Last year, in recognition of Thanksgiving, the lovely Nicole started a write-off
focusing on gratitude. If you’re looking for a smile over the next few
days, I recommend reading the entries and reflecting on the blessings in
your own life. This year, I decided to aim for reaching my 3200nd post
here on Thanksgiving and commemorating it with Grateful: A Song of Giving Thanks, a picture book that wonderfully expresses an outlook on the world that should not be limited to just late November.
Grateful
is a part of The Julie Andrews Collection, which includes books “that
nurture the imagination and celebrate a sense of wonder.” Naturally, as
someone who counts Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music
as favorite movies, the Julie Andrews recommendation intrigued me, but I
came to this book primary through another avenue: Art Garfunkel.
While the song was written by John Bucchino and the book is illustrated
by Anna-Liisa Hakkarainen, I became familiar with it more than a decade
ago when Garfunkel recorded it for his Across America
special. This book includes a new recording of the song by him. The
words in the book and on the CD are the same, so it’s easy to listen and
follow along in the book, letting the gentle piano music with hints of
violin complement Hakkarainen’s warm illustrations while the words float
along on Garfunkel’s honeyed vocals. Additionally, for the musically
inclined, the final four pages of the book feature sheet music for the
song.
Aside from a couple of two-page spreads, the book
follows the format of painting on the left, words on the right. Most
pages have two or four lines, while a few have one or five. The words
are general enough that most of them feel fairly universal, mentioning
things that usually come up in a Thanksgiving reflection: family,
friends, faith, along with earthier needs like shelter. Several
different children of various nationalities appear together on one page,
emphasizing how many people have these same things to be thankful for.
The lyrics themselves aren’t affixed to any particular time of year,
while the illustrations move us along from autumn to winter, spring and
finally summer. Still, while the actual holiday of Thanksgiving is never
mentioned or depicted, this is an ideal book for the holiday as
thanksgiving is its whole purpose. Because of that, I think my favorite
painting is the two-page spread of the girl wandering through a fiery
autumnal landscape, her blue coat standing out amidst all the blazing
orange. This accompanies the first iteration of the chorus, the simple
“Grateful, grateful, truly grateful I am. Grateful, grateful, truly
blessed and duly grateful.”
My favorite lines, meanwhile, are
probably these ones right near the middle: “I feel a hand holding my
hand. It’s not a hand you can see. But on the road to the promised land,
this hand will shepherd me…” It’s a beautiful image for a powerful
belief. This book and song make for a great boost to the spirits any
time of year, but on a day when the idea of giving thanks looms so large
in the thoughts of so many, I can think of few better books with which
to celebrate than Grateful.
Showing posts with label Julie Andrews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Julie Andrews. Show all posts
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Eloise Speaks Her Mind and Runs Wild in Eloise at the Plaza
As an ardent fan of LOST,
the first character who springs to mind when I hear the name “Eloise”
is Eloise Hawking, one of the most unsettling maternal figures
television has ever seared into my brain. However, the name has had a
prominent place in children’s literature for decades. While I somehow
have never read the Eloise books by Kay Thompson, I recently watched the
2003 made-for-TV adaptation Eloise at the Plaza, so if I get
tired of having an austere British matron materialize at the mention of
“Eloise,” I have a rambunctious six-year-old American to fall back on.
Sofia Vassilieva stars as Eloise, the free-spirited blonde girl who lives in the Plaza Hotel with her faithful caretaker Nanny (Julie Andrews). Eloise is a whirling dervish, and Vassilieva keeps her in perpetual motion. It’s exhausting to watch her dash here and there, zooming up and down hallways, incessantly ringing the bell at the front desk, stirring up mischief on the elevator. She has a very short attention span, and it’s never long before she’s off on some new project. As tiring as her movements are, that’s nothing compared to her tongue. The girl can talk a blue streak, and she has no mental filter. “I always say what’s in my head,” she explains early on. “It’s so much easier that way.”
Her strategy is often exasperating to those around her, and her uppity affectations – particularly the way she pronounces “rather,” one of her favorite words – grate a bit. Nonetheless, her frank manner inspires many of those in her acquaintance, and perhaps the strongest theme running through the movie is the trouble that can ensue where open and honest communication is absent.
Molly (Stephanie Mills), a sweet high school senior, is afraid to tell her overbearing, high society mother (Eve Crawford) that she wants to travel instead of going to college and date not an aristocrat but a man who shares her passions. Eloise’s harried French tutor, Philip (Jonas Chernik), is too insecure to let slip that he would like to be that guy. Leon (Kintaro Akiyama), a polite, sheltered nine-year-old who spends a whirlwind day getting a taste of Eloise’s lifestyle, shrinks from confessing to his distant father (Dennis Akiyama), recently widowed, that he wants to leave boarding school and return home. Uptight hotel manager Mr. Salomone (Jeffrey Tambor) is so focused on vainly trying to keep Eloise unaware of the big event and the special guest that have the hotel in an uproar that he can scarcely make the preparations. And Eloise’s own beloved Nanny is too timid to tell the distinguished Sir Wilkes (Kenneth Welsh), another longtime guest, how much she likes him.
Eloise simply can’t fathom this lack of forthrightness, but she hopes to make up for it with a little finagling. She may be a bit of a hooligan at times, but she has a generous heart, and one of her passions is “fixing things that are broken.” In this movie, things get more broken before they get fixed, and there should be slapstick enough to satisfy the youngest viewers, who will likely find the thought of having free reign to wander through a posh hotel quite appealing. Adding to the confusion are Eloise’s pug and turtle, who have a knack for turning up at inopportune moments. While the chaos is a bit much at times, quiet scenes bring balance; the heart-to-heart between Eloise and the pensive Leon as they share a carriage ride through Central Park is simply lovely.
