It's something I do quite often. And it usually works. Some of my fondest experiences--the best films I've seen, the best meals I have eaten, my favorite family events--have been a result of artifically-deflated anticipation. I call it the Law of Dimished Expectations.
I mention this because yesterday, my youngest kid and I did a little dad-and-son outing to catch the touring version of Disney Theatrical's Mary Poppins. Being that Mary Poppins is my favorite film EVER, and given the mixed reviews I'd read since the show made its West End debut in 2004, I knew that this was a job for The Law of Diminished Expectations.
Somehow, I was still let down.
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| The poster is nice... |
Mary Poppins, the Broadway musical, is lavish. It has some stunning set pieces. The YMCA-on-crack choreography in the "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" is amazingly frenetic. Bert's upside down tap dance as he goes "over the rooftops" during the "Step in Time" number is riciculously delicious. And Mary Poppins' final flight over the audience is, honestly, magical.
But those good points have a hard time outweighing the negatives. Because this is a show that is miserable in its pointlessness. It's all over the place, dabbling in borrowed elements from the Disney film, elements that I presume to be gleaned from PL Travers' original work, and newly contrived sequences that detract from the whole affair.
In this Cameron Mackintosh Poppins, we find a lot of familiar elements. Mary Poppins looks like you remember her from the film. Bert too, albeit maybe a slighter version than Dick Van Dyke's lanky jack-of-all-trades. And many of the film's most recognizable songs are woven throughout. The show's producers had no problem mining the film for those hooks that audiences would know.
Sadly, the same team decided to put their own creative stamp on Poppins. Jane and Michael Banks are an inexcusably shrill pair of children, doomed to live in an "Upstairs/Downstairs" world complete with servant-angst, a heart-broken mother, and a spineless father. The audience is forced to contend with useless information about all these characters, sorting through exposition that does nothing to enhance the experience. Who cares that Mrs. Banks is a former actress, or that Mr. Banks faces hard decisions in his work life, or that Miss Brill dusts an expensive vase?
Mary Poppins is only a practically perfect film. It is a little too long, it meanders at times, and its visual effects are uneven at times. But what the film Poppins has is two things that transcend its flaws: clarity and heart.
It's a shame that the Broadway Poppins is a complicated mess. And worse, it is too cool for sincerity.
Walt knew that audiences are not afraid of emotion. Too bad Broadway couldn't figure that one out when they went monkeying with one of his greatest productions.
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| Practically perfect |
