WORDS Eoin McCague

Saving Mr. Banks tells the story of Walt Disney’s (Tom Hanks) wooing of author P.L. Travers (a suitably snarky Emma Thompson) for the rights to Mary Poppins. Hollywood has always had a love affair with itself; the Academy is inevitably quick to heap praise on films like Sunset Boulevard, The Player and Argo. It is my hope that they will do the same here. Seeing as The Walt Disney Company distributed John Lee Hancock’s film, one could be excused from expecting a sugar coated, PG-rated sanding down of the rough edges concerning the relationship between Travers and Walt. Unsurprisingly, this is the case. What is surprising, however, is how the film perfectly, and one might say magically, illustrates the hard work, inspiration and luck it takes to make a timeless family favourite.

Thompson portrays Travers as an archetypal post-war Brit: prim, proper and extremely contentious. Hank’s turn as the sharp-tongued mogul then is the perfect foil, and he steals the show, once again showing his brilliance despite carrying Hollywood’s greatest tycoon on his shoulders. Hancock, knowing he is onto a winner, and in keeping with his wonderfully realised revision of the Hollywood era, respectfully refrains from exuding any style that would distract from these actors operating at the top of their games.

Through the use of intermittent flashback, we gradually realise why Travers is reluctant to let go of her creation, and the conclusion is genuinely touching. Saving Mr. Banks may be a blatant “Disneyfication” of the events, but it is also a strong reminder of what The Walt Disney Company can produce when the talent is there.