The movie, directed by Kevin Lima, makes liberal use of Hilary Knight’s illustrations, both incorporating them into the film and meticulously recreating them in live-action form. I highly recommend the making-of documentary in the special features, especially if you have little familiarity with the books. It’s fascinating to see the close kinship between the two art forms, and it made me appreciate the movie all the more. The plaza is a gorgeous piece of architecture, full of splendor and a touch of whimsy, and our glimpse of New York City at large is magical.
While I confess Vassilieva wears on me a bit, she has the perfect energy for the role, and there’s an undeniable charm to her as well. Still, it’s the much quieter Akiyama who really wins me over. I was surprised to see that this was his second and final film role; for me, he is the heart of the movie. It’s also a treat to see Andrews portraying what she describes in the documentary as “the anti-Mary Poppins.” That isn’t to say that she’s incompetent; she’s just about the only person who has any control over Eloise at all. But she is frazzled and unkempt, with a lowbrow accent and a fondness for boxing and booze. She is certainly not “practically perfect in every way,” but she is practically perfect for her young charge. Tambor is hilariously overwrought, Daniels and Chernik are adorable together and Welsh and the elder Akiyama exude dignified kindness. On the whole, it’s a top-notch cast.
Eloise at the Plaza is a fun romp for kids, while adults can marvel at the care taken to recreate a beloved children’s book for the screen. The movie may also serve as encouragement for those who, like so many of us, have trouble being as communicative as Eloise. The expressive and the withdrawn alike will have someone with whom to identify here, and those on either end of the spectrum should not find it too difficult to get swept away in the fun of the Plaza Hotel.
Sofia Vassilieva stars as Eloise, the free-spirited blonde girl who lives in the Plaza Hotel with her faithful caretaker Nanny (Julie Andrews). Eloise is a whirling dervish, and Vassilieva keeps her in perpetual motion. It’s exhausting to watch her dash here and there, zooming up and down hallways, incessantly ringing the bell at the front desk, stirring up mischief on the elevator. She has a very short attention span, and it’s never long before she’s off on some new project. As tiring as her movements are, that’s nothing compared to her tongue. The girl can talk a blue streak, and she has no mental filter. “I always say what’s in my head,” she explains early on. “It’s so much easier that way.”
Her strategy is often exasperating to those around her, and her uppity affectations – particularly the way she pronounces “rather,” one of her favorite words – grate a bit. Nonetheless, her frank manner inspires many of those in her acquaintance, and perhaps the strongest theme running through the movie is the trouble that can ensue where open and honest communication is absent.
Molly (Stephanie Mills), a sweet high school senior, is afraid to tell her overbearing, high society mother (Eve Crawford) that she wants to travel instead of going to college and date not an aristocrat but a man who shares her passions. Eloise’s harried French tutor, Philip (Jonas Chernik), is too insecure to let slip that he would like to be that guy. Leon (Kintaro Akiyama), a polite, sheltered nine-year-old who spends a whirlwind day getting a taste of Eloise’s lifestyle, shrinks from confessing to his distant father (Dennis Akiyama), recently widowed, that he wants to leave boarding school and return home. Uptight hotel manager Mr. Salomone (Jeffrey Tambor) is so focused on vainly trying to keep Eloise unaware of the big event and the special guest that have the hotel in an uproar that he can scarcely make the preparations. And Eloise’s own beloved Nanny is too timid to tell the distinguished Sir Wilkes (Kenneth Welsh), another longtime guest, how much she likes him.
Eloise simply can’t fathom this lack of forthrightness, but she hopes to make up for it with a little finagling. She may be a bit of a hooligan at times, but she has a generous heart, and one of her passions is “fixing things that are broken.” In this movie, things get more broken before they get fixed, and there should be slapstick enough to satisfy the youngest viewers, who will likely find the thought of having free reign to wander through a posh hotel quite appealing. Adding to the confusion are Eloise’s pug and turtle, who have a knack for turning up at inopportune moments. While the chaos is a bit much at times, quiet scenes bring balance; the heart-to-heart between Eloise and the pensive Leon as they share a carriage ride through Central Park is simply lovely.
The movie, directed by Kevin Lima, makes liberal use of Hilary Knight’s illustrations, both incorporating them into the film and meticulously recreating them in live-action form. I highly recommend the making-of documentary in the special features, especially if you have little familiarity with the books. It’s fascinating to see the close kinship between the two art forms, and it made me appreciate the movie all the more. The plaza is a gorgeous piece of architecture, full of splendor and a touch of whimsy, and our glimpse of New York City at large is magical.
While I confess Vassilieva wears on me a bit, she has the perfect energy for the role, and there’s an undeniable charm to her as well. Still, it’s the much quieter Akiyama who really wins me over. I was surprised to see that this was his second and final film role; for me, he is the heart of the movie. It’s also a treat to see Andrews portraying what she describes in the documentary as “the anti-Mary Poppins.” That isn’t to say that she’s incompetent; she’s just about the only person who has any control over Eloise at all. But she is frazzled and unkempt, with a lowbrow accent and a fondness for boxing and booze. She is certainly not “practically perfect in every way,” but she is practically perfect for her young charge. Tambor is hilariously overwrought, Daniels and Chernik are adorable together and Welsh and the elder Akiyama exude dignified kindness. On the whole, it’s a top-notch cast.
Eloise at the Plaza is a fun romp for kids, while adults can marvel at the care taken to recreate a beloved children’s book for the screen. The movie may also serve as encouragement for those who, like so many of us, have trouble being as communicative as Eloise. The expressive and the withdrawn alike will have someone with whom to identify here, and those on either end of the spectrum should not find it too difficult to get swept away in the fun of the Plaza Hotel.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Steve Carell Makes a Lovable Villain in the Sweet and Funny Despicable Me
Last year, I saw a lot of previews for Despicable Me, as well as a
lot of commercials making use of the little yellow minions who populate
the movie. I was so taken with these odd critters that I got my picture
taken with them in the display at my local theater. Somehow, though, I
didn’t see the movie until this week. I’m glad I finally got around to
it.
