FILM REVIEW: SAVING MR. BANKS

Walt Disney Studios Films

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In 1934, Australian-born author, P.L. Travers wrote the first in a series of children's book about the magical nanny, Mary Poppins. And for the next 20 years, House of Mouse mogul, Walt Disney, after a promise made to his daughters, pursued the author for the film rights. It wasn't until 1961, and faced with financial problems, that Travers begrudgingly agreed to travel to Los Angeles and meet with Disney to discuss a possible film version of her beloved book.

But the only thing tighter than Travers' perm was her grip on Mary Poppins. The author (Emma Thompson) had continually resisted the advances of Walt Disney's purchase of her children's tale of the au pair with a talking umbrella who arrived on the East wind (you can understand Disney's attraction) lest a film version include singing, dancing and -- heavens to Mergatroid! -- animation. Travers wasn't about to sign over her creation, or creative control, without a fight.

We know who won that battle in the end -- Walt Disney didn't get rich by taking no for an answer or by placing artistic integrity above commercial gain -- but Saving Mr. Banks, directed by John Lee Hancock (2009's The Blind Side) and penned by Kelly Marcel and Sue Smith, would have you believe that Travers' capitulation to Disney's demands was for the better.

Thus we get scenes of Poppins pre-production (which Travers insists be recorded) where screenwriter Don DaGradi (Bradley Whitford) and the songwriting Sherman Brothers, Robert (B.J. Novak) and Richard (Jason Schwartzman), roll their eyes and bite their tongues at every one of Travers' objections to grammar, set design, character facial hair, and the invention of words for songs. It's the uptight Brit versus the fun Americans, and you just know who you're supposed to root for.

We're also treated to flashbacks of the author's childhood in Queensland (though not shot in Australia), where her banker father (a fine Colin Farrell) instilled in the young lass (played by young Aussie, Annie Rose Buckley) the power of imagination. His drunkenness and irresponsibility also left Travers with daddy issues, or at least according to Saving Mr. Banks; the title referring to both the patriarch in her book and the past which haunts the author. The best exorcism, according to Walt? Letting go.

The 1964 film version of Mary Poppins has since become a family classic; winning 5 Oscars from 13 nominations, and, at the time, Disney's highest grosser. And as the old adage goes, history is written by the victors: any film about Walt Disney, produced and distributed by Walt Disney Studios, is bound to be whitewashed. Disney himself is but a bit player here (making absurd those who believed Hanks, admittedly fine, was a slam dunk for an Oscar nomination), and most of Travers' bio (bisexual, adopted son, spiritualist) have been excised completely.

Still, Emma Thompson is always a welcome screen presence. She doesn't make Travers likeable as such but she does well to keep her stubbornness, unfiltered honesty and "English-ness" from being a one-note bore (a snippet of voice recording in the closing credits reveals that the real P.L. Travers was indeed a stickler for detail with the voice of a patrician English school ma'am). Just as Travers does the large plush Mickey Mouse doll sent to her hotel suite, you begrudgingly embrace this prickly woman.

There's no denying that Saving Mr. Banks is, on one level, a very entertaining film, and I'll admit that even I was not immune to some of its humour and charm. The supporting cast, which also includes a sunny Paul Giamatti as Travers' limo driver, are all good. But there's an underlying insidiousness to the film: a suggestion that the proof is in the final pudding (though I've never actually watched Mary Poppins; certainly not from beginning to end) and that the ends justify the means.

Of course, filmmaking has always been about the marriage between commerce and art, symbolised here (unintentionally, I'm sure) when Travers, attending the L.A. premiere of Mary Poppins (which Disney did not invite her to), is escorted down the aisle of the red carpet by a certain anthropomorphized rodent, as though on their way to consecrate their unholy union.

If anything, Saving Mr. Banks is the story of how an entertainment corporation co-opted and corrupted one artist's vision, and that's a jagged little pill which requires more than a spoonful of sugar to help it go down.

FILM REVIEW: AUGUST: OSAGE COUNTY

MY FAVOURITE FILMS OF 2013

For some film reviewers, 2013 was one of the best years for movies in quite some time, and there is merit in such an argument. As always, my film viewing year was topped and tailed by 2012's Oscar contenders and 2013's crop of awards hopefuls. But was it a great year? It was certainly a very strong one but as with last year, for me it was the smaller films which won me over while bigger and more anticipated titles failed to impress.

