Oh Please, Mary!

In order to survive the NYC heatwave this weekend, I dipped my feet in a plastic babypool, shared popsicles with a 19 month old, and sat in front of my AC with a movie that I hoped wouldn't raise my temperature- Mary Poppins Returns (2018).

As those of you who follow me know- I'm a little remake/sequel averse. If a movie is practically perfect in every way, why try to recreate it or stretch it out? More often than not the attempt ruins the recipe and creates a dim reflection of the original. Of course there are exceptions- but that's another blog post... that I'll probably write when Spielberg's West Side Story comes out.

The original Mary Poppins (1964) is an undeniable childhood classic. It's unjaundiced view of imagination and the sparkling impenetrable propriety of its star Julie Andrews is a delight from stem to stern (as Admiral Boom would say). Yes, animation and live action filming techniques have come a long way since 1964, but the freshness of this film's images still retain the glee that audiences first experienced back when Barry Goldwater was running for President.

So why do Mary Poppins Returns 54 years later? Well... Disney's on a re-boot/remake kick. They have had success with a string of animation to live action remakes including this weekend's $185 million box office bonanza, The Lion King (2019)- which pretty much just replaces 1994 animation with 2019 CGI animation... and Beyonce. So it was inevitable that the execs at Disney would bring back the famous umbrella-wielding nanny for a "new generation" of expected box office dollahs.

They get some stuff really right. The cast includes the emotionally vulnerable (and Brit cutie) Ben Whishaw as all grown up Michael Banks, David Warner as the aforementioned land-lubbed Admiral Boom, Meryl Streep in a red wig that Johnny Depp may have turned down for Alice in Wonderland (2010) (another Disney re-make), Colin Firth as the charmingly duplicitous Wilkins, and a couple Supercalifragilisticexpealidocius cameos that I refuse to spoil.

The nostalgic animation style in the "Royal Doulton Music Hall" number is pure golden era Disney. There are flashes of unassailable charm and a couple moments where I got choked-up dreaming of what (or who) I would find in "The Place Where Lost Things Go." So why didn't I love this movie?

The reason Returns wasn't such a jolly holiday with Mary is at the core of the danger of remakes- are you doing something new- or are you literally repeating what worked before? Return can't seem to make up it's mind which one it's doing. Marc Shaiman's songs feel like they were in the final running for the original Mary Poppins. They're good- but almost identical to the originals.

The finale "Nowhere to Go But Up" might as well be "Let's Go Fly a Kite" replacing the item at the end of the string with a balloon. Richard M. Sherman who along with his deceased brother did the original Poppins music was involved in Returns, so maybe his influence was too reverenced to overcome.

The songs aren't the only carbon copies, though. The situations for the numbers follow the original gameplan- almost to the letter. Instead of a song about cleaning up your room, it's one about taking a bath. Mary pops the children into a chinabowl instead of a chalk painting. Instead of visiting an uncle who laughs and floats up to the ceiling (God, I love Ed Wynn), we visit a cousin whose world turns upside down.  Instead of dancing chimneysweeps, we get dancing (and bike-riding) lamplighters. It's as if the writers took whiteout to the old script and filled in new nouns.

But all of this similarity happens in a much darker setting. Gone is the colorful Edwardian Cherry Lane, replaced with a London gripped by the Great Depression. While the first Mary Poppins grappled with a stuffy society that discouraged imagination, Returns focuses on using imagination to deal with the death of your mother and possible homelessness. I mean, whoa. There's a big difference between trying to decide whether to give an old bird lady your tuppence or invest it; and how can I make sure I remember my dead mommy? It's fucking bleak.

It felt like some screenwriting guru whispered "raise the stakes" to Rob Marshall one time too many. I know we live in a much different world now and kids are used to seeing death and destruction in super hero movies and on the news- but the joy of the first Poppins was pure escapism. This one brings along our societal baggage- and it definitely holds more than a coat rack.

As for the stars, Emily Blunt is graceful yet prickly- but her singing chops are nowhere close to La Andrews. Lin-Manuel Miranda as the 30's version of Dick Van Dyke is engaging enough- but his dancing doesn't measure up to his magnetic, sooty forebear (although Kristen Bell would likely disagree with me.)

Returns wants it both ways- "It worked the last time- let's do it again" and "Let's update this classic." In this particular case, it feels like you can't have your candyfloss and eat it too.