I’m generally a fan of Steve Carell, whose career has consisted largely of him playing roles in which he is some sort of lovable loser. That’s the case here as well, but this time, he’s a super-villain named Gru. He’s certainly got the equipment for it; he has an enormous secret lair under his hazardous home, and he oversees thousands of minions, strange jabbering humanoids who are super-short and resemble yellow pills. He rumbles through town in an enormous metal contraption, and every time someone annoys him, he whips out his freeze ray and makes a popsicle out of him. But as the movie begins, he’s bemoaning the fact that a younger villain has pulled off the amazing feat of stealing the Pyramids, and suddenly all his accomplishments look pretty paltry. He needs to think big in order to compete, and what could be bigger than the moon? Indeed, Gru has been obsessed with the moon his whole life, and his plan to steal it, with some help from a shrink ray, is the culmination of that fixation.
Carell puts on a thick Russian accent for Gru, who is grumpy and anti-social but really not prime super-villain material. His hideous dog steals his food and chomps on his arm without repercussions. He leaves money in the tip jar at the coffee shop. He expresses concern for his minions’ job prospects when he believes that his plan is a bust. And whenever he’s in the presence, even by phone, of his severe mother, voiced by Julie Andrews, all of his boyhood vulnerabilities and disappointments come rushing back to him. He desperately wants her validation.
When Vector (Jason Segel), the twerpy, tracksuit-wearing villain who pulled off the Pyramid heist, gets ahold of the shrink ray Gru needs, he realizes that it’s going to take some fancy maneuvering to retrieve it. How can he get inside that fortress? Enter clever, cynical Margo (Miranda Cosgrove), mischievous, disaster-prone Edith (Dana Gaier) and adorable, affectionate Agnes (Elsie Fisher). These three orphan sisters live in a home run by sugary-sweet but sadistic Southerner Miss Hattie (Kristen Wiig), who is eerily reminiscent of Dolores Umbridge, one of the most bone-chilling villains in the Harry Potter universe. She forces them to spend their days peddling cookies, and Vector has a sweet tooth, so Gru decides these girls are his ticket to the access he needs. He adopts them merely as a means to an end. But then a funny thing happens. He starts to get attached to them…
It was pretty obvious from the previews where this story was leading, but that didn’t make getting there any less fun or endearing. This computer-animated movie is visually attractive and filled with sight gags, particularly whenever the minions are on screen. These little guys all look pretty similar, yet each one has a distinct feature or two, and they’re always squabbling or goofing around or creating something in the background, always in the same incomprehensible language. Some of the movie’s most laugh-aloud moments involve them. Gru, meanwhile, is a terrific character, too easy to sympathize with to be repulsive. Each of the girls, so thrilled to have a home at last, reacts to him differently. Agnes adores him instantly, while Edith delights in defying him and Margo is afraid to get too close to him. His interactions with the girls are hilarious but often strangely sweet.
I rented this from Netflix, and I had a strange experience I’d never encountered before. I couldn’t play the bonus features. Instead, a message filled the screen, informing me that I would need to buy the DVD in order to watch the extra features. Is that unique to this movie, I wonder, or will this soon be a commonplace practice? I don’t tend to be that interested in bonus features beyond deleted scenes, but I still found it disappointing. However, the movie itself was every bit as entertaining as I’d hoped it would be. As touching as it is funny, Despicable Me isn’t despicable at all.
I’m generally a fan of Steve Carell, whose career has consisted largely of him playing roles in which he is some sort of lovable loser. That’s the case here as well, but this time, he’s a super-villain named Gru. He’s certainly got the equipment for it; he has an enormous secret lair under his hazardous home, and he oversees thousands of minions, strange jabbering humanoids who are super-short and resemble yellow pills. He rumbles through town in an enormous metal contraption, and every time someone annoys him, he whips out his freeze ray and makes a popsicle out of him. But as the movie begins, he’s bemoaning the fact that a younger villain has pulled off the amazing feat of stealing the Pyramids, and suddenly all his accomplishments look pretty paltry. He needs to think big in order to compete, and what could be bigger than the moon? Indeed, Gru has been obsessed with the moon his whole life, and his plan to steal it, with some help from a shrink ray, is the culmination of that fixation.
Carell puts on a thick Russian accent for Gru, who is grumpy and anti-social but really not prime super-villain material. His hideous dog steals his food and chomps on his arm without repercussions. He leaves money in the tip jar at the coffee shop. He expresses concern for his minions’ job prospects when he believes that his plan is a bust. And whenever he’s in the presence, even by phone, of his severe mother, voiced by Julie Andrews, all of his boyhood vulnerabilities and disappointments come rushing back to him. He desperately wants her validation.
When Vector (Jason Segel), the twerpy, tracksuit-wearing villain who pulled off the Pyramid heist, gets ahold of the shrink ray Gru needs, he realizes that it’s going to take some fancy maneuvering to retrieve it. How can he get inside that fortress? Enter clever, cynical Margo (Miranda Cosgrove), mischievous, disaster-prone Edith (Dana Gaier) and adorable, affectionate Agnes (Elsie Fisher). These three orphan sisters live in a home run by sugary-sweet but sadistic Southerner Miss Hattie (Kristen Wiig), who is eerily reminiscent of Dolores Umbridge, one of the most bone-chilling villains in the Harry Potter universe. She forces them to spend their days peddling cookies, and Vector has a sweet tooth, so Gru decides these girls are his ticket to the access he needs. He adopts them merely as a means to an end. But then a funny thing happens. He starts to get attached to them…
It was pretty obvious from the previews where this story was leading, but that didn’t make getting there any less fun or endearing. This computer-animated movie is visually attractive and filled with sight gags, particularly whenever the minions are on screen. These little guys all look pretty similar, yet each one has a distinct feature or two, and they’re always squabbling or goofing around or creating something in the background, always in the same incomprehensible language. Some of the movie’s most laugh-aloud moments involve them. Gru, meanwhile, is a terrific character, too easy to sympathize with to be repulsive. Each of the girls, so thrilled to have a home at last, reacts to him differently. Agnes adores him instantly, while Edith delights in defying him and Margo is afraid to get too close to him. His interactions with the girls are hilarious but often strangely sweet.