2013 was a year where Gosling went 0 for 3 (I still love you, Ryan!), animated features reached a nadir, and I somehow managed to see just one Australian film (unless you count The Great Gatsby?). A year when one of my all-time favourite books became a far from favourite film (Gatsby again), and Cate Blanchett gave an award-winning performance in Woody Allen's Blue Jasmine. And yet, the best female performance of the year (Julie Delpy in Before Midnight) is unlikely to receive an Oscar nomination.

My Best of 2012 list actually cut-off at January 10, 2013, so after much to-ing and fro-ing, I have decided that my Favourite Films of 2013 would be limited to films viewed for the first time in 2013* (see list to the right of screen) regardless of Australian release date. (*Classics such as Badlands, The Godfather I and II, The Shining and Goodfellas, which were also viewed for the first time in 2013, are ineligible).

Much to the chagrin of some, I'm sure, I have made my list alphabetical rather than numerical. But to appease those sticklers for (arbitrary) rules, I have conceded to name a favourite film separate to my Top 10.

MY TOP 10

BEFORE MIDNIGHT: The near perfect conclusion to a perfect film trilogy. Richard Linklater, Ethan Hawke and especially Julie Delpy are in fine form here as Jesse (Hawke) and Celine (Delpy), nine years after the events in Paris, come to the end of a summer in the southern Peloponnese and a crossroads in their 20-year relationship. It's movie-making magic and in a perfect world, Before Midnight would be winning all of the awards (Delpy IS the Best Actress of 2013).

CLOUD ATLAS: By no means a masterpiece or even perfect -- not all of the connections between the six different narratives and timelines are seamless or even tenuous -- but for whatever reason, I fell in love with the Wachowskis' (Lana and Andy) and Tom Tykwer's adaptation of the David Mitchell novel which boasts an impressive cast (some switching genders and races) and a daring we see all to rarely in today's films.

ENOUGH SAID: At last, a rom-com for grown-ups. But it isn't all smooth sailing in Nicole Holofcener's look at love the second time around, where the laughs come with the pang of truth. Those laughs (and tears) come courtesy of two terrific performances by Julia Louis Dreyfus and the late James Gandolfini.

THE HUNT: When a little girl tells a lie about her teacher (an excellent Mads Mikkelsen), his world is turned upside down as his friends and neighbours turn against and upon him. Hysteria and suspicion take hold in Thomas Vinterberg's gripping drama where the presumption of innocence is the first casualty and mateship soon follows.

MUD: A little bit Great Expectations, a little bit Huck Finn, Jeff Nichols' third film is a wonderfully original tale of a boy's gradual transition into adulthood over the course of a few summer days on the banks of the Mississippi. When Ellis (Tye Sheridan) and his pal, Neckbone (Jacob Lofland), discover escaped convict Mud (Matthew McConaughey), they decide to help him reunite with his love (Reese Witherspoon), learning all manner of life lessons in the process.

THE ROCKET: The best Australian film of 2013 (although truth be told, the only Oz film I saw this year) and one of the year's best. Period. This Laos-set tale of a boy out to prove that he is not the family curse, is undeniably feel good but in the best possible way. It will leave you with a huge smile and a heart full to bursting.

RUST AND BONE: Marion Cotillard is, of course, terrific but it's Matthias Schoenaerts who is a revelation in this Beauty and the Beast tale: he's a streetfighter struggling with fatherhood; she's a whale trainer who's suffered an horrific accident, yet these two broken people find an unlikely -- and beautiful -- kinship with each other.

STORIES WE TELL: Canadian actress-turned-director, Sarah Polley, follows up the wonderful Take This Waltz (2012) with a documentary examining the secrets and lies within her own family and the very question of her paternity. An intelligent, fascinating and moving blend of interviews and recreations, truth and memory made for my favourite documentary of the year.

