Number 3100: Explore Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney

Back in May, I timed my 3000th post here on Epinions to coincide with the eight Epi-versary of my fellow bookworm Beth. When I realized that my reviewing pace was putting my 3100th review in close proximity to the Epi-versary of another extraordinary Epinionator, I pondered what might make an appropriate subject of a review to celebrate the marvelous Mark’s six years on the site. Then I happened upon Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney, and I stopped looking and started reading.

I had already seen the documentary from which this coffee table book by Katherine and Richard Greene arose, and I found it thoroughly enjoyable, so I went into this handsome biography with high expectations, and I’m happy to say they were met. Though it’s not quite 200 pages long, the hefty size allows for a fair amount of writing on each page, along with illustrations in the form of photos, sketches, movie stills, posters, memos, newspaper clippings and all sorts of other visual materials. Even those who aren’t too interested in Walt himself might want to browse through this book simply for the wealth of visual materials showing classic characters and attractions in their early stages.

The book includes a foreword by Diane Disney Miller, the older of Walt’s two daughters, and the book frequently quotes her as well. Sadly, Walt’s younger daughter, Sharon, died in 1993, several years before these interviews were conducted, but earlier recollections from her and other deceased relatives and associates pop up here and there. Most of the quotes, however, come from the Greenes’ interviews with 77 people who had some kind of personal connection to Walt, whether through family, friendship or business.

As the Introduction explains, the raw material for the documentary included about 38 hours of interviews that had to be whittled down to fit into an hour-and-a-half-long movie. Creating a book allowed more room for these voices to be heard. That’s not to say that the book is nothing but a collection of quotes. Instead, it is a cohesive narrative told in five parts, each broken down further into multiple sections.

First Dreams focuses on Walt’s young adulthood and his early forays into animation and movies. Here the Greenes recount his earliest projects, including the Alice in Wonderland shorts, which involved a real child immersed in a fantastical animated land; Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, Walt’s first major animated character; the creation and renaming of Mickey Mouse; and the beginning of the Silly Symphonies. Half of the six sections involve Walt’s career, while the other half deal with his personal life, focusing on his parents, Flora and Elias; his wife, Lilly; and his fondness for the sport of polo.

Worlds to Conquer begins with the ambitious experiment of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs before delving into the darker days of the animators’ strike and World War II, both of which had a major impact upon the studio’s productivity. Broken into seven sections, this part also discusses Walt’s passion for constantly improving his craft, from bringing live animals into the studio for Bambi to pushing the boundaries of animation with Fantasia. It also touches on his goodwill trip to South America, out of which came the movies Saludos Amigos and The Three Caballeros, and his massive output of films for the government. It was a time of intense highs like the Snow White premiere and crushing lows like his mother’s death by asphyxiation, and it ultimately led to a shift in focus.

New Horizons deals with Walt’s foray into live action, discussing his action films and documentaries and his decision to embrace television rather than fearing it as a threat to his success as a filmmaker. This part of the book, which includes 11 sections, is the longest, encompassing Walt’s passion for nature, his ability to see the possibilities inherent in television, his fondness for trains and the delight he took in carefully crafting his two major theme parks, only one of which he would live to see opened. It also discusses the animated films of the time, and some of the tidbits here are fascinating. For instance, the scene at the beginning of Lady and the Tramp in which Jim presents the Cocker Spaniel puppy to his wife in a hatbox was inspired by Walt having done the same thing. I also found it interesting that Walt disliked Alice in Wonderland, one of the few animated Disney features I don’t particularly enjoy, complaining that it had no heart. Not so with Cinderella, which was being crafted at the same time, and the recollection of Walt’s idea to have Ilene Woods, who voiced her, harmonize with herself is wonderful. Throw in the broad comedies like The Shaggy Dog and The Parent Trap that are the focus of the last section, and this is a very packed chapter.

