☆☆☆☆
As Mary herself might say, there's no point sugar-coating it: Mary Poppins Returns is far from practically perfect. It's eminently enjoyable, and there are times when it's positively poignant, but perfection? That belongs solely to the 1964 original.
It's one of the primary flaws of Mary Poppins Returns, along with extreme over-length, unmemorable songs, and throwback production values that have resulted in a roadshow film in a multiplex era. Those are its drawbacks, and they aren't quibbles.
Let's get this out of the way, too: Emily Blunt isn't Julie Andrews, and to compare her is completely unfair and entirely inevitable. Is it wrong to note that Blunt has a perfectly lovely singing voice that would never, not in a million years (no matter who she was) be capable of matching Andrews' preternatural range. Unfair, I know, I know, I know, but if you're going to make a sequel to Mary Poppins, that is what's going to happen, and it only matters because when Blunt sings she is fun and bouncy but anyone who's grown up with the original knows what's missing.
I feel I must again excuse this kind of criticism, but Mary herself might tell me to quit talking now and just get on with it.
Still, a few more faults linger: Lin-Manuel Miranda lacks almost any screen presence, which is odd considering how electrifying he proved to be on stage. He's just ... nice. He's fine. Then there's the biggest problem of all: Mary Poppins Returns dares so little from a story standpoint; it is, beat for beat, basically a remake of the original, following the basic outlines so closely that there's a loopy relative who sings on the ceiling (played by no less than Meryl Streep); not one but two musical numbers that blend live action and animation; and an elaborate, wildly overlong dance scene with Mary and a bunch of working-class Londoners (lamplighters instead of chimney sweeps, but they've still got smudged faces and big smiles).
It all feels entirely familiar ... and the crazy and almost unbelievable thing is that, by and large, it works. It shouldn't, God knows. But there's Mary Poppins, all snippy, irritable, sharp-edged and lovely just as she's always been, and she's ready to rescue a family in trouble.
Even the family is the same as before: Jane and Michael Banks, who are now grown and living in a rather surprisingly integrated London of the 1930s, in what Britain called the Great Slump and Americans called the Great Depression. They're still in the big townhome at No. 17 Cherry Tree Lane, next door to Admiral Boom. Ellen is still their maid and Miss Lark still likes to walk in the park with ... well, poor Andrew didn't last through the last 20 years, I guess.
Michael (Ben Whishaw) is the father now, a widower since his wife died a year earlier, leaving him with not two but three children this time around, Anabel (Pixie Davies), John (Nathanael Saleh) and Georgie (Joel Dawson). Jane (Emily Mortimer) spends a lot of time helping out Michael, and he needs it: His grief has become a distraction, he's forgotten to pay the mortgage and they Bankses are going to lose the house soon, to the hands of the greedy banker Mr. Wilkins (Colin Firth).
Who can help? Why, Mary Poppins, of course, summoned by the seemingly magical kite that the Michael, Jane and their parents flew in the climax of the original. She's back to teach gentle lessons about imagination and acceptance and all of the kinds of things that Mary Poppins does best, and she does it with the knowing winks of the original.
As the movie bounces along from lackluster song to lackluster song (they're all by Marc Shaiman, with Richard M. Sherman listed as "musical consultant," perhaps because the movie soars to life most vividly when it recalls the indelible music of he and his brother, Robert), there's every reason to dislike it, but Mary Poppins Returns does something quite astonishing: It refuses our disapproval. Like Mary herself, it simply ignores the criticisms and insists on being, well, Mary Poppins.
Yes, the original is superior in every way, but Mary Poppins Returns is so superior in craft and performance to most other movies around that it floats above even while we note every single objection we could possibly have to it. Yes, the songs are dull, but they are jaunty enough to keep us occupied, and every performer (even Miranda, who is so weirdly unmemorable) sings, dances, smiles and cries with absolute conviction.
Perhaps the most welcome relief is that, just like the original, Mary Poppins Returns finds its true soul in the story of a man overwhelmed by a life he can't control. Just as Mary Poppins belonged as much to Andrews as to the under-appreciated talents of David Tomlinson as the beleaguered, disappointed Mr. Banks, the sequel belongs to Blunt as much as to Whishaw, who is a different kind of adult. If his father was overly confident and rather too proud, Michael is scared, overwhelmed, and saddened that the life he has is so far from the life he imagined.
Michael feels at once appropriate for the Depression-era setting of the film and perfectly in synch with a modern father, shocked that his life has left him with so much less than his own parents. Jane, presented here as an activist just as her mother once was, takes a much-reduced role here; call it a patriarchal flaw in the film or just a result of telling a story from a different era, but Mary Poppins Returns is once again about a father learning some basic life skills. Whishaw can be a little whiny and cowardly, but mostly he strikes all the right notes that balance the bluntness (no pun intended) of Mary herself. A scene in which she listens while he collapses, and allows him to express his pain, is exquisite for the way Blunt, in particular, plays her own hurt. The ageless Mary knows how easy her life is compared with those she helps.
There's a lot going here, probably too much in most every way. A little less of Mary Poppins would have been more successful for her return. She didn't need to come back. But maybe, despite all of our resistance and every objection to her acidic sweetness and old-fashioned emotional common sense, we actually needed her.
By the time the Bankses go back to the park to celebrate as a family, by the time Mary Poppins once again realizes the family no longer needs her (after just a week this time!), by the time the music swells and Mary flies off, I found myself overcoming my initial eye rolling to discover a tear or two rolling down my cheek. Maybe I'm just an old softie.
Yeah, I'm as surprised as anyone by that. Leave it to Mary Poppins to tear down those walls of resistance and force her way, once again, into our hearts. Turns out, there's still space for her in there.