I rented this from Netflix, and I had a strange experience I’d never encountered before. I couldn’t play the bonus features. Instead, a message filled the screen, informing me that I would need to buy the DVD in order to watch the extra features. Is that unique to this movie, I wonder, or will this soon be a commonplace practice? I don’t tend to be that interested in bonus features beyond deleted scenes, but I still found it disappointing. However, the movie itself was every bit as entertaining as I’d hoped it would be. As touching as it is funny, Despicable Me isn’t despicable at all.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
It's a Jolly Holiday With Mary; No Wonder That It's Mary That We Love!
Last week, my friend Libbie and I set off around her neighborhood in
search of treasure at her block sale. The day was overcast, and there
seemed to be only a small smattering of houses participating, so we
weren't sure how much luck we would have. Imagine our surprise, then,
when one of the first houses we visited had several Mattel dolls for
sale, each in its original packaging and selling for five dollars. I'm
not a big Barbie fan, but I spotted one that appealed to me; Barbie
looked much more youthful than usual, wearing a pale pink dress with a
white overskirt featuring illustrations from one of my favorite
childhood books. Then Libbie turned my attention to Mary Poppins,
and I gave a squeal of delight, for that sweet-as-sugar but no-nonsense
nanny has always been one of my very favorite characters. Even better,
this was not merely Barbie dressed as Mary; one look at the face made it
clear that Julie Andrews was the model for this particular doll. I knew
I had to snag it.
This Disney Collector Doll is the Jolly Holiday Edition, which suggested to me that there was another edition, perhaps Mary in her black suit and hat with her handbag. This doll came out in 1999; I see that Mattel released one in more conservative attire in 1993, though it included a Jolly Holiday outfit and the face looked more like Barbie than Andrews. My mom tells me she had a Mary doll when she was growing up, and it was Mary as she appeared at the beginning of the film, but unfortunately, that was one of those childhood toys that fell out of her possession before I came along. Certainly Mattel is not the only company to have used this movie as inspiration, but this Jolly Holiday Edition Mary may just be the nicest option out there for fans of the classic Disney musical.
I debated before deciding to take Mary out of her packaging. After all, it's very attractive, with a backdrop of the ornate carousel she rides in the chalk drawing, with views of the lush, tree-laden park on either side. The backdrop is removable from the box, and it can fold out to be a bit larger if you remove the tape on the back. Mary is tethered down with many strings and plastic twist-ties, so getting her completely loose from her packaging took me quite a while, but as long as you're careful, you'll still have a decent-looking backdrop when you're done. The box itself is also very nice. Most of the front portion is transparent, with red curtains on the top and bottom. This design continues on the sides and the back, which features two pictures of Mary and Bert as well as a description of the doll and its context in the movie. I have no plans to sell Mary, but I intend to keep the box and leave the certificate of authenticity inside.
On the front of the box is a note that says "For the adult collector over 14 years." In other words, this doll is more of a display piece than a toy. Mary comes with a doll stand, the base of which reads, in fancy curlicued letters, "Jolly Holiday Mary Poppins". Articulation is limited, but her legs, arms and head are moveable in a variety of directions. Mary's dress is the pinnacle of frothy summery beauty. Her dress is white with a white gauze overlay garnished with red bows. Connecting the top and bottom portion of the dress is a red section with white stripes. Mary also wears lacy half-gloves, and though the main fabric in her upper dress is sleeveless, her arms and neck are covered in the gauzy material.
On her head is a plastic hat that is transparent with white trim and three pink cloth roses on the brim. This is attached with a sort of red collar with white stripes and a large gauzy bow. Under her dress is a frilly pink petticoat that matches her pink shoes, over which she wears high white socks. Her dress closes with Velcro at the back. Her brown hair is pulled into a neat bun, her lash-enhanced eyes are a sparkling blue, and her mouth forms a contented grin, with red lipstick and dazzling white teeth in stark contrast. Finally, attached to her left hand is her pink and white parasol, which is closed and which has her parrot on the end. As in the movie, the parrot can open and close its mouth. Mary rests comfortably on the doll stand, though I have a difficult time getting her to stand up entirely straight. She has a tendency to lean forward, but she doesn't seem in any danger of toppling.
If Mattel had wanted to go all out, this doll could have included a couple of other props; I would've especially enjoyed the penguins that serve as her waiters in one of the movie's funniest scenes. Also, a later edition of this doll evidently has a musical stand; I assume it winds up at the bottom, and probably plays Jolly Holiday. That would be a really neat feature. Of course, if you choose not to take your doll out of the case, it won't be of much use. The other thing that I discovered is that Mattel released a Bert doll that looks equally charming. I love Bert just as much as Mary, and it would be really neat to have both of them, especially since I happen to know that my parents once performed a series of musical numbers from the film dressed as Mary and Bert in their Jolly Holiday attire. I doubt I'll be lucky enough to stumble upon Bert at another yard sale, but I might have to keep my eye on eBay for a killer deal. Meanwhile, I'm happy to display the one I have and cheerfully declare that it's a jolly holiday with Mary!
This Disney Collector Doll is the Jolly Holiday Edition, which suggested to me that there was another edition, perhaps Mary in her black suit and hat with her handbag. This doll came out in 1999; I see that Mattel released one in more conservative attire in 1993, though it included a Jolly Holiday outfit and the face looked more like Barbie than Andrews. My mom tells me she had a Mary doll when she was growing up, and it was Mary as she appeared at the beginning of the film, but unfortunately, that was one of those childhood toys that fell out of her possession before I came along. Certainly Mattel is not the only company to have used this movie as inspiration, but this Jolly Holiday Edition Mary may just be the nicest option out there for fans of the classic Disney musical.