Tomorrow Land features eight sections and concludes with Walt’s death in 1966. It spends a good chunk of time on Mary Poppins, considered by many to be Walt’s crowning achievement in the realm of movies. Here we read about the tug-of-war with P. L. Travers, who wrote the books upon which the movie is based, and the warm sense of synchronicity among Walt and the Sherman Brothers when it came to their vision for this film. When I watched The Boys, a documentary about the Sherman Brothers, last year, I first heard the story recounted here about how deeply Walt connected to the song Feed the Birds. “That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?” he said of the song, which he often asked “the boys” to play for him. This anecdote particularly moves me because that’s always been my favorite song in the movie and one of my favorite Disney songs period. New to me, and quite amusing, was Dick Van Dyke’s confession that he so wanted to play the senior banker that he offered to do it for free and actually ended up paying for the privilege, as Walt wheedled him into donating $4000 to CalArts, an institute for the arts that he founded and to which he left half his estate. The remainder of the chapter discusses Walt’s involvement in the World’s Fair, his obsession with city planning and vision for Epcot, his enthusiasm for travel, his last months and the reaction to his death. As my grandpa was the same age as Walt when he died, also of quickly-progressing lung cancer, this sad final portion particularly resonates with me.

Finally, Walt’s Legacy is far shorter and is basically just a collection of nine commentaries by various experts about Walt’s impact upon the world. These include late news anchor Walter Cronkite, film scholar Leonard Maltin and children’s book author Maurice Sendak. Science fiction author Ray Bradbury, a close friend of Walt’s for the last couple years of his life, gets the final word, eloquently discussing the positive difference he made.

The book is formatted so that you can easily read a section in one sitting and then decide whether you want to go on to the next one right away or just let those few pages simmer a while. The larger part of the book deals with his career, but the personal sections take up almost as much space. The design makes leafing through the sections simple. I especially like that each career-focused section is printed on a white background and has a headline of white letters against a red strip, while the personal sections have beige backgrounds and the headline strip is gold. Meanwhile, the quotes scattered throughout both sections stand out, with some in blue pull-out boxes and others in yellow or beige. Meanwhile, all of Walt’s quotes are in red letters and simply printed against the white background instead of boxed in. The book is loaded with great quotes that lend insight to Walt directly or indirectly, but of the ones I hadn’t heard or read before, the one that stood out most to me is this from Walt: “All right, I’m corny. But I think there’s just about a hundred and forty million people in this country who are just as corny as I am.” I’m happy to be one of them.

This book presents a vivid picture of an extraordinary man from humble beginnings who was forever driven by his creativity and his desire to keep making new innovations. He comes across as a perfectionist but not a workaholic; while he was always very hands-on with his films, television projects and theme park plans, he was also a devoted father who always took time to play with his daughters. A strong work ethic and a sense of childlike wonder helped propel his company, as did his willingness to take huge financial risks. As this book was conceived partly as a response to unflattering portraits of Walt that emerged after his death, one might say that its unfailingly sunny portrayal is a bit suspect; every time a situation comes up in which Walt’s actions are called into question, he comes out in the right. Does the book lionize him a bit too much? Maybe. But even if there might be some less palatable aspects of his personality left unexplored, the dozens of positive anecdotes strengthen the credibility of the authors, and his body of work and subsequent legacy speak for themselves.

This December marks the 110th anniversary of Walt’s birth. It’s a great time to get to know the man behind the Mouse a little better. Unless you’re already an expert – and maybe even if you are – you should find some new insights within Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney. I certainly did. Thank you, Walt – and Mark, too – for making the world a more magical place.

Learn About Disney's Life With Walt: The Man Behind the Myth

I’ve loved Disney for as long as I can remember. Lately, I’ve been learning a bit more about him and the remarkable company he built through documentaries. The latest I saw was the 2001 made-for-TV doc Walt: The Man Behind the Myth, which focuses specifically on his life, from his childhood to his death at the too-young age of 65 from lung cancer.

This documentary is directed by Jean-Pierre Isbouts, who shares writing credit with Katherine and Richard Greene. The film consists mostly of talking head-type testimonials from a wide variety of people involved with Disney on a personal or professional level and video clips of both Disney and the work he did. There are clips dating back as far as the 1920s, maybe even earlier, and they all look remarkably sharp. The friend who saved this for me on her DVR was especially impressed with the quality of the footage. Through home videos, we are able to see Walt Disney with his guard down, just being a laid-back family man, while the animation clips give us a good sense of the progression of his work.

