Showing posts with label pixel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pixel. Show all posts

Mary Poppins, All Grown Up



At South Pointe Casino, their theatre has been putting on a “Classic Series” recently, showing films that haven’t graced the big screen in a number of years. While I’ve been able to see Ben Hur, Singin’ in the Rain, and Chinatown, my most recent venture was to see that of Mary Poppins. (All of which were complete with film grain, glorious film grain!)

As a kid, I didn’t much care for the MP. I watched it because it was allowed—and/or on—and had an animated sequence. But I never really enjoyed the endless songs or all of those “real” people—regardless of their fan-fucking-tastical nature. My viewings over the years have been sparse, and the last time I saw it, I remember that my biggest revelation was noticing that Uncle Albert (the nutbar giggling on the ceiling of his house) is also the voice of the Mad Hatter in Disney’s animated version of Alice in Wonderland. Outside of that connection, my response hadn’t changed: too much singing, not enough animation, and that “Step in Time” song/dance goes on for far, far too long.

And really, who didn’t watch this film as a child and get creeped out by Dick Van Dyke’s portrayal of Mr. Dawes Senior? The look in his eye before he snatches the tuppence from Michael… Some mighty fine acting on his part, as it freaked me out as a child and was still more than a little unsettling as an adult. Sadly though, this always seems like such a focal point of the film, his monstrousness—followed in turn by his laughing himself to death. I don’t know how many quips and comments I’ve heard about this over the years, the Scrooge-like transformation that is more than a little ridiculous.

However, my recent viewing flipped my proverbial shit, as it became an entirely new film to my “adult” eyes.

While rewatching the thing, I questioned who actually owned the film. And like The Dark Knight, where the film isn’t the titular character’s—it’s totally Harvey’s—Mary Poppins isn’t about Mary or Bert or even the two, doe-eyed kids. It’s Mr. Bank’s film. Period. He’s the one who changes. He’s the one who grows. And in the end, he’s the only one who “learns” anything. (Yes, the children see their father in a new light, but they never hated him or had much of a problem with him to begin with—even though they had every right.) It’s all about George and the inversion of his world, from being one of order, where he’s entirely in control, to one where he’s stripped of his title and stature, and has little to no say over what’s happening in his life and household.

Especially for the time of the film’s release, where the American Dream was kickin’ down noggin-doors and blasting through the American collective consciousness—talk about the thematic opposite. Yes, having a successful family was an important ideal of the time—and still supposedly is—but it hinged on the husband’s success, what he provided and the status he achieved in life. Ultimately though, it’s this exact ideal and ladder-climbing pursuit that George must give up in order to find happiness.

(This is taken further when Mr. Banks breaks the fourth wall of film and stares down the audience—twice, no less—as Bert dispenses his two cents about life, Mary Poppins, and what it means to be happy.)

In the end, George’s exclamation of “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” is the equivalent of a “Fuck You” to Mr. Dawes Senior, his current lifestyle, and—in essence—the American Dream. He doesn’t care about his social status or amassing a Scrooge McDuck cache of cash, as long as he has joy in his life, joy brought about by his wife and children.

And, yes, I’ll admit that he doesn’t have to worry for long. It all ends on a happy note—as Disney films do, regardless of how the source material concludes. But that doesn’t decrease the importance of George’s choice. After his dark and solitary walk to the bank, he doesn’t know that it will all work out. Rather than become a distraught and bitter man, he finally realizes that he’s been broken all along, and it’s only letting go of his self expectations, his class, and his life that fixes him.

I guess this is why the film has its “Classic” status, as any story that grows and changes as you do has to amount to something worthwhile…

Right?

Dissecting Dory

With its recent re-release in 3-D—and, yes, I'll be one of the first to admit that this is simply a way to make a quick buck—I couldn't help but go see Finding Nemo. (Really, animation is my vice. Even if the movie looks horrible, I'll still shell out $10.00 to watch it in the theatre.) And, like I remember first being all those years ago, the film caught me off guard. It's one of those films that I rarely think about and have, maybe, watched it six or seven times since its initial release in 2003, but anyone would be hard-pressed to say that it isn't a good bit of storytelling. Even if you don't always—or ever—like Pixar's films, those guys know their elements of a narrative and have that shit down to a science.

What I realized this time around, though, is that it's one thing, and one thing alone, that makes the film: Dory. The combination of spectacular animation, spot-on dialogue, and Ellen DeGeneres's outstanding voice-acting blend into one of the best characters in recent years—and the driving force for the film.

In all honesty, I could care less about Marlin, the little lost Nemo, and even the tank full of escape-obsessed fish, but Dory punches me in the heart every time. She may be the best argument for ignorance is bliss that I've ever seen, as her good humor and unwavering optimism stem from her lack of focus or being able to remember, or be aware of, the current plight. But that's what makes her so special. Nothing can get her down. She finds the fun and life in every moment, from bouncing on jellyfish tops to spiraling along with the water inside the whale's mouth. And she's always willing to help, regardless of what she's doing—seeing as she probably has no idea what she's doing—but she's always, always putting others before herself. She's a perfect picture of selflessness, something you so rarely see in anyone or anything these days—real life or in the fictional world.

The only time you see her "selfishness"  (please note my lack of punning that could've been) leak through is when Marlin is about to abandon her. (If this doesn't tear you up or, bare minimum, choke you up, then I'd start checking yourself for a "Manufactured by Skynet" label somewhere.) Even then, it's not truly selfishness, which is why I put it in quotes. She doesn't want him to leave because he makes her a better version of herself. She remembers things more easily. With him, she feels "home."  And isn't that something we shouldn't begrudge anyone for wanting? Shouldn't it be okay to want to be with someone that makes you better than you would be alone—or even with another?

Even at the end of that scene, she doesn't begrudge Marlin for leaving, or even like him any less. If anything, it just makes you think that Marlin really is just an orange and white-striped dicknose.

It amazes me that one character can have such an affect on a story. That they can make or break the entire thing. Which goes to show why it's better to focus on your characters over the action. Sure, plotting is good. Action needs to happen. But in the end, if we don't have characters that our readers and viewers will click with on an emotional level—or simply fall in love with them—then what's the point of the story in first place?