Between freshman and sophomore year of college I went on a bus tour of the United Kingdom with my family, which largely consisted of long drives through endless countryside to see decrepit castles, Welsh towns with very long names and an unreasonable amount of vowels, and the occasional herd of sheep, which our tour guide was very excited about. This also included two free days in London, where my parents and I split the difference between their desire to see all the tourist stuff, and my desire to just pick a direction and walk and stumble upon what we may. It was on one of these aimless walks through a nondescript neighborhood, the sounds of traffic low, that I thought I heard something musical. A few stray notes wafting through the air, which I began to follow, and in a moment the melody became clear and the song snapped into focus.
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“Chim-chim-er-ee/chim-chim-er-ee/chim-chim/cher-eee.”
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And following the strain of melody led us to a small gazebo in a small park, where a brass band played a twenty minute medley of songs from Mary Poppins, which really sounds like the sort of thing that only happens in fiction, but which I swear is 100% true, because like any piece of pop culture you love, it has a tendency to follow you. I watched the movie all the time when I was a kid, usually consecutively, so much so that I wore out at least one VHS tape. You can imagine what a surprise it was to later learn that the movie is just ten minutes shy of being two and a half hours long. (Can you imagine Disney releasing a two and a half hour movie now?) And yet the movie flies by, jumping from song to song and set piece to set piece, each one spectacular and fun and imaginative.
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All of this works, in large part, thanks to Julie Andrews’ performance, which nabbed her an Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role. Andrews is truly fantastic here, bringing to life a character who is aloof, smart, sarcastic, but deeply compassionate. Mary Poppins was a character I looked up to and aspired to be like, and the kind of person I like to be friends with. Not only is a great performance, but it grounds the more fantastical elements of the film. You can’t accuse the movie of getting too silly without Mary beating you to the punch.
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And yet she never feels like a drag, in part because the movie does occasionally get very silly, and because she exists in a nice middle ground. There’s Mr. Banks, who is, to use a line from the Sandman issue “The Sound of Her Wings,” “an utter banker.” Responsible, serious, and without a sense of humor. On the other side of the spectrum is Bert, a wandering Jack-of-All-Trades with no ties to anything and an insatiable appetite for fun. She is the lawful neutral between anarchy and suffocating order. She rides the middle ground like a professional, making sure that fun can be had, but that it doesn’t become its sole pursuit. It’s important to not just teach responsibility, but also compassion. Clean your room, jump into a chalk painting, and give some money to the old woman who feeds pigeons in the park. It’s a very good philosophy. In fact, it’s practically perfect in every way.