It’s interesting to see such a cross-section of personalities commenting on Disney’s life. Dozens of people contribute their recollections, and each talking head segment is accompanied by that person’s signature, which adds a nice touch. Expected voices include the Sherman Brothers, who relate anecdotes also included in The Boys: The Sherman Brothers’ Story; animators Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston; filmmaker John Lasseter; and various members of the Disney family. Some of the interviewees who caught me by surprise a bit were author Ray Bradbury, historian Brian Sibley and television personality Art Linkletter. In addition to these interviews, we see several famous folks pop up in archive footage.

This movie offers a pretty straightforward account of Walt Disney’s life, presenting the highlights of his career and providing a good sense of what he was like as a person. When it was over, my friend commented that the film may have over-glorified him a bit; I’ll agree that he’s presented in an unfailingly positive light, so if you’re coming to this movie hoping for deep dark secrets, search elsewhere.

The closest the documentary comes to negativity is mentioning that he was a tough taskmaster whose praise was generally understated or delivered second-hand. But nobody seemed to mind this much; his commitment to excellence pushed them all to work harder, and the sparseness of his praise made his few well-chosen words that much more meaningful. Were there less admirable aspects of his personality that didn’t come to light here? Probably. But as a celebration of Walt Disney, this documentary certainly does the trick.

Dick Van Dyke, instantly recognizable even all these years later as the voice behind Bert, the happy-go-lucky chimney sweep who shares the spotlight with Mary Poppins in one of Disney’s most marvelous movies, warmly narrates the film. I can’t think of any other actor whose narration here would provide such a sense of deep affection. His presence undeniably added to the emotional appeal of the movie for me, and I found myself getting a little misty-eyed on more than one occasion as he talked about Walt’s dreams and his determination to make them a reality.

Anyone who has ever enjoyed a Disney movie will probably find something to interest them here. Walt: The Man Behind the Myth is a joyous celebration of a man with seemingly limitless imagination and of the empire he created.

My Top Ten Movies of the '60s

A grand decade for Disney, the 1960s included some of my all-time favorite movies, as well as a lot of flicks that are highly watchable once, with limited replay value.  All of my top ten are ones I'd be happy to sit through multiple times.  And have.

Peter Pan (1960) - Though I'm not a fan of the Disney version of the J. M. Barrie classic about a boy who stays forever young on a magical isle called Never-Neverland, I love this version, a television adaptation of the musical starring Mary Martin. She is endearingly spunky, and I never seem to mind much that she's a girl. Perhaps that softens Peter's bravado; even when he's bragging up a storm with I Gotta Crow, I don't find him nearly as obnoxious as the animated Disney imp. I love the songs throughout the film, and the performance of Cyril Ritchard as sinister but silly Captain Hook / ineffective Mr. Darling is the most entertaining aspect of the whole movie.

Swiss Family Robinson (1960) - Two words: ostrich races. Not to mention the treehouse of my dreams and what may have been the beginning of my love affair with stories about folks shipwrecked on seemingly uninhabited islands.

The Sword in the Stone (1963) - I can trace my love of King Arthur back to this Disney cartoon, in which he is a scrawny kid known as "the Wart" living under the thumb of his corpulent uncle and brutish cousin. Merlin serves as a wise but comical mentor, with some help from the requisite animal sidekick, Archimedes, who bears a strong resemblance to the owl from Bambi. Sticking with the fairly light-hearted portion of T. H. White's The Once and Future King, heightening the slapstick and doing a lot of simplifying, it's among the funniest animated Disney films, even if it was less successful than most.

Mary Poppins (1964) - A real contender for my all-time favorite movie. The songs showcase the Sherman Brothers at their best, from peppy classics like Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious to my personal favorite, the compassionate, religiously loaded Feed the Birds. The cast is wonderful, especially Julie Andrews as eccentric but exceptional Mary and Dick Van Dyke as irrepressibly jolly Bert. An engrossing tale of magic, imagination and parents and children coming to appreciate each other, it's also the movie that made me fall in love with London.

Cinderella (1965) - I've seen many versions of this story, but this television adaptation of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, starring Leslie Anne Warren, will always be my favorite. She makes such a perfect Cinderella, sweet and starry-eyed, dutifully doing her chores amid abuses by her absurd step-mother and step-sisters but taking time to imagine better things. The prince is dreamy, with loads more personality than the Disney version, and Cinderella's step-family is hilarious. The step-sisters even evoke some sympathy, as the lady of the house is scarcely any kinder to her own daughters. It's all very low-frills, with scarcely any props at all, but the story and the fantastic songs more than make up for it. This is my second-favorite Rodgers and Hammerstein musical.

