I can guarantee this will contain SPOILERS, but then again, you already know the ending if you realize the movie Mary Poppins exists.
Saving Mr. Banks is the latest in a long line of emotionally manipulative, yet highly enjoyable, dramas about (supposedly) true events where everyone learns a lesson and lives happily ever after. You would expect no less from a Disney film, correct? If you let yourself get taken by its many whimsical charms, then you just might enjoy yourself. If you are at all like me, though, you’ll find that something just doesn’t fit quite right here.
Having been to Walt Disney World more times than I can even count at this point, I should know that the Disney company treats Walt himself as something of a saint. As America’s secular dream-weaver and high priest, Walt Disney emerged from a rather harsh childhood to enter into animation and cartoons against all odds, eventually expanding his empire through the American Dream and the promises of entrepreneurial success. It’s such a great story that even the Disney Parks themselves tell it over and over again, reinforcing this image of a man beyond the common pale. And who else could play a great man than Tom Hanks, right? He plays it just right with the gravitas, patience, and good-hearted nature the film absolutely requires to tug at the heartstrings.
Did the man have faults? Sure! But those must be relegated to books where complex ideas lie, rather than in film or theme park frivolities. As such, Saving Mr. Banks upholds the crafted reputation of Walt Disney as secular saint battering against the hardened exterior of a one P.L. Travers, famous author of Mary Poppins. Emma Thompson plays toughened, world-weary woman well, with a furrowed brow and a biting rhetoric to match. The movie wants you to hate her as a sort of monster for at least a half hour, but it ends up revealing its true color as it bounces between the past and the present. Travers refuses to give up the film rights to her character, feeling that Disney’s song-and-dance frivolity would shame her proper magical housemaid’s stern demeanor. Walt’s charms (and, of course, the revealing of her past and “moving on”) eventually do her in, and she gives up, so to speak.
I’m not the least bit surprised that this well-worn dramatic arc (and trust me, you’ve definitely seen some piece of media that follows the same tropes) actually represents little of the truth of the matter. Travers signed away the rights before she even traveled to Los Angeles (pending approval by her, of course). Walt Disney wasn’t even present for much of the time that she discussed and analyzed the script, so much of their conversations came via telegrams, letters, and other means of correspondence. All of that seems acceptable, given that you wouldn’t have Tom Hanks and Emma Thompson in the same rooms otherwise.
Further, and most important, Travers and the Walt Disney Company did not agree on the dilution of Mary Poppins from novel to screen. Apparently, she was much more of a stern taskmaster, which is demonstrated in the film for about two or three minutes total. Her objections to the animation in the picture were ignored, and the contract she signed gave Walt Disney the final cut, throwing Travers out of the loop. Unsurprisingly, the reformation of her character led to her crying in frustration and anger at the film’s premiere. In fact, Travers refused the Walt Disney Company’s attempts to adapt any more of her works, and her last will even says that no American company, author, or otherwise may add to her legacy. I would call that a bad experience, wouldn’t you? Her negative outlook lessened over time, but that would happen to just about anyone. Thus, as a purely accurate depiction of the events, we can say Saving Mr. Banks decidedly fails to tell the story. In fact, it whitewashes Walt Disney onto his pedestal, as per usual, making him seem calm, kind, and rational versus the capitalist that seems more accurate in this particular case.
Does that make the movie any less enjoyable, though? No, not really! And that’s the weird thing about it: all the underhanded deception that seems to underlie the revisionist history of Saving Mr. Banks fades away once it gets going. It is, for all intents and purposes, a film that goes straight for the emotional jugular while also throwing plenty of PG-rated laughs into the mix. All Disney movies habitually endear themselves to the audience, and seem particularly crafted to recreate the wonders of play and childhood in both younger and older generations alike – this film presents nothing different to that formula. The more cynical me would say that this emotional manipulation continually comes from the House of Mouse all the time, and that I shouldn’t let it work its magic. The more accepting me just enjoys the story for the truth of its themes and ideas rather than the facts of the case. The tale may not be accurate, but it surely presents a good message, all said.
I guess that means any recommendation depends on what you want out of a film, regardless of its vast array of faults and common tropes. The quality of the material often transcends the self-promotional white-knighting of Walt Disney himself, and that kind of investment does not come from bad writing. Emma Thompson grows on you even as she plays one of the most insufferable, unlikable characters that I’ve ever watched, and yet you can’t help but feel bad. Special notice goes out to Colin Farrell (wow, where did that guy go anyway?) as Travers’ father, who does a pretty convincing character portrayal with very little material. The film ends abruptly, which does rob some of the emotional impact of the final moments, but that’s one aspect of a very well-crafted film.
Saving Mr. Banks may just not be for you, and that’s fine, but my detached observations tell me it’s worth a watch if you understand the story as nothing more than a convincing fiction.
