whimsy of youth through their children” story -- is well-worn. On paper, the movie should be a curio, a chipper but disposable bit of kid-friendly sucre that wouldn’t outlast a lollipop, let alone scads of other contemporary films, in the popular consciousness.

And yet, it can only be called an utter triumph. I dare you to walk away from this movie not humming “Chim Chim Cher-ee” or spitting out “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” or singing along to “Let’s Go Fly a Kite.” I challenge you not to be wowed by the blend of live action and animation that stands up today or the energetic dance numbers that fill the frame. I defy you not to be smitten with Mary, Bert, and even uptight Mr. Banks as each commands the screen. However much this movie seemingly shouldn’t work, it absolutely soars, like so many tuppence worth of paper and strings.

Much of its success owes to the strength of those personalities. Julie Andrews’s award-winning performance stands out today. In the title role, she finds the upright genteelity of the magical nanny, mixed with a puckish coyness and wondrous presence that makes Mary Poppins one of Disney’s most iconic characters, no small feat.

But she’s flanked by a bevy of superb supporting turns. Dick van Dyke’s British accent is legendarily bad, but despite that, he is still supremely charming with his frantic leg-lifting dances, his over-the-top mugging, and his toothy grin. David Towlison holds his own with those more affectionate characters as the stuffy, regimented patriarch of the Banks household. He sells the comic sense of flusteredness at Mary’s antics perfectly, and makes his presto-chango change of heart feel believable and affecting despite its rushed nature. Everyone else, from the nominally deferential suffragette Mrs. Banks, to a guffawing Ed Wynn, to the feisty cook and housekeeper, joins in the chorus with aplomb.

What a chorus! The Sherman Brothers, who composed the film’s score, do career-best work. They give Mr. Banks a march-like refrain on the benefits of order and propriety. They give Bert the chimney-sweep the chance to overemote and unveil his comic and vocal exuberance. And they lean on Julie Andrews to make their silly songs more rousing, their sentimental songs more sweet, and their more chipper songs that much cheerier with her golden voice.

So what holds Mary Poppins back from being, well, practically perfect in every way? For one thing it’s long. Two hours and twenty minutes is a haul of a children’s film. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but director Robert Stevenson packs those minutes with lots of fluff. Rest assured, despite its bouncy tone, this is not a movie that hastens on to the next thing. Instead, every song has a few extra verses and a couple of reprises. Every dance sequence and big set piece goes on five-to-ten minutes longer than its natural end point. And there’s numerous sequences of mundane goings on that don’t move the story or even really count as texture.

Still, one of the movie’s best qualities is that it lets scenes and moments breathe. For as much amusing if insubstantial padding could be trimmed here, it’s remarkable to watch something like the “Step in Time” sequence and notice how long cinematographer Edward Colman’s camera holds the shot. In contrast to modern movies which cut ten times in five seconds, that steadiness makes the energetic sequence all the more impressive for being able to visually connect one movement with the next.

At the same time, he’s not afraid to linger on the actors’ faces. The writing talent here lies in the dialogue, with amusing banter between characters or all stripes, not in the storytelling. That means the actors have to carry a great deal of the emotional weight. Mr. Banks’ transformation from stuffed shirt to free spirit washes over his mustached visage when Bert reminds him of the ticking clock on his son and daughter’s childhood. Mary looks wistfully at the Banks family as her work is done and propriety dictates she pretend not to have been emotionally invested. The long looks at these characters’ faces conveys the sentiment beneath them in a way that’s, at times, lacking in the script.

Regardless, whatever the film lacks in its screenplay, it makes up for on the screen itself. The broad strokes of the overly formal papa and the kids who just want his attention plays on elemental themes that do a lot of the work there. Mary’s ability to play verbal rope-a-dope with Mr. Banks is a treat every time. In the same vein, the movie soars in its imaginative flights of fancy that take up the middle portion of the films.

Mary Poppins is, in many ways, a special effects movie. It’s astounding how many times Stevenson and company use suspension and rigs to have their characters float through the air like magic. The integration of live action and animated material here is legendary, and all but seamless as a means of communicating the wondrous air that Mary carries with her. Feats of dance and movement keep the spirit up in moments big and small. There’s even less flashy but no less gorgeous compositions when Mr. Banks walks through the foggy English streets or faces his professional doom in a sea of black and red. For however overlong the movie runs in places, it is rarely, if ever, boring given that visual panache.

It’s the strange alchemy of all these elements that elevates a fairly straightforward if whimsical nanny story into something so memorable and engrossing. There’s a subtle power in the venerable story of children better understanding their parents and parents understanding the preciousness of their children. There is sweetness in the modest and proper household sitter betraying that her temporary posting has secretly become a matter of the heart. And there is magic in the chalk-drawing field trips, laugh-induced floating sessions, and swell of sight and sound and song that makes Mary Poppins a true classic, on paper, on the screen, and in the hearts and minds of the young and young at heart alike.