The Sound of Music (1965) - This, naturally, tops the list. Rodgers and Hammerstein's crowning achievement, it's another movie starring Julie Andrews as an unusual nanny who swoops in to repair a family with unruly children and a distant father. But in this case, she plays an aspiring nun who hadn't bargained on falling in love with the dashing captain so excellently portrayed by Christopher Plummer. The sweeping cinematography, the iconic songs, the historical backdrop, the religious overtones, the humor, the romance... It all blends perfectly for a movie I can watch over and over again with rapt enjoyment.

The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming (1966) - Quite possibly the funniest movie of the decade. Of course, by the time I saw this, Russians no longer seems a great threat, so I never had much reason to see Alan Arkin's merry band of accidental invaders as antagonists. I just reveled in the relentless slapstick and silly one-liners. But I've also come to think of it as an inspiring tale underneath all that comedy, one that dares to hope that people who are supposedly enemies can be united by a common goal and can overcome suspicions to form unlikely friendships.

The Graduate (1967) - It took a couple of viewings for me to really appreciate this movie, which stars a hilariously awkward Dustin Hoffman as confused young college graduate Benjamin, who is lured into an affair with the wife of a family friend. But now that I've been in Benjamin's shoes - as an aimless college grad, that is, not someone who channeled that aimlessness in such an unhealthy direction - the film seems very apt. And what kind of Simon and Garfunkel fan would I be if I left this off the list?

The Jungle Book (1967) - Another triumph for the Sherman Brothers, this story of a boy raised by wolves features an intriguing array of creatures, each with a distinct personality. No-nonsense panther Bagheera, sibilant snake Kaa, haughty elephant Colonel Hathi, lackadaisical bear Baloo, ambitious orangutan King Louie, sinister tiger Shere Khan and a hapless quartet of vultures all make an impact on Mowgli's journey. With the exception of the cats, they all have a song, too, each in a different style. Kaa has a hypnotic lullaby, Hathi a crisp march, Louie a jazzy scatfest, the vultures a Beatles-esque harmonious ode. Baloo, of course, gets one of the bounciest numbers in Disney history. A simple story magnificently told, with lush animation every step of the way.

The Love Bug (1969) - I just love WV bugs, and this is why. Herbie, the little white beetle with the number 53 on his side, is more lovable than any car ought to be. He doesn't talk; he simply uses a series of mechanical noises to communicate emotion, and he maintains control over his own steering. This is the first of his adventures. Though Dean Jones, David Tomlinson and especially Buddy Hackett make terrific co-stars, this little automobile is clearly the star.

Number 1900: Every Day Is a Jolly Holiday With Mary Poppins

If you were to ask me to compile a list of my favorite movies, I'd hem and haw as I always do when any question of ranking or superlatives comes up. I'd protest that I couldn't possibly produce anything definitive, that my favorites change all the time, that I've seen far too many films, most of which are pretty good. But eventually, you'd get a few titles out of me, one of which would indubitably be Mary Poppins. Like the magical nanny for whom it is named, the movie is practically perfect in every way, in large part because of the brilliant songs created by Robert and Richard Sherman. I can't think of too many worthier subjects for my 1900th post here on Epinions.

Overture - A beautiful piece of instrumental music incorporating the songs from the film. Gives you a little taste of what's to come, with a more orchestral spin on the tunes. I often find overtures a tad tedious, but I never mind sitting through this one.

Sister Suffragette - Glynis Johns is a delight as the mousy Mrs. Banks; this song is her one big moment in the spotlight. I love the way she also gets the cook and housekeeper enthusiastically involved in her rousing stand for women's rights. It includes the hilarious line "Though we adore men individually, we agree that as a group they're rather stupid," which seems to be the position of an awful lot of people, judging by the way nearly every commercial on television makes men out to be morons. What makes the song - and the sense of condescension in that line in particular - so funny is the fact that as soon as Mrs. Banks is out of the moment, she's hurriedly stashing away her sashes for fear of "infuriating" her husband.

