Mary Poppins Returns

I’m not sure which I would have dreaded more, the idea of Disney making a proper sequel to Mary Poppins, or simply cranking this venerated landmark feature through its CGI reboot machine the way the studio has done with practically every thing else in its classic catalogue. After seeing Mary Poppins Returns, I’m glad they opted for a sequel, albeit one that has no reason for existence other than to cash in on a beloved property. After all, the original 1964 film is still revered by audiences of all ages, and (though a follow-up has been in the works since the year after Mary Poppins’ release) it would be impossible to come even close to the groundbreaking cinematic and musical achievement of that picture.  It’s equally difficult to imagine anyone taking the place of Julie Andrews in the titular role that won her an Academy Award and introduced movie audiences to the beautiful English stage actress and singer with the four-octave range. If any contemporary young actress were to take over for the still very-much-alive Andrews, Emily Blunt seems the logical choice. In just seventeen years, Blunt has proven adept at playing all kinds of roles in a wide range of diverse genres.  She’s practically perfect (if we forget The Girl on the Train) in every way.

Mary Poppins Returns gets a lot of things right.  Screenwriter David Magee (Finding Neverland, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, Life of Pi) draws inspiration from author P.L. Travers books Mary Poppins Comes Back (1935) and Mary Poppins Opens the Door (1943). Set in London twenty-five years after the events of the first film, this new story centers on the two Banks children (memorably played by Karen Dotrice and Matthew Garber in the original) now grown-up and in need of help.  The widowed Michael Banks lives with his three kids and housekeeper in the same grand home on Cherry Tree Lane that he grew up in, while his sister Jane lives in a flat not too far away. After the death of Michael’s wife, and some malfeasance on the part of the new president of Fidelity Fiduciary Bank, where Jane and Michael’s father was formerly a partner, the Banks children are in danger of loosing their home, and perhaps the optimistic wonder and love of life instilled in them during the first film. So the magical nanny returns to help put everything right again. 

The first several minutes of this sequel is almost enough to make even the most cynical reboot-haters believe in miracles. The Depression era update to the original studio-created fantasy rendering of Edwardian London looks just right. Playwright, composer, lyricist, singer, actor and now in-house Disney tunesmith Lin-Manuel Miranda (Hamilton) plays a quasi-cockney named Jack who introduces us to the setting. Miranda’s cheery lamplighter seems a worthy successor to Dick Van Dyke’s jack-of-all-tradesman Bert, and the casting of the characters we remember from the original picture is even more spot on. David Warner (Tom Jones, Time After Time, Time Bandits) takes over for Reginald Owen as Admiral Boom, the eccentric retired naval officer who lives next door to the Banks house and fires a cannon every hour on the hour. Julie Walters (Educating Rita, Calendar Girls, Brooklyn) so perfectly embodies the Banks’ long-time housekeeper, Ellen, you’d think character actress Hermione Baddeley had been resurrected. 

As the now-grown Banks children, Ben Whishaw (I'm Not There, The Lobster, the current Q in the James Bond series) and Emily Mortimer (Lovely & Amazing, Match Point, Hugo) are ideally suited in both physicality and temperament to convincingly be the offspring of fussbudget David Tomlinson and loopy Glynis Johns from the original film. As the new generation of Banks children, Annabel (Pixie Davies), Georgie (Joel Dawson), and John (Nathanael Saleh) are spunky and possess the requisite adorable British accents. The narrative set-up feels solid, if predictable, and the first couple of songs are promising. All seems on-track right up to the point when the new Mary Poppins descends from the sky, clinging to the same kite the Banks family flew together at the end of the old Mary Poppins. But once she hits the ground, the spell is broken.

Not that Blunt’s Poppins is terrible, but she opts to eschew any significant attempt to emulate Andrews, and plays the stern but loving nanny more in the way Travers originally envisioned her (at least in terms of temperament if not appearance). That choice might make sense in a remake or reimagining of the source material, but in a direct sequel like this, it’s basically admitting defeat before even getting started. The stiff, oddly drab incarnation of the character acts like an anchor on the proceedings rather than the helium balloon required to effortlessly lift a project like this out of the quagmire of expectations and preconceptions any viewer over age twelve will bring to it.

Blunt’s performance epitomizes what’s wrong with the picture in that it takes no risks. Every choice is so safe that the results are lifeless, joyless, and free of surprise, delight or wonder.  Theater director and choreographer turned filmmaker Rob Marshall, who helmed the technically proficient but artless musical adaptations of Chicago, Nine, and Into the Woods, brings his trademark bland competence to a project that requires an actual cinematic magician. In terms of individual songs and set pieces, Marshall and his collaborators make all the “correct” decisions, such as the exquisite use of traditional hand-drawn 2D animation in a ten-minute sequence where Mary Poppins, Jack, and the children jump into an animated world—the best of the many attempts to recall iconic elements of the original film. But the progression of events in the movie lacks any organic flow. Transitions from moment to moment feel like a novice storyteller clumsily laying narrative blocks together without any connective tissue. The awkward structure makes the picture too tedious to sustain extended production numbers like the one featuring Meryl Streep in a labored cameo. 

The original film—also constructed around songs and set pieces—is quite long and episodic itself. But in the 1960s, Disney was still inventing cinematic techniques that dazzled audiences (and that cinematic magic has diminished remarkably little as the film has aged). The songs in Mary Poppins, by the prolific team of Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman (The Jungle Book, Bedknobs and Broomsticks, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh) are arguably the greatest collection of instantly catchy tunes in the entire Disney cannon. Those turn-of-the-century British music hall inspired tracks possess an unparalleled ability to charm and move audiences of many ages and backgrounds. And that style of music was as perfectly suited to Andrews, who grew up singing in music halls, as was the character of a prim, proper, and pragmatic disciplinarian whose no-nonsense persona opened the door to imagination, love, and understanding.

The songs of Mary Poppins are so iconic and beloved that any attempt to achieve the same impact would be futile. For the sequel, venerable Broadway and movie composer Marc Shaiman and co-lyricist Scott Wittman never try to out-do the Sherman Brothers. Instead, they adhere closely to their spirit and deliver numbers that feel like decent but forgettable B-sides. The songs all blend together in a monotonous concoction that, like much of the movie, feels like a major effort that results in a minor effect.

The film’s best song arrives at the end, when it’s most desperately needed. Marry Poppins Returns builds to a weak climax, in which the straw-man villain (Colin Firth) is easily vanquished, followed by an enchanting conclusion. I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that Dick Van Dyke puts in a late appearance that provides a little of the magic missing from the movie’s first two hours. Seeing the spry 92 year-old playing the elderly son of one of his characters from the original film, and even dancing a bit, is worth the price of admission alone (although most of it is in the trailer). Disney veteran Angela Lansbury (also 92) turns up as well during the closing number in a cameo clearly meant for Andrews. It was probably a wise choice for the original Mary Poppins to decline making an appearance in this sequel — her shadow already looms far too large over the picture. But since Mary Poppins Returns doesn’t succeed much beyond avoiding potential disaster and generating a modicum of nostalgia, a glimpse of Andrews might have been more appropriate and satisfying. Like the ten-minute animation sequence, watching Andrews look up and sing as the other characters float off into the sky would have served as a reminder that, once upon a time in the not too long ago, uniquely gifted individuals could magically transform factory-produced entertainment into timeless works of art.

Twitter Capsule:
After a promising start, Rob Marshall's labored sequel transforms into tedium. Casts all the right people and makes all the safe choices, so it won't put any one off, but leaves little room for inspiration or magic.