Just how much can one piece of cinema affect a young lad’s persona, nurturally speaking?
I have long suspected that a childhood spent devouring Spider-Man comics had something to do with my love for being the little guy trying to do right, and for caring about the little old ladies in my life.
A recent re-viewing of Mary Poppins (what? My mom had class)—a film I saw nearly as many times as The Neverending Story and Return of the Jedi—I asked myself just how much this little forty-six year old musical was responsible for the man I is.
Ponder: the impat of the music is itself a lesson for another time, but the film’s message is staggering with how in sync it is with my own value system. Mr. Banks conversion to the “Fly a Kite” school of philosophy is still one of the more moving in the world of cinema, his loony spouting off random bits of verse to his employers as it overtakes him beauty defined.
There is a moment where Banks’ son Michael wishes only to spend his precious tuppence on bird seed, but his father pressures him to invest it. When Michael lashes out against a greedy senior partner—my lifelong soft spot for Dick van Dyke starts here—pandemonium runs the day, as everyone within earshot of Michael’s “Give me my money!” cry attempts to withdraw their own savings. The bank closes at the fear of a crash and a polite Georgian riot follows.
I recall thinking, “That’s wrong. A bank should be there to serve you, not to make money from you.”
And, “What kind of sad existence is there in only seeking more money?”
Childishness, perhaps, but not too far removed from what I hold dearest in my opinions over all things monetary decades later. Banks are a service industry exploiting the common man—have been for centuries, and I don’t like it. The pursuit of money, living and working for the making of it, always seeking the acquisition of more capital, stands to me as a living hell.
I recently caught a clip of the reality show Dragon's Den. Please keep in mind that I abhor television and I abhor reality television most of all, so there was some bias to begin with. One of these "dragons" was cheing into a prospective entrepreneur saying, "Money doesn't care, money has no love. Money cries no tears." His deep-seeded love for money and his philosophy that it's soulessness is what matters most about it made me pity this man. Rich, yes. Big house, yes. Happy? He'd say he has money. I can't define happiness that way.
I recently caught a clip of the reality show Dragon's Den. Please keep in mind that I abhor television and I abhor reality television most of all, so there was some bias to begin with. One of these "dragons" was cheing into a prospective entrepreneur saying, "Money doesn't care, money has no love. Money cries no tears." His deep-seeded love for money and his philosophy that it's soulessness is what matters most about it made me pity this man. Rich, yes. Big house, yes. Happy? He'd say he has money. I can't define happiness that way.
Did it all start with Mary Poppins?
Bert is the most attractive character in the whole film, morally speaking. Every day a different job, taking adversity with a wink and a cockney smirk, he will die happy—no matter how horribly his accent is delivered.
When you grow up, you have to shake off some of the black and white idealism of youth. I can’t be Bert. I’m a husband and a father and my responsibilities matter to me. But I’ll sure never be the pre-Poppinsinizationed Mr. Banks!
My hatred for money’s dominance, my contempt for capitalism, my ire for conformity; my love for a good musical, my interest in Victorian/Georgian London—could it all be tied to a childhood viewing of Mary Poppins?
If I really was that impressionable, then thank God I didn’t read Ayn Rand as a child.