The Life I Lead - The first song is Mrs. Banks' anthem of self-assurance; this is Mr. Banks', and it pops up in various forms as he is forced to reassess his role as the man of the house. He would like to think that he is the king of his castle, but he's about to find out that being a distant monarch means he has no idea about and no control over what's happening with his family. His obliviousness as his wife tries to tell him that the children are missing is priceless. David Tomlinson sings the march-style song with a wonderful clipped precision that establishes his character as a man driven by routine and a sense of privilege.

Perfect Nanny - Karen Dotrice and Matthew Garber are absolutely adorable in this movie, and this song showcases their talent as it gives Jane and Michael an opportunity to give their input as to what they are looking for in a nanny. Since the nannies always leave because of conflicts with the children, it seems it would be prudent to take their suggestions into consideration. I love how formally they write the advertisement, incorporating words such as "disposition" and "dominate" - while, still in the sweetest of tones, threatening abhorrent behavior if their requests are not met. The gentle lullaby-like accompaniment gives their voices, especially Dotrice's, a chance to shine, and the ad itself is, of course, what summons Mary Poppins in the first place, so in that regard, it's one of the most important moments in the movie.

A Spoonful of Sugar - One of the catchiest songs in the movie, and one of the biggest reasons I've always cursed the fact that no matter how I try, I absolutely cannot snap my fingers. Why can't it be "Clap! The job's a game"? Nonetheless, this song helped me through many a dreary room-cleaning exercise, and it's one of the most entertaining sequences in the movie. Just listening to it on the soundtrack, you can visualize all those elements of the disordered nursery zooming into their proper places. It's a bit of a throwback to Whistle While You Work, with magic making the job easier instead of a host of forest animals - though that industrious robin serves as inspiration to the children. This is the first time in the movie we get to hear Julie Andrews' melodious voice, and it's only appropriate that she should be in cahoots with a songbird. With Mary Poppins, nothing is run-of-the-mill. Who knew that cleaning up could be so much fun?

Pavement Artist (Chim Chim Cher-Ee) - Over the last few years, I've read a lot of complaints about Dick Van Dyke's inconsistent accent in this movie, but I never noticed it when I was younger, and even now that I've listened for it and can see what people mean, it doesn't bother me much because Van Dyke is just so fantastic. Bert, like Mr. Banks, has a theme song, and the jolly one-man-band / pavement artist / chimney sweep / kite seller alters the words depending on his occupation of the moment. I would love to shake hands with Bert.

Jolly Holiday - My parents once performed this song together. It's such a wonderfully joyous song, and the closest thing to a love song in the rare Disney film where romance is a subplot only hinted at and never really resolved. This is the only point in the movie during which Bert and Mary have some alone time, and there's a sense of very old friends picking up where they left off, simply basking in the pleasure of each other's company. Bert is more overt about it than Mary is, but when his sincere sentiments coupled with goofy antics give way to her more sophisticated response affirming her affections, it's terrific to see a glimpse of Mary, usually so calm and in control, as someone who can be swept off her feet. And the sublimely silly penguin dance beats Happy Feet hands down.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious - This other most recognizable song from the movie has given the world a word to trip over for the past 40 years. In sixth grade, I wrote a play for my class, and one of the things the main character had to do over the course of the play was spell this word. I played the main character... and that's a lot of letters to keep track of! Speaking of big words, this song also introduced me to the word "precocious." It's a lively group number that's great for sing-alongs, and I love the asides in the movie by random characters, especially the cowering fellow who "said it to me girl, and now we girl's me wife - and a lovely thing she is too!"

Stay Awake - Good ol' reverse psychology. Coupled with this incredibly soothing melody, it winds Jane and Michael down from their thrilling day, forcing them to succumb to unwanted slumber in their impossibly soft beds. There was a time I didn't like this song much, since it serves a similar purpose to Feed the Birds but isn't nearly as compelling, but Andrews works wonders with a lullaby, so I really don't mind it. Just a smidge less engaging than the rest, though.

I Love to Laugh - How can you not get the giggles while listening to Ed Wynn chortling his way through this deliriously goony song? As someone who is pretty prone to random, excessive giggling, I've often wished that it actually had the anti-gravity effects presented in this scene. Alas, I just have to imagine that part! Wynn is hilarious here, and I never get tired of Van Dyke's verse expounding upon different styles of laughter. As usual, Mary is the straight man in all of this, and she tut-tuts with disapproval when Uncle Albert, Bert and the kids go zooming up to the ceiling, but she allows the merriment to go on long enough for a graceful mid-air tea party before bringing the Bankses and the Berts down to earth.

