The twins and I went to see Mary Poppins Returns. It was splendid. The producers remained true to the original while inserting fresh songs and creative animation. The next day we decided to also watch the film Saving Mr. Banks, which is about the creation of the first movie. 

 

It opened with a little girl who captured my heart with her shy smile. She had curly red hair and enough innocence to have me believe that goodness is here to stay. She had an endearing relationship with her imaginative father. We gradually realized that his life was unraveling because of alcohol. While he adored his daughter, his first allegiance was to drink. The scenes of their family in Australia pivoted with a flat in England, where we met the author of Mary Poppins who was as cross as is it possible to be. Every few minutes my girls and I looked at each other aghast by P.L. Travers's most recent acerbic response. She was in verbal combat with Walt Disney who very much wanted the rights to turn her book into a film. He was patient. Compromising. Ms. Travers was supremely self absorbed, contemptuous, and uncooperative. Disney left her a basket of fruit. She hurled the pears into the swimming pool. He invited her on a VIP visit to Disneyland. She treated his Magic Kingdom with disdain. Song after song, scene after scene she shredded with her criticism. She resolutely forbade Walt to include the animation of the penguins. I wasn't even the target of her poisoned arrows but an hour into the movie I asked the girls if we should even finish it. I couldn't bear her sarcasm a minute longer.  

 

"I don't see how this can possibly end well." I was fed up. 

 

"Well, we know they make the movie in the end."

 

It became clear that the curly haired girl was P.L. Travers. As a child she was ripped between believing in her father and facing his alcoholism. She was the victim of a family that was crashing around her, and the aunt who appeared as a last hope for their survival was the no nonsense inspiration for Mary Poppins.  As her father was close to death he asked his daughter for pears, which she ran to buy. When she brought them, he was dead. 

 

In the end, Disney was able to help Pamela let go of her past just enough to allow him to make the movie. And in doing so, she began to heal. What moves me is that while I was ready to bail on her after an hour, in the end her actions actually made sense. Of course she would throw the fruit that fell at her dead father's feet over the banister. I see why she was so afraid of animation, and joy. Her own imagination had left her bereft. 

 

One of the last conversations I had with my father in law was brief. He came to our house with a message. 

 

"It's all good."

 

I waited for the punchline. Perhaps that was it. 

 

"Everything God does is for our happiness. Even the parts that look terrible." 

 

Then he and his wife of sixty years drove away. His words have lingered with me, suggesting that even outrageous behaviors might have their causes. Antecedents that happened before I was paying attention. 

 

I have yet to witness someone chuck a pear into a body of water, or bristle at the possibility of dancing penguins. But there are other responses that leave me perplexed. Maybe if I don't bail too soon, there will be compassion enough to save us all.