I debated before deciding to take Mary out of her packaging. After all, it's very attractive, with a backdrop of the ornate carousel she rides in the chalk drawing, with views of the lush, tree-laden park on either side. The backdrop is removable from the box, and it can fold out to be a bit larger if you remove the tape on the back. Mary is tethered down with many strings and plastic twist-ties, so getting her completely loose from her packaging took me quite a while, but as long as you're careful, you'll still have a decent-looking backdrop when you're done. The box itself is also very nice. Most of the front portion is transparent, with red curtains on the top and bottom. This design continues on the sides and the back, which features two pictures of Mary and Bert as well as a description of the doll and its context in the movie. I have no plans to sell Mary, but I intend to keep the box and leave the certificate of authenticity inside.
On the front of the box is a note that says "For the adult collector over 14 years." In other words, this doll is more of a display piece than a toy. Mary comes with a doll stand, the base of which reads, in fancy curlicued letters, "Jolly Holiday Mary Poppins". Articulation is limited, but her legs, arms and head are moveable in a variety of directions. Mary's dress is the pinnacle of frothy summery beauty. Her dress is white with a white gauze overlay garnished with red bows. Connecting the top and bottom portion of the dress is a red section with white stripes. Mary also wears lacy half-gloves, and though the main fabric in her upper dress is sleeveless, her arms and neck are covered in the gauzy material.
On her head is a plastic hat that is transparent with white trim and three pink cloth roses on the brim. This is attached with a sort of red collar with white stripes and a large gauzy bow. Under her dress is a frilly pink petticoat that matches her pink shoes, over which she wears high white socks. Her dress closes with Velcro at the back. Her brown hair is pulled into a neat bun, her lash-enhanced eyes are a sparkling blue, and her mouth forms a contented grin, with red lipstick and dazzling white teeth in stark contrast. Finally, attached to her left hand is her pink and white parasol, which is closed and which has her parrot on the end. As in the movie, the parrot can open and close its mouth. Mary rests comfortably on the doll stand, though I have a difficult time getting her to stand up entirely straight. She has a tendency to lean forward, but she doesn't seem in any danger of toppling.
If Mattel had wanted to go all out, this doll could have included a couple of other props; I would've especially enjoyed the penguins that serve as her waiters in one of the movie's funniest scenes. Also, a later edition of this doll evidently has a musical stand; I assume it winds up at the bottom, and probably plays Jolly Holiday. That would be a really neat feature. Of course, if you choose not to take your doll out of the case, it won't be of much use. The other thing that I discovered is that Mattel released a Bert doll that looks equally charming. I love Bert just as much as Mary, and it would be really neat to have both of them, especially since I happen to know that my parents once performed a series of musical numbers from the film dressed as Mary and Bert in their Jolly Holiday attire. I doubt I'll be lucky enough to stumble upon Bert at another yard sale, but I might have to keep my eye on eBay for a killer deal. Meanwhile, I'm happy to display the one I have and cheerfully declare that it's a jolly holiday with Mary!
Monday, June 23, 2008
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!
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!
Thursday, February 12, 2004
For My 500th Review, Here is One of My Favorite Things
Climb ev’ry mountain, ford ev’ry stream… The Mother Abbess’
inspiring words ring in my ears as I compose this, my 500th review for
Epinions. Actually, I guess I technically hit that mark a few reviews
back, since I’ve deleted a couple of really bad ones and written a
couple on products I later realized were no longer in production. But
for the sake of ceremony, I’ll look on this as the culmination of a
journey, and a vantage point from which to view my next course. What
better day to celebrate than my 23rd birthday, and what better way than
by reviewing my favorite musical – and a top contender for favorite
movie – of all time?
The Sound of Music is one of those movies whose appearance in my life I cannot trace. It’s been there further back than I can remember. I still recall listening to the soundtrack on vinyl when I was a toddler and opening my mom’s Swiss Chalet jewelry box every time I entered the room to hear the tinkly strains of The Lonely Goatherd. Several years later, I read Maria’s autobiography, of which the events of this movie were only a small part, and watched awestruck and a wee bit jealous as my fellow students at Mercyhurst Preparatory School performed the play to perfection. Last year, I attended a Sound of Music Sing-Along dressed in Maria style, belting out all those old familiar favorites and enduring the wisecracks of the woman seated behind us in response to what was happening on the screen. I love musicals, period. But none quite as much as I love this one.
The story is a familiar one to most, the image of Maria running across the hills with outstretched arms an allusion that has made its way into films as diverse as The Pink Panther Strikes Again and The Sixth Sense. Julie Andrews brings an irrepressible spirit, an unmatchable joie de vivre, to this character who is both very similar to and very different from her title role in Mary Poppins, another of my favorite films. Like Mary, she comes into a home where good-hearted children are behaving destructively due to a dysfunctional relationship with their father. Like Mary, she uses her creative energies to win the children’s affections and helps them to bridge the gap that has grown between them and their father. While Maria has as much spunk as Miss Poppins, it gets her into trouble sometimes. In spite of her attempts to psyche herself up to the point of jubilantly declaring I Have Confidence, she lacks Mary’s cool self-assuredness. In spite of her general cheery demeanor, she is, by turns, unnerved, ashamed, apologetic, flustered… She displays all the extremes of passion that Mary so carefully keeps in check, and we love her all the more for it. She also lacks Mary’s vanity and self-interest. Maria is never hot on herself, and she couldn’t care less about wearing a dress so ugly it couldn’t even be given away to the poor. As an earnest nun in training, her first thought is usually a desire to do what God intends her to do. While I love Andrews in both films, Maria easily wins as my favorite character. In fact, she is my favorite female character in all of cinema, the one I most identify with and aspire to.
