In the half-century since the original “Mary Poppins” debuted, we’ve learned a lot about refined sugar, frankly none of it good. Doctors tell us it can lead to obesity, heart disease and all sorts of other detriments to our health.
But let’s face it, there are times when a little sugar — oh what the heck, let’s say a spoonful — is just what we need, if not for health then for happiness. So it’s sweet news indeed that “Mary Poppins Returns,” a sequel 54 years in coming, provides just that spoonful of happiness in the form of Emily Blunt, practically perfect in every way as the heir to Julie Andrews.
“Spit spot!” “Pish Posh!” “Jigetty Jog!” These Poppins-isms slip effortlessly off Blunt’s tongue. It’s also no simple feat to gaze at one’s reflection and say “practically perfect in every way” and not seem egotistical, but Blunt’s easy warmth and charm shine through.
Of course she can also sing, and dance, with partners both live and animated. And she’s funny — witness her priceless indignation when a child asks how much she weighs. But then she can spin on a dime and convey that steely Poppins nerve, that sense that in a crisis, she knows exactly what must be done, and everybody else had better stand aside.
There’s further happy news here: It’s not just Blunt that’s at the top of her game in this thoroughly delightful enterprise by director Rob Marshall and a crack team of artists devoted to both honoring a time-worn classic and finding something new to say.
The visuals are lovely, from the oil paintings in the opening credits to the balloon-filled spring fair at the end. And Sandy Powell’s costumes are fabulous.
Blunt’s star power is complemented here by appealing turns from Lin-Manuel Miranda as Jack, a kind-hearted lamplighter who once worked for Bert the chimney sweep (aka Dick Van Dyke); Ben Whisham and Emily Mortimer as the elder Banks children, a slimy Colin Firth as the bank chief, and, for icing on the cake, a flame-haired Meryl Streep as Mary’s vaguely Eastern European cousin Topsy .
Then there’s the icing on the icing: a cameo by Van Dyke himself, still spry at 92, that is hands-down the emotional peak of the film.
The setting is Depression-era London, where widowed Michael lives with his three young children at 17 Cherry Tree Lane, struggling to stay afloat. Sister Jane, a labor organizer, lives in a flat across town.
As we begin, Michael learns he’s behind on loan payments, and the bank wants to take his house. He’s given five days to find proof that his father owned shares there, which could save the home. Searching desperately, he comes across an old kite but tosses it in the trash.
Luckily it’s a windy day, and who flies in with that kite? Yep, Mary, emerging from the sky with her bottomless bag and umbrella.