A British Bank (The Life I Lead) - Mr. Banks resumes his kingly anthem as he tries to express his disapproval about all the frou-frou Mary has been filling the childrens' heads with. But Mary quickly takes over the reins (and the reign), putting words in his mouth - and rather sarcastic words at that ("When gazing at a graph that shows the profits up, their little cup of joy should overflow!"). Clearly Mary thinks Mr. Banks is a little too fixated on finances, but her main point here is arranging for the children to spend some time with their father, which they so desperately desire. At first Mr. Banks is delighted that they seem to be on the same page, and then he's confused, wondering how he wound up agreeing to this unplanned Bring Your Children to Work Day. What a subversive trick Mary has managed to play! Mr. Banks is starting to realize his lack of influence in his children's lives, a crucial step toward his eventual epiphany.

Feed the Birds - This was always my favorite song of the film, and I've never stopped loving it. The melody is gorgeous, as are the visuals of the birds swarming around St. Paul's Cathedral and the theme of compassion as good stewardship, especially in a Christian context. ("All around the Cathedral, the saints and apostles look down as she sells her wares. Although you can't see it, you know they are smiling each time someone shows that he cares.") In 2001, I fulfilled a long-held dream by climbing the steps of St. Paul's, tuppence in hand. Unfortunately, there was no bird woman there to sell me bird food, and most of the feathery folk seemed to be hanging out at Trafalgar Square that day. But it was still an exciting moment for me. This song is a perfect illustration of God's eye being on the sparrow and of the exhilaration of sharing with those in need.

Fidelity Fiduciary Bank - Not only is Van Dyke brilliant as Bert, he is outstanding - and almost unrecognizable - as the ancient, wobbly, wheezing senior Mr. Dawes, the eldest of a gaggle of fusty old men who serve as Mr. Banks' superiors. This is quite an eye-opening experience for the Banks children, and it's easy to understand how they could be so intimidated by all of these old, grim-looking men closing in on them with the encouragement of their own father. They try to get Michael excited about the prospect of investing his money, but they are so out-of-touch with their own childhoods that they have no idea how to talk to children on their level. "Affluence," "propriety," "self-amortizing canals," "established credit," "foreclosures," "private enterprise," "amalgamations"... What a bunch of gobbledygook when all Michael wants to do is feed the birds! A terrific illustration of the divide separating Mr. Banks from his children.

Chim Chim Cher-Ee - Leave it to Bert to make everything better. After the traumatizing morning at the bank, what a relief it is to spend the afternoon in the company of someone with little money to his name who knows how to have a great time wherever he goes! Oddly, though it occurs late in the film, this is Bert's main theme, with earlier incarnations of it building up to it rather than branching out from it. Like Mr. Banks, Bert sings about his satisfaction with his life, and in his case, it remains intact no matter what happens throughout the movie. Bert is a very flexible and easy-going guy; grateful for his freedom, he helps the children to understand some of the pressures working upon their father.

Step in Time - An incredibly long dance sequence that's much more fun to watch than to merely listen to. The rooftops of London, the glittering lights, the fancy tricks with the chimney smoke, the exuberant choreography... This one, stemming directly from the previous track, is pure - and rather pointless - fun. It's sort of like a square dance, with all of the instructions being called out, and because it is so repetitive and visually oriented, it loses the most in the transition from movie to album.

A Man Has Dreams / The Life I Lead / A Spoonful of Sugar - Here, Bert continues his work of trying to heal the rift in the Banks family by reminding Mr. Banks how precious his children are and that he will never regain the time with them that he is losing. It's a beautiful human moment for Mr. Banks, who up until this point has tried so hard to appear dignified. His reflection on shattered dreams is devastating, but Bert's response is downright heartbreaking. It seems a little strange that Mr. Banks should be confiding in this chimney sweep, but such is his desperation and Bert's naturally sympathizing disposition that the barriers come down in this touching, dirge-like medley.