Christopher Plummer provides a perfect complement to this character in his portrayal of Captain Georg Von Trapp, a man who uses sternness as a salve for wounds he wishes to forget. In spite of his icy presence towards the beginning of the film, it is easy to see that he has a latent warmth that only needs a catalyst to melt the barriers he’s placed between himself and his children. His dry wit is an especially enjoyable aspect of his character, especially in scenes where it counterbalances Maria’s more clumsy passion. When the chemistry of this initial rivalry yields itself to affection, Plummer brings heart-breaking tenderness to the role. The depth of emotion conveyed through his eyes is remarkable, particularly in that climactic moment just before he declares his love for his young governess.
Everyone in the cast does a fine job. Peggy Wood’s Mother Abbess is wise and matronly, the gentlest and most authoritative figure in the film. Capping a successful film career, Eleanor Parker brings just the right degree of cold elegance to the Baroness, a rather villainous but not entirely unsympathetic figure. Much more likable is Richard Haydn as Max Detweiler, a shrewd businessman and close friend of the Captain whose fun-loving personality makes him a favorite of the Von Trapp children. His comedic delivery provides a nice contrast to the chilly and dull Baroness who appears in most of his scenes. The seven children, Charmian Carr (Liesl), Heather Menzies (Louisa), Nicholas Hammond (Friedrich), Duane Chase (Kurt), Angela Cartwright (Brigitta), Debbie Turner (Marta), and Kym Karath (Gretl), work wonderfully together, bringing a mixture of mischief and sweetness to Maria’s charges.
A large part of Sound of Music’s enduring popularity is, of course, the music. This is Rodgers and Hammerstein’s crowning achievement, and there’s not a song here I find tedious or unnecessary. From the exuberant title song and the educational Do Re Mi to the heartening My Favorite Things and the clever So Long, Farewell, the songs in this film are among the most beloved in cinematic history. And Eidelweiss, the last song Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote together, has such a level of authenticity about it that most people believe it actually is an Austrian folk song predating the events of the movie.
At its core, Sound of Music is a film about love. Last year, my favorite local radio station asked listeners to call in with their favorite romantic movie of all time, and I told my brother, much to his disgust, that Sound of Music got my vote. The gradual development of Maria and Captain Von Trapp’s mutual affection, standing in contrast to the puppy love of Liesl and Rowlf and the Captain’s chilly engagement to the socially compatible Baroness, is thoroughly satisfying. The Captain’s uncharacteristic stumbling as he tries to verbalize his feelings to Maria is most endearing, and the moment she realizes beyond a shadow of a doubt that her love is not one-sided is always a thrill.
But entwined with this are many other types of love. The love of life, which Maria embodies. Of music, which she passes on to the children and which, in real life, led to the formation of a successful family act, whose fame allowed Maria to publish the autobiography which inspired the musical. (The real departure from Austria was far less dramatic, incidentally; after refusing a couple invitations from Hitler to sing for him, the family thought it wise to leave the country.) Of nature, to which the film’s sweeping cinematography alludes. Of family, which Maria helps the Captain to reclaim. He falls in love with her largely through her love of his children. Of God, which is so strong in Maria that she wants to spend her life as a nun. But her faith allows perceive that she can do God’s will outside of the cloistered Abbey walls, and that God will protect her family as they flee from peril. And, of course, love of country, which moves from subplot into the foreground after the wedding, which would seem a logical stopping place. But the rumors and whispers overshadowed by the romance find culmination in the film’s final scenes, and all the other threads come together to help our protagonists combat the evil that confronts them.
There are few movies with the enduring power of Sound of Music. It’s a film everyone ought to see at some time or another. I’ve seen it many times, and I can only go so long before the urge strikes me to watch it yet again; I think I’m coming up on that time now. Watch it and treasure it. I dare you to be unmoved.
The Sound of Music is one of those movies whose appearance in my life I cannot trace. It’s been there further back than I can remember. I still recall listening to the soundtrack on vinyl when I was a toddler and opening my mom’s Swiss Chalet jewelry box every time I entered the room to hear the tinkly strains of The Lonely Goatherd. Several years later, I read Maria’s autobiography, of which the events of this movie were only a small part, and watched awestruck and a wee bit jealous as my fellow students at Mercyhurst Preparatory School performed the play to perfection. Last year, I attended a Sound of Music Sing-Along dressed in Maria style, belting out all those old familiar favorites and enduring the wisecracks of the woman seated behind us in response to what was happening on the screen. I love musicals, period. But none quite as much as I love this one.
The story is a familiar one to most, the image of Maria running across the hills with outstretched arms an allusion that has made its way into films as diverse as The Pink Panther Strikes Again and The Sixth Sense. Julie Andrews brings an irrepressible spirit, an unmatchable joie de vivre, to this character who is both very similar to and very different from her title role in Mary Poppins, another of my favorite films. Like Mary, she comes into a home where good-hearted children are behaving destructively due to a dysfunctional relationship with their father. Like Mary, she uses her creative energies to win the children’s affections and helps them to bridge the gap that has grown between them and their father. While Maria has as much spunk as Miss Poppins, it gets her into trouble sometimes. In spite of her attempts to psyche herself up to the point of jubilantly declaring I Have Confidence, she lacks Mary’s cool self-assuredness. In spite of her general cheery demeanor, she is, by turns, unnerved, ashamed, apologetic, flustered… She displays all the extremes of passion that Mary so carefully keeps in check, and we love her all the more for it. She also lacks Mary’s vanity and self-interest. Maria is never hot on herself, and she couldn’t care less about wearing a dress so ugly it couldn’t even be given away to the poor. As an earnest nun in training, her first thought is usually a desire to do what God intends her to do. While I love Andrews in both films, Maria easily wins as my favorite character. In fact, she is my favorite female character in all of cinema, the one I most identify with and aspire to.
