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Saving Saving Mr. Banks

A few years ago, I paid Tommy and Joel 50 cents each to watch Mary Poppins with me. I knew they’d love it. They didn’t know they’d love it. It was the easiest bit of coin they’ve ever made. One viewing and you’re hooked. The songs, the humor, the animation, the story—all click together so effortlessly it’s hard to imagine a time when serious controversy swirled around the beloved classic.

Saving Mr. Banks tells the story of how Mary Poppins finally made it to the big screen. P.L. Travers, played fantastically by Emma Thompson, recoiled at the thought of Mary Poppins in Walt Disney’s hands. She was crisp, cold, formal. He was not. But they needed each other. She was financially strained. He made a promise to his daughter. Somehow, the two giant personalities had to find common ground.

Throughout the film, flashbacks to Travers’ childhood reveal her motivation and inspiration. Her early years were rocked by sorrow and severe shocks. She had to grow up quickly. The inspiration for Mary Poppins was her aunt, who came to help her family in a time of great need. We barely get to know the aunt because Mary, with all her wisdom, with all her magic, with all her firm discipline and love, was never who Travers lost sleep over.

It was her daddy. He’s Mr. Banks. Travers couldn’t hand over her dad to Disney because she hadn’t saved him, in the end. She had to count on a man who she found a bit loathesome to do the job. Travers was afraid of losing him twice, which was more than she could bear.

Tom Hanks plays Walt Disney. I wouldn’t like Walt Disney either if he were like Tom Hanks. I’m not sure why, but he made me squirm—and normally, Hanks can do no wrong. Was it his accent? His mannerisms? Disney comes across like an oily used car salesman. Emma Thompson absolutely outshines Hanks in every way. She was easily my favorite part of the film.

Another bright spot was Colin Farrell as Travers Goff. Yep, P.L. Travers is a pen name, inspired by her dad. I’ve never given Farrell much thought, but he was a revelation to me in Saving Mr. Banks. He captured a creative, loving spirit constrained by responsibility. Travers Goff was a free spirit stifled in a remote Australian town when he should have been the hero slaying dragons in his little daughters’ imaginations. He was a banker—like Mr. Banks.

It was fun to see how Mary Poppins came to life on the big screen through stressful meetings, late-night songwriting sessions, and tiptoeing around their temperamental muse. Travers insisted on recording everything. She had no idea what it gift it would be for future generations of Mary Poppins fans. And if you don’t leave the film humming at least one song from the Sherman brothers score, I’ll eat a carousel horse.

Saving Mr. Banks is an intimate glimpse into the life of a still-mysterious woman. It’s also an interesting peek at Disney studios in their early 1960s glory. The end seemed to tie everything up a bit too neatly, though. It left me with more questions. It’s like those old after school specials that advise you to visit your local library to learn more.

Saving Mr. Banks opens on Friday, December 20, 2013. It’s rated PG-13. Don’t make the mistake of thinking because it’s about Mary Poppins that it’s a children’s film. Alcoholism, suicide, parental death do not make for a jolly holiday with Mary. But they are thoughtfully approached, not gratuitous.

(If you haven’t, read the original Mary Poppins books. They barely resemble the Disney movie, so you can see where Travers hesitated. They are great books.)

The care and feeding of teenaged boys

Sam was miserably sick last week. From head to toe, he looked like a battlefield. Bedraggled hair zagged over his fever-pulsing head. His cheeks were bright red, his eyes watered, his nose wept. Tonsils threatened to explode, muscles from his shoulders to his ankles howled. He coughed, sneezed, and complained of angry stomach pains and crushing fatigue. I noted all this and realized cold washcloths and warm soup weren’t going to be enough to pummel away the assault. I took him to the doctor so we could figure out why he was the human equivalent of a wrung-out dishcloth.

They swabbed his throat and his nose. The nose sample was positive for influenza—The Flu, in capital letters. The throat swab was negative (but later returned positive, so he had The Flu and strep throat at the same time).

While waiting for results, I heard the doctor outside the exam room door tell someone the kid in Room 4—our room—looked like he had been hit by a truck. I silently agreed as I looked at my boy lying on the table. His feet hung off. He had a box of tissues. He moaned.

