MARY POPPINS (1964) ***1/2 The film that inspired the geniuses of a generation to either become chimney sweeps or pursue a future in magic. Tragically David Tomlinson, who needed the dosage more than most, is seized only shortly after his liberation from the bank and sentenced to an even grayer future. Julie Andrews, the "fairly pretty" nanny as requested, regularly bursts into song (great or irritating pop score, depending on your vantage point), and is counterpointed by equally historic Penguin body humor from Dick Van Dyke. It's all quite fantastic but Bill Walsh and Don DaGradi slide in some pointedly progressive propaganda about women's rights, fox hunting, and Ireland. Charm is surely Ms. Andrews' long suit, but she's fairly well set on vanity as well. She should be. I'm convinced-let's let women run civilization for the next few thousand years and see if they can possibly do any worse. British family life at the turn to the 20th century almost needs the Taliban to rival it for sheer patriarchal nonsense and related forms of boredom. Glynis Johns is the delightful kind of wife that brought an end to order, as it was known.
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