Let's Go Fly a Kite - Thankfully, there's one more song after that, so we don't end on such a downer. Indeed, what could be more up than flying a kite? At last, Mr. Banks has met his children halfway, and they can all enjoy the day together, knowing that they have turned a new corner in their relationship. Though this song signals Mary's departure, the song feels much more joyous than its equivalent in Pete's Dragon, in which Elliot the dragon makes his exit, never to return. At least with Bert faithfully waiting for Mary in London, it seems likely that she will come back someday; in the meantime, the children will be too busy basking in their father's newfound priorities to spend much time moping over the loss of the most remarkable nanny they'll ever have. Mary has done her job, with a lot of help from the always affable Bert. All is well.

That sense of contentment washes over me anytime I hear one of these remarkable songs. Quite possibly my all-time favorite Disney movie, Mary Poppins hinges largely on the mastery of the Sherman Brothers and the musical talents of its cast. "When the day is gray and ordinary," sings Bert, "Mary makes the sun shine bright." What a marvelous way to brighten up your day!

Robin Williams Brings Sage Serenity to Madcap Museum Comedy

When we were very young, my family went to a museum and were greeted inside by a massive Tyrannosaurus Rex. It was only a model, of course, but that didn't stop my brother from being so freaked out that he ran screaming from the building. I can only imagine what his reaction would have been had he found himself face to face with the suddenly animated T-Rex in Night at the Museum.

I first saw previews for this Ben Stiller blockbuster back in June, and while it wasn't at the top of my must-see list, I was still pretty intrigued. A-list cast, PG rating, havoc in a museum... What's not to love? But I didn't catch the movie until it played on my family's return flight from California last month. They weren't the most ideal viewing conditions, squinting into the small screen with a cloudy head brought on by motion sickness medication, but I focused as best I could and managed to get the gist of it pretty well.

Larry Daley is the typical Stiller schmuck. His career history is shoddy at best, to the point that his own son, Nick (Jake Cherry), who lives primarily with his mother, looks down on him, so when he manages to land a job as a night watchman at the Museum of Natural History, he keeps it despite the very strange occurrences that plague him his first night on the job, and of which the mysterious trio who hired him (Dick Van Dyke, Mickey Rooney, Bill Cobbs) gave him little warning.

The trouble? Everything in the museum comes to life at night. The T-Rex bounds down the hallways, wanting to play catch. Teddy Roosevelt (Robin Williams) distributes sage advice and makes eyes at Sacajawea (Mizuo Peck). Ornery cowboy Jedediah (Owen Wilson) and ferocious Attila the Hun (Patrick Gallagher) provide numerous headaches, and an ill-tempered monkey launches himself upon Larry whenever he has the chance. How is this happening? Is there a way to make it stop? Is it worth risking life and limb for a measly ten bucks an hour?

It isn't long before we discover the esteemed elder statesmen have a trick or two up their sleeves, but it's long enough that Larry has formed an attachment to some of his unconventional charges and is concerned enough about their welfare to launch an offensive against the threesome's nefarious plans, which means several overloaded action sequences packed with special effects and more jokes involving the bodily functions of monkeys than should be allowed in one movie.

It's a feast for the eyes, albeit a very chaotic one, as characters from dioramas spanning the centuries clash or cooperate with one another. There's little to cause great offense, aside from the aforementioned potty humor, which one comes to expect from Stiller but which is toned down considerably here. He's a likable guy - much more likable, incidentally, than his sanctimonious son - and though the love interest angle takes a major backseat to the rest of the action, Rebecca (Carla Gugino), the apple of his eye, seems like a decent potential match.

The cast stand-outs, however, are the devious, hilarious trio played by Van Dyke, Rooney and Cobbs - of whom the former two are among my favorite actors, though I haven't seen much of either of them lately - and Williams in a surprisingly serene role. He's the voice of reason in all the madness that is the museum, without whom Larry (whom he insists on calling "Lawrence") would be hopelessly lost. And yet he's only emulating the real Teddy, so toward the end we see this strong mentorly figure steeped in vulnerability, and it's really quite touching.

Williams really is the factor that pushes this movie beyond pure silliness; that sobering touch improves the film a great deal. Night at the Museum is still a puffy piece of entertainment, and there's nothing wrong with that, but thanks to a little help from an esteemed former president, it's just a little bit more.