Viewed December 28, 2018 -- ArcLight Sherman Oaks
1355
It's one of the primary flaws of Mary Poppins Returns, along with extreme over-length, unmemorable songs, and throwback production values that have resulted in a roadshow film in a multiplex era. Those are its drawbacks, and they aren't quibbles.
Let's get this out of the way, too: Emily Blunt isn't Julie Andrews, and to compare her is completely unfair and entirely inevitable. Is it wrong to note that Blunt has a perfectly lovely singing voice that would never, not in a million years (no matter who she was) be capable of matching Andrews' preternatural range. Unfair, I know, I know, I know, but if you're going to make a sequel to Mary Poppins, that is what's going to happen, and it only matters because when Blunt sings she is fun and bouncy but anyone who's grown up with the original knows what's missing.
I feel I must again excuse this kind of criticism, but Mary herself might tell me to quit talking now and just get on with it.
Still, a few more faults linger: Lin-Manuel Miranda lacks almost any screen presence, which is odd considering how electrifying he proved to be on stage. He's just ... nice. He's fine. Then there's the biggest problem of all: Mary Poppins Returns dares so little from a story standpoint; it is, beat for beat, basically a remake of the original, following the basic outlines so closely that there's a loopy relative who sings on the ceiling (played by no less than Meryl Streep); not one but two musical numbers that blend live action and animation; and an elaborate, wildly overlong dance scene with Mary and a bunch of working-class Londoners (lamplighters instead of chimney sweeps, but they've still got smudged faces and big smiles).
It all feels entirely familiar ... and the crazy and almost unbelievable thing is that, by and large, it works. It shouldn't, God knows. But there's Mary Poppins, all snippy, irritable, sharp-edged and lovely just as she's always been, and she's ready to rescue a family in trouble.
Even the family is the same as before: Jane and Michael Banks, who are now grown and living in a rather surprisingly integrated London of the 1930s, in what Britain called the Great Slump and Americans called the Great Depression. They're still in the big townhome at No. 17 Cherry Tree Lane, next door to Admiral Boom. Ellen is still their maid and Miss Lark still likes to walk in the park with ... well, poor Andrew didn't last through the last 20 years, I guess.
Michael (Ben Whishaw) is the father now, a widower since his wife died a year earlier, leaving him with not two but three children this time around, Anabel (Pixie Davies), John (Nathanael Saleh) and Georgie (Joel Dawson). Jane (Emily Mortimer) spends a lot of time helping out Michael, and he needs it: His grief has become a distraction, he's forgotten to pay the mortgage and they Bankses are going to lose the house soon, to the hands of the greedy banker Mr. Wilkins (Colin Firth).
Who can help? Why, Mary Poppins, of course, summoned by the seemingly magical kite that the Michael, Jane and their parents flew in the climax of the original. She's back to teach gentle lessons about imagination and acceptance and all of the kinds of things that Mary Poppins does best, and she does it with the knowing winks of the original.
As the movie bounces along from lackluster song to lackluster song (they're all by Marc Shaiman, with Richard M. Sherman listed as "musical consultant," perhaps because the movie soars to life most vividly when it recalls the indelible music of he and his brother, Robert), there's every reason to dislike it, but Mary Poppins Returns does something quite astonishing: It refuses our disapproval. Like Mary herself, it simply ignores the criticisms and insists on being, well, Mary Poppins.
Yes, the original is superior in every way, but Mary Poppins Returns is so superior in craft and performance to most other movies around that it floats above even while we note every single objection we could possibly have to it. Yes, the songs are dull, but they are jaunty enough to keep us occupied, and every performer (even Miranda, who is so weirdly unmemorable) sings, dances, smiles and cries with absolute conviction.
Perhaps the most welcome relief is that, just like the original, Mary Poppins Returns finds its true soul in the story of a man overwhelmed by a life he can't control. Just as Mary Poppins belonged as much to Andrews as to the under-appreciated talents of David Tomlinson as the beleaguered, disappointed Mr. Banks, the sequel belongs to Blunt as much as to Whishaw, who is a different kind of adult. If his father was overly confident and rather too proud, Michael is scared, overwhelmed, and saddened that the life he has is so far from the life he imagined.
Michael feels at once appropriate for the Depression-era setting of the film and perfectly in synch with a modern father, shocked that his life has left him with so much less than his own parents. Jane, presented here as an activist just as her mother once was, takes a much-reduced role here; call it a patriarchal flaw in the film or just a result of telling a story from a different era, but Mary Poppins Returns is once again about a father learning some basic life skills. Whishaw can be a little whiny and cowardly, but mostly he strikes all the right notes that balance the bluntness (no pun intended) of Mary herself. A scene in which she listens while he collapses, and allows him to express his pain, is exquisite for the way Blunt, in particular, plays her own hurt. The ageless Mary knows how easy her life is compared with those she helps.
There's a lot going here, probably too much in most every way. A little less of Mary Poppins would have been more successful for her return. She didn't need to come back. But maybe, despite all of our resistance and every objection to her acidic sweetness and old-fashioned emotional common sense, we actually needed her.
By the time the Bankses go back to the park to celebrate as a family, by the time Mary Poppins once again realizes the family no longer needs her (after just a week this time!), by the time the music swells and Mary flies off, I found myself overcoming my initial eye rolling to discover a tear or two rolling down my cheek. Maybe I'm just an old softie.
Yeah, I'm as surprised as anyone by that. Leave it to Mary Poppins to tear down those walls of resistance and force her way, once again, into our hearts. Turns out, there's still space for her in there.
Viewed December 28, 2018 -- ArcLight Sherman Oaks
1355
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