“Mom?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“On the way home, can you get a cheeseburger for me?”

I snorted aloud because amazement makes that noise. But the teenaged boy appetite doesn’t brake for vicious viruses and belligerent bacteria. His appetite wanted big meat, big grease, and big cheese. I knew he wasn’t talking about a dainty BlickDonald’s cheeseburger. He would want something taller than a smartphone with a dozen strips of bacon layered throughout. A year ago, he was my pickiest eater. Now, the pursuit of Much Food is one of his driving forces. I’m thankful for teenaged boy growth spurts. It inspired him to branch out. It’s provided a lot of wonder and amusement.

Last night, we were joking over leaving Ryley home alone while everyone else went out. He knew we were kidding, but his number one concern was, “What would I eat?”

My husband said, “I’d leave you with a box of cereal, a jug of milk, and a box of waffles.”

Sam, without missing a beat, said, “Ryley would only live for two hours.”

It’s funny because it’s true. I always thought it was a cliche, but it’s not. Teenagers, especially boys, eat a lot. A lot. And I’ve done the math. Tommy just turned 12 on Monday. He’ll join the frenzy soon. Joel, at 10, isn’t far behind. All that chowing down leads to children who are taller than their mothers before she’s ready to look up at their faces.

I already look up at two of my kids. Sam, my now-better, former-sickie, cheeseburger-seeking boy inches closer daily.

Typical light snack of average teenaged male

P.S. Did Sam get his cheeseburger? No. By the time we left, he changed his mind and wanted a large macaroni and cheese from Boston Market. You know, the size that feeds a family of four. He got it.

Winter Wonderland Found

I couldn’t wait to take our whole family to the Denver Botanic Garden’s Blossoms of Light this year. A few of us went last year. We had so much fun, we talked about it in March, in June, in September. The beauty, enchantment, and whimsy stuck with us long after winter sailed away. Everyone was thrilled to go based on our starry-eyed recounting of our memorable night. Sadly, sickness hit last week and this week, so I was only able to whisk away a few of the kiddos to experience this year’s rendition. The rest of the gang hope to go later this week.

Color and texture

2013 at the Gardens did not disappoint. I was pleased to note they changed some of the displays and the colors in the various gardens. It wasn’t that last years wasn’t amazing. It was! It was nice the lighting and design geniuses are dedicated to keeping it fresh.

Aidan, Joel, and Tommy

There are several familiar areas under construction right now—notably the new Science Pyramid. Many of the water features are being improved, so this year it seemed there weren’t as many water-related displays. The kids were slightly disappointed because kids + water = good times. However, they thought the Enchanted Forest was better this year. I did, too. Thousands of tiny points of light dance around on the ground, bouncing over coats and faces as you walk. Look closely at bushes lining the walkway because many are bathed in this magical effect.

Bright lights everywhere

It was beautiful. Photos can’t fully convey the experience. Part of the fun is being a bit cold, walking along in the dark, oohing and aahing. Don’t forget to stop for cocoa and cider. We did. This year, nobody spilled her entire cocoa all over my pants!

dreamland

The kids called this The Cherry Blossom Tree

One of the loveliest things about Blossoms of Light is how they use light to enhance the natural beauty of the winter night gardens. After all, they are experts in plants, trees, and flowers, so seeing them illuminated is a huge treat. For example, prickly pear cacti with a twist:

Scrappy dead branches find new life.

I bought a pair of snowflake HoloSpex glasses for the kids to share. They’re $2 and sold at a cart near the entrance to the marked path. I took a photo through one of the lenses.

through snowflake lenses

The Denver Botanic Gardens Blossoms of Light runs now through January 1, 2014. Please don’t think of this gorgeous tradition as simply a Christmas thing to do. I can’t think of a better way to battle the dark and cold of winter than setting it ablaze with shimmering color. It would be a fun post-Christmas blah buster. It would be a highly romantic way to ring in the new year, too.

You can buy tickets online. Members receive a discount, kids 2 and younger are free. The paths are stroller friendly and bathrooms are open so don’t worry about taking small kiddos.

(The Denver Botanic Gardens gave tickets to our family so we could check it out and share our thoughts and experiences. The opinions are mine and my kids’.)