A Dazzling Disney Masterpiece That Remains Timeless

For anyone who grew up watching the film version of Mary Poppins – which is to say, on its 60th anniversary, several generations of once-children – it’s almost unimaginable that it was ever new. Mary Poppins has felt like a cornerstone of culture for longer than it’s even been technically “classic”: during the VHS era of the 80s and 90s, it was a frequent go-to for classrooms, babysitters, and festive TV schedules. In South Africa, it often alternated with The Sound of Music for the prime Christmas Day afternoon spot, making Julie Andrews almost as much a seasonal icon as Santa Claus.

The film’s songs, images, and catchphrases are firmly ingrained in popular culture, and its fantastical portrayal of a London adorned with pink cherry blossom and black umbrellas remains a tourist ideal. Small children, upon learning the word, often challenge themselves to spell “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” At 41, I still mimic Andrews’ brisk, clipped delivery of “spit spot” when trying to hurry things along. Mary Poppins isn’t always at the forefront of my mind when I do so; like many fragments from the film, the phrase has just blended into the fabric of daily life. Could it really have not always been there?

And yet, a mere six decades ago, Disney’s Mary Poppins – a brighter, more buoyant adaptation of PL Travers’ books – was not only new but groundbreaking: a state-of-the-art technical marvel, a glitzy launchpad for a first-time movie star, and a rare children’s entertainment that crossed over into widely appealing event film status, largely due to its full-scale Hollywood musical format.

By 1964, the Walt Disney brand was struggling creatively. Mary Poppins was their fifth release of the year, preceded by four lesser-impact films – A Tiger Walks, The Misadventures of Merlin Jones, The Three Lives of Thomasina, and The Moon-Spinners. The previous year, they had released their first two sequels: Savage Sam, a follow-up to Old Yeller, flopped, while Son of Flubber performed moderately well without surpassing The Absent-Minded Professor. Disney’s trademark magic seemed in short supply.

On paper, Mary Poppins might not have seemed promising. Travers’ whimsical books about a supernatural nanny and her charges were charming and episodic but not overtly cinematic. Director Robert Stevenson, an experienced Disney stalwart, was known for proficiency rather than inspiration. Dick Van Dyke, the biggest name in the cast, was primarily a TV star and not an obvious blockbuster draw. Initially, the film was conceived as a vehicle for American musical theatre star Mary Martin as Poppins, with Hayley Mills as Jane Banks. Later, Angela Lansbury and Cary Grant were considered for the roles of Poppins and Bert, respectively.

It’s possible the film could have been made with all its craftsmanship, musicality, and trailblazing live-action animation fusion and still been successful without Andrews. But imagining Mary Poppins without Julie Andrews is like trying to envision The Wizard of Oz without Judy Garland. Andrews was the X factor that made it all work. Unproven on screen, Andrews had been Broadway’s toast in My Fair Lady, only for Warner Bros to choose Audrey Hepburn over her for the film version. She approached Mary Poppins with a determination to prove she could carry a film as well as she had dominated stage musicals.

Her performance was one of the most emphatic and unusual star debuts in cinema history, blending sweetness with eccentricity, and English-rose innocence with an underlying mystique. The practically-perfect-in-every-way governess of Travers’ books may have been magical and kind, but she wasn’t entirely warm. She possessed a coolly authoritative streak, a prim defense of her privacy, and an air of womanly knowledge beyond the realm of childhood. What exactly do she and Bert do on the London rooftops once the children are in bed?

Andrews’ portrayal preserved these wholesome yet sinister contradictions. Her precise enunciation mirrored Poppins’ wind-blown arrivals and vague objectives, while musically, she could be a ghostly lullaby singer in one moment and a robust music hall performer in the next. Travers famously loathed Disney’s interpretation of her books, seeing the film as overly sentimental and Americanized. Van Dyke’s notorious Cockney accent likely didn’t help. However, if Travers’ objections extended to Andrews, they were unfair. Andrews’ subtle hints of Poppins’ underlying toughness keep the film compelling, like a dash of vinegar giving a pavlova its zest. This complexity likely won her the best actress Oscar for one of cinema’s atypical roles.

Years ago, a re-edited trailer for Mary Poppins went viral, depicting the cheery children’s film as a Gothic horror movie. However, the actual film already contained a touch of eeriness. The reason Mary Poppins endures amid its tuneful charm is that there’s something a little unsettling, a little uncanny about the film and its heroine. The frisson of the unknown keeps both children and adults enchanted – a sense of otherworldly unpredictability, unresolved by the film’s kite-flying finale, that remains rare in Disney’s otherwise highly curated family offerings.

Subsequent Disney attempts to recapture this magic have highlighted the film’s unique allure. Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971) tried to repeat the formula with Stevenson, the Shermans, cartoon interludes, and Lansbury instead of Andrews, but it felt forced and mechanical. Mary Poppins Returns (2018) strived to function both as a sequel and a tribute, but its nostalgia weighed it down. Emily Blunt’s affectionate mimicry of Andrews and Marc Shaiman’s pastiche of the Sherman Brothers served only to remind audiences of the original’s peculiar brilliance.

The 2013 film Saving Mr Banks acted as Disney’s tribute to its own achievement with Mary Poppins. Its portrayal of the creative tussle between Walt Disney (Tom Hanks) and PL Travers (Emma Thompson) served as a reminder that Disney had made all the right decisions back in 1964. The modern Disney corporation’s endless revisiting of its archive raises the question of whether any contemporary Disney products will merit such a tribute in 60 years’ time.

Source: The Guardian