Christopher Plummer provides a perfect complement to this character in his portrayal of Captain Georg Von Trapp, a man who uses sternness as a salve for wounds he wishes to forget. In spite of his icy presence towards the beginning of the film, it is easy to see that he has a latent warmth that only needs a catalyst to melt the barriers he’s placed between himself and his children. His dry wit is an especially enjoyable aspect of his character, especially in scenes where it counterbalances Maria’s more clumsy passion. When the chemistry of this initial rivalry yields itself to affection, Plummer brings heart-breaking tenderness to the role. The depth of emotion conveyed through his eyes is remarkable, particularly in that climactic moment just before he declares his love for his young governess.
Everyone in the cast does a fine job. Peggy Wood’s Mother Abbess is wise and matronly, the gentlest and most authoritative figure in the film. Capping a successful film career, Eleanor Parker brings just the right degree of cold elegance to the Baroness, a rather villainous but not entirely unsympathetic figure. Much more likable is Richard Haydn as Max Detweiler, a shrewd businessman and close friend of the Captain whose fun-loving personality makes him a favorite of the Von Trapp children. His comedic delivery provides a nice contrast to the chilly and dull Baroness who appears in most of his scenes. The seven children, Charmian Carr (Liesl), Heather Menzies (Louisa), Nicholas Hammond (Friedrich), Duane Chase (Kurt), Angela Cartwright (Brigitta), Debbie Turner (Marta), and Kym Karath (Gretl), work wonderfully together, bringing a mixture of mischief and sweetness to Maria’s charges.
A large part of Sound of Music’s enduring popularity is, of course, the music. This is Rodgers and Hammerstein’s crowning achievement, and there’s not a song here I find tedious or unnecessary. From the exuberant title song and the educational Do Re Mi to the heartening My Favorite Things and the clever So Long, Farewell, the songs in this film are among the most beloved in cinematic history. And Eidelweiss, the last song Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote together, has such a level of authenticity about it that most people believe it actually is an Austrian folk song predating the events of the movie.
At its core, Sound of Music is a film about love. Last year, my favorite local radio station asked listeners to call in with their favorite romantic movie of all time, and I told my brother, much to his disgust, that Sound of Music got my vote. The gradual development of Maria and Captain Von Trapp’s mutual affection, standing in contrast to the puppy love of Liesl and Rowlf and the Captain’s chilly engagement to the socially compatible Baroness, is thoroughly satisfying. The Captain’s uncharacteristic stumbling as he tries to verbalize his feelings to Maria is most endearing, and the moment she realizes beyond a shadow of a doubt that her love is not one-sided is always a thrill.
But entwined with this are many other types of love. The love of life, which Maria embodies. Of music, which she passes on to the children and which, in real life, led to the formation of a successful family act, whose fame allowed Maria to publish the autobiography which inspired the musical. (The real departure from Austria was far less dramatic, incidentally; after refusing a couple invitations from Hitler to sing for him, the family thought it wise to leave the country.) Of nature, to which the film’s sweeping cinematography alludes. Of family, which Maria helps the Captain to reclaim. He falls in love with her largely through her love of his children. Of God, which is so strong in Maria that she wants to spend her life as a nun. But her faith allows perceive that she can do God’s will outside of the cloistered Abbey walls, and that God will protect her family as they flee from peril. And, of course, love of country, which moves from subplot into the foreground after the wedding, which would seem a logical stopping place. But the rumors and whispers overshadowed by the romance find culmination in the film’s final scenes, and all the other threads come together to help our protagonists combat the evil that confronts them.
There are few movies with the enduring power of Sound of Music. It’s a film everyone ought to see at some time or another. I’ve seen it many times, and I can only go so long before the urge strikes me to watch it yet again; I think I’m coming up on that time now. Watch it and treasure it. I dare you to be unmoved.
Monday, February 11, 2002
"You Saw Me When I Was Invisible."
Last Saturday, I went to the dollar theater and saw Joe Somebody,
a less-than-mediocre movie about an average guy who nobody noticed
suddenly becoming a somebody in the eyes of his colleagues. That
evening, I watched The Princess Diaries, which we had rented a
couple days earlier. This movie followed the same basic plot: nobody
becomes somebody. However, I thoroughly enjoyed this film while I had
little good to say about Joe Somebody.
The Princess Diaries centers around 15-year-old Mia Thermopolis (Anne Hathaway), a young woman completely devoid of grace and glamour. She hides behind a thick bush of frizz and a pair of glasses and is a first-class klutz. The popular kids only take note of her occasionally in order to make fun of her. Her life revolves around her best friend, the defiantly nerdy Lilly Moscovitz (Heather Matarazzo), and her cat Fat Louie, who lives like a king in her bedroom above her mom?s art studio in an abandoned firehouse in San Francisco. She is perhaps the least likely candidate for queendom imaginable, so when her grandmother Queen Clarice Renaldi (Julie Andrews), who is basically a stranger to her, shows up unexpectedly to tell her of her claim to the Genovian throne, Mia is flabbergasted. Her appalled reaction is not exactly what the stately queen had been hoping for.
Clarice explains that Mia's long-absent father was the prince of Genovia. Because of his untimely death, Mia is obligated to accept the role of princess or pass the rule on to a pair of stuffy aristocrats who are next in line. (These two are delightfully despicable and bear a strong resemblance in my mind to the Sackville-Bagginses, the couple in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings determined to inherit Bag End.) After much coercing, Mia agrees to consider the proposal, and she begins her training in courtly manners at the Genovian embassy. She also gets a personal chauffeur, the delightful Joseph (Hector Elizondo), the queen's head of security. Joseph's dry wit provides many laughs, and his empathy keeps Clarice from allowing her role as queen to overshadow her role as grandmother.
