Mary Poppins on Stage

Nathan Lane in The Producers who was a marvel—my face hurt.

It was going to be difficult for any production to keep up that pace of

entertainment.

OK, so my seats weren’t the best for Mary Poppins either; being

the hottest new show in town and us on a very tight schedule, we had to

sit way up several balconies (the English call these “Grand Circle”

seats, while the actual good seats are referred to as “stalls”).

Right, well rushing off to the merchandise counter—with nary a thing

to buy. No mugs (a stage show staple), or umbrellas, or even a cast recording,

just T–shirts, one pin, and two versions of the program. We got what

we could, and some wee gifts for the diehards back home. The big program

includes a build–it–yourself 17 Cherry Tree Lane, and all the

requisite glorious photos; the smaller version has actual text about the

show and cast.

The production begins with a song from chimney–sweep Bert (played

by Gavin Lee) and we are soon introduced to the Banks’ home, where mayhem

and unhappiness are already in place. The house set has a roof, which

rises to reveal the interior. The story follows familiar lines for the

first few segments, although “Jolly Holiday” come up quite soon

and features a different sort of magical day in the park. Admiral Boom

(Ian Burford) is unrecognizably present, and not up to any of his antics

from the film. Mrs. Banks (Linzi Hateley) is not a suffragette in this

play version and Mr. Banks (David Haig) is far more upset about his future.

The children have already run away.

Tailor–made nanny Mary Poppins (Laura Michelle Kelly) flies into

these lives and helps out with a haughty dose of sugar. This Mary is very

sure of herself. Yes, when she unpacks her bag upstairs in the nursery,

it is full of impossible items, including a bed, which stands by itself.

These effects were technically well done, if not exactly breathtakingly

groundbreaking—at least from our steep angle. The “Spoonful

of Sugar” scene happens in the kitchen rather than the bedroom and

has rather awkward effects unconvincingly played out by a male member

of the household staff. Strangely, the lesson taught by the song in the

film is completely ignored.

When the “Feed the Birds” sequence came up in the first third

of the show, I was surprised—or rather getting baffled about some

of the logic the show was, ah, following. This sequence has a very different

tone in the film too, but this was odd—then the bird effect was very

cheesy—just the slightest projections.

Well, maybe it’s just hypercritical me who was finding this underwhelming

so far; but I couldn’t help but notice the audience surrounding me was

incredibly restless; I mean stretching and yawning, kids’ heads flopping

on parents shoulders, everyone shifting in their seats—restless.

I looked at my companion and he just shrugged.

Finally, after realizing there is never going to be an Uncle Albert tea

party on the ceiling scene, and thinking there may never be an intermission;

the show at last took on some strangely missing “life” during

the over–the–top and totally senseless “Supercalifagilisticexpialidocious”

number. Don’t ask how this fit in to the story, or who all those people

singing were; just enjoy the stomping and colors (ooops, all that stomping

keeps reminding me of several other tacky shows of the past 10 years—oh

well. The colors are very nice indeed).

Then we are suddenly back in the children’s room—and the show totally

lost me. Despite a marvelous day at the fair, the kids are being brats,

and Mary marches off with a warning to them to mind their “temper

temper”s. Rather than learning anything from Ms. Poppins, she has

left them alone with their toys as punishment—which then come to

life in a nightmare of recrimination for toy abuse. Huge oversized toys

dance around and terrorize the kids. Mary abandons them for this and is

gone as the second act begins.

Logic is also long gone, as we are introduced to the nasty old lady who

was supposed to have been Mr. Banks’ debilitating nanny 40 years earlier.

She is now the replacement nanny to fix all these problems that Mary caused/never

solved. Within minutes of entering the house, she whips out the cod–liver

oil and a giant spoon to feed it to the kids with—singing all about

“Brimstone and Treacle” (bothering me a bit since at the first

mention of this woman, she was called “Miss Andrews”—oh,

a clever homage, thinks I, until seeing that this woman is correctly called

“Miss Andrew” and is a monster). Mary decides to fly in again

on the tail of a kite one day and refuses to explain why she went away.

She also takes it upon herself to rid the Banks’ of the old nanny, and

actually, ah, “dispenses” with the lady’s pet bird before her.

This is certainly not the Mary Poppins I knew, who befriended little birds

and sang along with them; nor did she abandon her charges. (The woman

and child sitting next to me, along with several others in our section,

did abandon the whole show and had not returned from the intermission).

As “Steps In Time” started, it just felt as though we had been

rushed through the hit list and had to include this one, too. By the time

“Steps” was done, so was any resemblance to a show Walt Disney

would have known. All the rules of the world we have been in for two hours

are forgotten as dancers and the Banks’ family collided inside their house

and all over the stage. The budding finale features a new and upbeat number,

but what it has to do with anything is beyond me. Sadly, the family is

not brought back together over kite flying (as indeed it is Bert who enjoys

this time with the kids much earlier). The show then hits “replay”

as we are treated to a reprise of many of the songs we’ve heard.

Yes, at the very end Mary flies out over the orchestra up to the ceiling,

in a moment so overplayed and anticipated it was bound to disappoint in

its obviousness. (the effect was first used exactly 100 years earlier

that week, just blocks away, in Peter Pan).

It’s not that it was an awful show; I’m glad to have seen it, and those

that remained in the audience cheered long and loudly at the close. But

it immediately felt like a confused and contrived piece of “committeEtainment”

to each of us.

Looking at the long history of this production, it would seem that the

producing powers of Disney and Mackintosh also collided and each got limited

say over certain areas, not resulting in a cohesive whole. With the two

producers, two directors (Richard Eyre—Tony award winner for Carousel

in Lincoln Center, and Matthew Bourne—Tony winning creator of

Swan Lake), two choreographers (Mr. Bourne and Olivier Award–winner

Stephen Mear), as well as two sets of songwriters (the original Sherman

Brothers, and new material by George Stiles and Anthony Drewe), there

is lacking a single vision.

The performers were all highly talented, adequately acting and completely

forgettable. The kids are literally interchangeable with the days of the

week (labor laws, of course). Bert was strong, but could be cast with

anyone; same with Banks’ houseful. Mary was performed by Britain’s new

stage star of My Fair lady and Beauty and the Beast. Though

able to belt out the songs pleasantly, she seemed wooden and detached

at all times—well beyond what is called for in character. I thought

the pictures in the program of her were very nice, but they were her only

facial expressions—a manga–style actor as it turns out. (and

recent Olivier Award winner for the role).

In total—besides not completely regretting seeing this, it did absolutely

give me a far richer appreciation for Walt Disney’s film. Often called

his cinematic masterpiece, I had not fully appreciated that its greatest

strength is its story structure! There are so many obvious delights to

the film it is easy to overlook the nuanced tales being told—and

the stage play fails here badly enough to bring it to attention. All the

participants of the film contribute to a satisfying tale of families finding

their way together, and the angels who come into our lives to guide them

in mysterious ways. For all its regimented grandiose spectacle, the show

sadly dispenses with too much detail of these relationships and actually

contradicts them at times, to successfully glow as the film still does

after 40 years.

There’s no doubt that the play is—and will be—a huge hit…

and I can always hope they will adapt it a bit before it comes to Broadway

(the elements are all there), but those sleeping kids and we agreed, it

was a bit too “practical” and not nearly “perfect”.

Text–message to the mates: “Messy Ploppins.”