UPSTREAM COLOR: I won't even begin to posit what I think writer-director-cinematographer-composer-star Shane Carruth's film is about, lest I say that it involves abduction, worms, mind control, romance, pigs, and soul transference (possibly?). Simultaneously elusive and beguiling, Upstream Color may just be the biggest -- and best -- film riddle of the year.

THE WAY, WAY BACK: A typical coming of age-one memorable summer film, and yet The Way, Way Back (written and directed by Nat Faxon and Jim Rash) boasts so much heart and warmth -- and laughs. They're mostly provided by Sam Rockwell whose man-child Owen becomes the mentor to young Duncan (Liam James), who is out to prove his mum's boyfriend wrong: that he's so much more than a '3 out of 10'. And so is the film.


MY FAVOURITE FILM OF 2013: LINCOLN

What could have been a stuffy period drama about America's most beloved president, Abraham Lincoln, is, in fact, history brought to life. That's thanks in no small part to playwright Tony Kushner's impressive dialogue, a colouful cast of character actors, and, of course, the Oscar-winning performance of Daniel Day-Lewis as the man determined to pass the 13th Amendment to abolish slavery. Lincoln is easily one of Steven Spielberg's best films and my favourite of 2013.

Disagree with any of my choices? Fine, but I don't care to hear about it; this is a list of what I loved. But I'm happy to hear what you watched and loved at the movies in 2013. Comment away!

FILM REVIEW: PHILOMENA

Hopscotch Films

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In a year of highly successful onscreen couplings -- Delpy and Hawke (Before Midnight), Cotillard and Schoenaerts (Rust and Bone), Douglas and Damon (Behind The Candelabra) -- the pairing of Judi Dench, the grand dame of British stage and screen, and comedian Steve Coogan, is neither the oddest nor the most perfect. But in director Stephen Frears' Philomena, it's a winning combination all the same.

Dench plays Philomena Lee, a devout Irish Catholic who, having been forced by her Church to give up her "sinfully" conceived son for adoption 50 years ago, has forgiven the nuns' trespass against her but has never forgotten her little boy. When Martin Sixsmith (Coogan), a journalist in search of a new project, hears of Philomena's plight to be reunited with her son, he begrudgingly takes up the human interest story -- sweet, elderly woman versus evil nuns -- before he soon realises that there is a far more serious and cruel narrative being unearthed.

Based on actual events, and adapted (by Coogan and Jeff Pope) from Sixsmith's own book, The Lost Child of Philomena Lee, the film traverses familiar territory and yet manages to spring the occasional surprise. The first being its humour; perhaps not as surprising given Coogan's involvement but laughs are not what you expect in a film about maternal anguish and the sins of the Church.

Naturally, a lot of that humour stems from the odd couple pairing of the little old woman of faith and the cynical, world weary journalist, particularly when their search for Philomena's son leads them to the United States -- all the way to the White House, in fact -- and a road trip of-sorts. But just as Philomena proves to be more canny than her homely, romance novel-loving persona would suggest, Martin is revealed to be far more sensitive to and protective of his travelling companion.

But what you also don't expect in the film is Philomena's defense of the Church and more specifically, the former Mother Superior of the Irish-based Order who caused her so much grief. While Sixsmith rages at the injustices on her behalf (Coogan delivering a blisteringly funny line about what Jesus would do), Philomena accepts that the nuns were doing what they believed to be right, for both the child and in the eyes of God. Although her faith is tested, she barely wavers.

The real Philomena Lee recently wrote a letter to an American film critic who accused the film of anti-Catholicism, wherein she praised the film's depiction of her story whilst reaffirming her devotion to her faith. Frears and Coogan's film eviscerates the Church's treatment of unwed mothers -- who, after being forcefully separated from their children were expected to work off their sin -- whilst simultaneously acknowledging the strength of spirit of Philomena; so often the film's only true Christian, even when surrounded by a convent full of nuns.

Dench (even though her Irish accent falters) can do this kind of role in her sleep. Still, she imbues Philomena Lee with both a requisite softness and steely grit, one developed over 50 years spent agonising over the loss of her child but never once regretting his existence. Coogan is good, too, providing Sexsmith with a dry wit but never making him a caricature. The pair play off each other wonderfully in a dramedy which celebrates devotion: a mother's to her son and a journalist's to the truth.