The scenes in which Mia attempts to transform herself into a princess are among the most amusing in the movie. I can certainly identify with her awkwardness, and I can only imagine what a disaster I would be as an aristocrat. One thing I can't identify with is the cruelty of Mia's classmates. Characters like Lana (Mandy Moore), the vicious cheerleader who makes Mia's school life miserable, are a teen movie staple, but I can't help but wonder if that sort of behavior really happens. I mean, I'm the biggest nerd around and it never happened to me, at least not to that degree and not in high school. At any rate, the distinction between popular and unpopular is very important in this movie and plays heavily into Mia's ultimate decision concerning her future.
Mia, just like Joe in the aforementioned Joe Somebody, finds herself suddenly surrounded by people who seem to be dying to associate with her. Her sudden popularity thrusts her into confusion, and her eagerness to be one of the cool kids causes her to slight her true friends, including Lilly's adorable brother, Michael (Robert Schwartzman), who is obviously hopelessly smitten with her. With the date fast approaching when she must formally announce whether she will accept the Genovian crown, Mia faces a difficult decision that will drastically affect her entire future.
I wanted to see The Princess Diaries when it was in the theater. I'm a sucker for Disney, and although I have found some of their recent live action films to be a bit lacking, this looked like a winner. For one thing, how often do you see a live action G-rated movie these days? It?s an extreme rarity, which is a shame for someone who almost always prefers G and PG films to PG-13 and R films. So the rating in itself intrigued me. And of course, there is Julie Andrews. The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins are both high on my list of favorite movies, so Julie Andrews is certainly likely to lure me into seeing a movie. Finally, I saw a lot of myself in Mia, and what girl doesn't want to imagine that someone like herself could become a princess?
The movie won me over completely. The plot might not be very original. I already compared it to Joe Somebody, and more specifically in follows in a long line of teen movies about awkward girls coming into their own, risking the loss of their true friends along the way. In this movie, however, we didn't have to deal with the crudeness and foul language that populates most teen flicks. Instead, what we got was a fairy tale film complete with charming characters and a touch of foot-popping romance. I have not read the book, so I cannot comment on the differences. Perhaps my opinion of the movie would be altered had I read the book first. But I find it hard to believe that knowledge of the book would lessen my enjoyment of the film. This is first-rate Disney fare, and I give The Princess Diaries my hearty recommendation.
The Princess Diaries centers around 15-year-old Mia Thermopolis (Anne Hathaway), a young woman completely devoid of grace and glamour. She hides behind a thick bush of frizz and a pair of glasses and is a first-class klutz. The popular kids only take note of her occasionally in order to make fun of her. Her life revolves around her best friend, the defiantly nerdy Lilly Moscovitz (Heather Matarazzo), and her cat Fat Louie, who lives like a king in her bedroom above her mom?s art studio in an abandoned firehouse in San Francisco. She is perhaps the least likely candidate for queendom imaginable, so when her grandmother Queen Clarice Renaldi (Julie Andrews), who is basically a stranger to her, shows up unexpectedly to tell her of her claim to the Genovian throne, Mia is flabbergasted. Her appalled reaction is not exactly what the stately queen had been hoping for.
Clarice explains that Mia's long-absent father was the prince of Genovia. Because of his untimely death, Mia is obligated to accept the role of princess or pass the rule on to a pair of stuffy aristocrats who are next in line. (These two are delightfully despicable and bear a strong resemblance in my mind to the Sackville-Bagginses, the couple in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings determined to inherit Bag End.) After much coercing, Mia agrees to consider the proposal, and she begins her training in courtly manners at the Genovian embassy. She also gets a personal chauffeur, the delightful Joseph (Hector Elizondo), the queen's head of security. Joseph's dry wit provides many laughs, and his empathy keeps Clarice from allowing her role as queen to overshadow her role as grandmother.
The scenes in which Mia attempts to transform herself into a princess are among the most amusing in the movie. I can certainly identify with her awkwardness, and I can only imagine what a disaster I would be as an aristocrat. One thing I can't identify with is the cruelty of Mia's classmates. Characters like Lana (Mandy Moore), the vicious cheerleader who makes Mia's school life miserable, are a teen movie staple, but I can't help but wonder if that sort of behavior really happens. I mean, I'm the biggest nerd around and it never happened to me, at least not to that degree and not in high school. At any rate, the distinction between popular and unpopular is very important in this movie and plays heavily into Mia's ultimate decision concerning her future.
Mia, just like Joe in the aforementioned Joe Somebody, finds herself suddenly surrounded by people who seem to be dying to associate with her. Her sudden popularity thrusts her into confusion, and her eagerness to be one of the cool kids causes her to slight her true friends, including Lilly's adorable brother, Michael (Robert Schwartzman), who is obviously hopelessly smitten with her. With the date fast approaching when she must formally announce whether she will accept the Genovian crown, Mia faces a difficult decision that will drastically affect her entire future.
I wanted to see The Princess Diaries when it was in the theater. I'm a sucker for Disney, and although I have found some of their recent live action films to be a bit lacking, this looked like a winner. For one thing, how often do you see a live action G-rated movie these days? It?s an extreme rarity, which is a shame for someone who almost always prefers G and PG films to PG-13 and R films. So the rating in itself intrigued me. And of course, there is Julie Andrews. The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins are both high on my list of favorite movies, so Julie Andrews is certainly likely to lure me into seeing a movie. Finally, I saw a lot of myself in Mia, and what girl doesn't want to imagine that someone like herself could become a princess?
The movie won me over completely. The plot might not be very original. I already compared it to Joe Somebody, and more specifically in follows in a long line of teen movies about awkward girls coming into their own, risking the loss of their true friends along the way. In this movie, however, we didn't have to deal with the crudeness and foul language that populates most teen flicks. Instead, what we got was a fairy tale film complete with charming characters and a touch of foot-popping romance. I have not read the book, so I cannot comment on the differences. Perhaps my opinion of the movie would be altered had I read the book first. But I find it hard to believe that knowledge of the book would lessen my enjoyment of the film. This is first-rate Disney fare, and I give The Princess Diaries my hearty recommendation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)