By Susan Granger
Special to WestportNow
If you’re looking for a jolly holiday gift that’s “practically perfect,” take everyone — kids and grandparents included — to see “Mary Poppins Returns,” an enchanting, utterly delightful Disney sequel.
It’s set in 1930s London, long after “Mary Poppins” original 1964 visit. Grown-up Michael Banks (Ben Whishaw) is now a widower, and his labor-activist sister Jane (Emily Mortimer) has come to help him with his three little children: Georgie (Joel Dawson), John (Nathanael Saleh) and Annabel (Pixie Davies).
Their mother died a year ago, and grief-stricken Michael’s financial position is so precarious that they’re at risk of losing their beloved family home on Cherry Tree Lane to villainous Fidelity Fiduciary banker, William Weatherall Wilkins (Colin Firth), unless Michael can repay a home equity loan in five days.
That’s when Mary Poppins (Emily Blunt), the mysterious nanny, descends from the clouds, clutching her parrot-headed umbrella and carpetbag full of surprises.
Mary is snappy, strict and extraordinarily vain, yet warm and fun-loving, particularly when she makes magic with Jack (Lin-Manuel Miranda), her Cockney lamplighter mate, and her manic, directionally-challenged Cousin Topsy (Meryl Streep).
“No one can out-Julie Andrews Julie Andrews,” Emily Blunt says. “This is about presenting my version.”
As an added treat, Dick Van Dyke dances and Angela Lansbury sings. Who could ask for anything more?
The exuberant collaboration between screenwriter David Magee (“The Life of Pi,” “Finding Neverland”) and director Rob Marshall (“Into the Woods,” “Chicago”), along with Marshall’s partner/producer John DeLuca and cinematographer Dion Beebe, results in an eye-popping, entertaining, yet emotional film.
Beyond supercalifragilisticexpialodocious, it deals with the even deeper issues that British author P.L. Travers explored in “Mary Poppins Comes Back” (1935) and “Mary Poppins Opens the Door” (1945).
While Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman’s new songs aren’t as memorable as the Sherman Brothers’ classics, they’re toe-tapping and tuneful.
On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Mary Poppins Returns” is a terrific 10, one of the best family films of the year.
In “At Eternity’s Gate,” Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890), who yearned to be admired — and rewarded financially — during his lifetime, muses: “Maybe God made me a painter for people who aren’t born yet. I’d like to share my vision with people who can’t see the way I see.”
Julian Schnabel’s fragmentary exploration of this enigmatic Dutch master’s mind during his declining years in Arles, St.-Remy and Auvers-sur-Oise is both fascinating and frustrating.
“I’d like to find a new light … bright pictures, painted in sunlight,” Van Gogh (Willem Dafoe) explains to his colleague/friend Paul Gauguin (Oscar Isaac) and art-dealer brother Theo (Rupert Friend), as he leaves Paris for the French countryside.
While Schnabel’s film is not a biopic, it does correct some inaccurate assumptions that people have made over the years, particularly after Kirk Douglas’ Van Gogh portrayal in “Lust for Life” (1956).
After Schnabel and screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere attended a Van Gogh exhibition, they devised the concept, enriching it with Schnabel’s girlfriend, Swedish designer/co-editor Louise Kugelberg.
Van Gogh wasn’t antisocial; he lacked social graces. His work was all important: “Sometimes it’s so intense when I’m in the middle of nature that I forget my name and it’s hard to remember where I am.”
For authenticity, Dafoe learned to paint. Schnabel taught him how to hold the brush, make marks and organize his materials — which was necessary for one scene in particular in which cinematographer Benoit Delhomme chronicles Van Gogh painting his shoes.
“At first, it doesn’t look like the shoes but it deeply captures the soul of those shoes. You experience it,” Dafoe says. “Benoit was my biggest acting partner. It was just me and his fluid camera. We say what has to be accomplished and Julian lets us do it.”
Some quibble that Van Gogh died at 37, yet he’s portrayed by 63-year-old Willem Dafoe. But consider the statistic that in France in 1890, the median age of death for men was 48.
On the Granger Gauge, “At Eternity’s Gate” is a concentrated 7, a meditative musing.
“Vox Lux” is a garish, gaudy mess of a musical melodrama that begins on Staten Island in 1999, when teenage Celeste (Raffey Cassidy) sustains a life-threatening spinal injury as she tries to talk down the shooter during a harrowing massacre at her school.
Comforted by her older, more talented sister Eleanor (Stacy Martin), Celeste is understandably traumatized. Working through PTSD, they write “Wrapped Up,” a tribute ballad, mourning the tragic violence. When their song goes viral, they’re courted by a sleazy manager (Jude Law) who seems both paternal and predatory.
As a part of their sudden fame and fortune, they’re plunged into a glitzy world that’s totally foreign to them, working in Stockholm recording studios and participating in video shoots in Los Angeles.
Skipping ahead 18 years, scandal-riddled, substance-addicted Celeste (now played by Natalie Portman) has crashed-and-burned — like Britney Spears. But she’s determined to make a comeback with an extravagant hometown arena show to support her sixth album, entitled “Vox Lux.”
By this time, leather-clad Celeste, still wearing a neck brace, has her own estranged teenage daughter, Albertine (also played by Raffey Cassidy), who has more rapport with resentful Aunt Eleanor.
On the morning of Celeste’s spectacular comeback show, there’s a mass shooting on a beach in Croatia, and the terrorists are wearing glittering masks copied from one of her most popular music videos.
Natalie Portman delivers a brash, full-glam performance, Writer/director Brady Corbet’s cynical, overly ambitious script, encompassing lost innocence, is almost incoherent, so there’s a plot point narration by Willem Dafoe. And Australian singer/songwriter Sia delivers a strident original soundtrack, working with teen pop idol-turned-composer Scott Walker.
On the Granger Gauge, “Vox Lux” is a flashy, deeply flawed 4, pretentious poppycock.
(Editor’s Note: Westport resident Susan Granger grew up in Hollywood, studied journalism with Pierre Salinger at Mills College, and graduated from the University of Pennsylvania with highest honors in journalism. In addition to writing for newspapers and magazines, she has been on radio/television as an anchorwoman and movie/drama critic for many years. See her reviews at www.susangranger.com.)
