w00t! My first pitting!!! 
…And by a Mod, no less!!!
< sniff >
I…am the luckiest…man alive.
That said:
Fuck your bad ass Euty, you smegma-encrusted hyenea of ignorance. You want an apology? Fuck your apology.
If you’d get your “company line” head out of your “company-line” ass, you’d realize that Feed the Fucking Birds is a fucking dull song. The music is sleep-inducing. Not because it was a lullaby, but because it’s boring and the lyrics are bad. Yes, there’s this romantic cachet it has because Disney got all Howard Hughs/The Conquerer-weird over th’ song but c’mon:
Feed the birds
Tuppence a bag
Tuppence, tuppence,
tuppence a bag*
C’mon. They rhymed “bag” with “bag” :rolleyes: Cole Porter had nothing to fear from this fucking drivel from the otherwise talented Sherman Brothers.
And let’s compare it to “The Age of Not Believing” (which is similar in the sense that both cowshit and truffles can be described as “earthy”):
You’re a castaway where no-one hears you
On a barren isle, in a lonely sea.
Where have all the happy endings gone?
Where can all the good times be?
Granted, “sea” and “be” aren’t Sondheim-esqe either, but at least the imagery says something. Other than “Birdfood costs a tuppence”.
And what’s so fucking scary about Tomlinson and Lansbury? Are you against the concept of middle-aged people finding love in a movie? Must every movie feature just-barely post-teen hardbodied romance and sweaty redheads with smooth breasts and pert nipples? I found Tomlinson and Lansbury quite the beliveable couple. I’m shocked to find that you’re an ageist, you ageist.
And I notice that you’ve completely ignored the fucking fact that
MARY POPPINS HAS NO FUCKING PLOT.
Stories need plots. Otherwise, they’re just a bunch of things that happen.
The “plot” of Mary Poppins boils down to
- Dad’s a little grumpy and the kids are spoiled little mutants (Call Professor X! Their superpower is to induce sleep or nausea with a mere glance will put them in the first ranks of the X-Men!) who substiute treacle for acting ability.
- Dad hires a new nanny. She is indeed hot and while she has a great voice, she has no personality other than “icky-sweet”
- The kids clean their room (and wasn’t that exciting: 15 minute of screen time about two spoiled kids putting away all of their hundreds of toys. To quote the smartest man alive, “it combine(d) the charm of a Pentagon briefing with the excitement of double-entry bookkeeping.”). And nothing fucking happens.
- The kids have a tea-party with a hysteric. I mean, was the guy auditioning for the role of The Joker? And nothing fucking happens.
- The kids have a picnic with penguins. And nothing fucking happens.
- The kids meet a creepy old bag lady with a bird fetish. And nothing fucking happens.
- The kids meet a badly made-up Dick Van Dyke playing a creepy old coot in the bank and promptly cause a bank panic. This is the first time we’ve gotten a hint of conflict or excitiement. So of course, it’s forgotten.
- Some chimney sweeps dance on some rooftops. The kids join in: apparently Mary Fucking Poppins thinks that forcing kids to dance on slippery rooftops is a good thing, but in point of fact, no-one dies.
- The bank panic forgotten, Dad, now drunk instead of grumpy, stands up to the creepy bank guy. He tells a joke. Everyone laughs. The creepy bank guy dies. Drunken dad has committed murder.
- Everyone flies kites…except the dead guy and the gay chimney sweeps. Dad’s murder is ignored and the creepy dead guy’s son gives Dad his job back as a reward for having murdered his father.
(Order may be slightly off: since no plot point ever leads to any other (other than the last one or two), it doesn’t really matter.)
No growth, no changes except that dad is marginally less grumpy than he was before and he’s now a murderer. :rolleyes:
Compare that to Bedknobs and Broomsticks wherein Charles learns to unlock his inner child, Carrie divests herself of the “middle child” syndrome and learns to let others care for her rather than being the eternal nurturer, Emelius becomes a true warrior learning honor, courage and responsiblity, and Miss Price unlocks her long-repressed sexual nature. Plus they all kick the fucking shit out of some Nazi ass.
:eek: :eek: :eek: :eek:
AH-HA!
NOW it becomes clear: you, Euty, being a Mod, are de facto, a Nazi. You object to seeing other Nazis get their goddamned asses kicked! ADMIT IT!!! THAT’S THE CRUX OF YOUR OBJECTION, ISN’T IT? ISN’T IT?
And let’s accept the “Gay chimney sweep” interpretation (they do seem to be enjoying fondling those cleaning rods…). I’ll grant you that’s inclusive. But then look at the diversity in Bedknobs and Broomsticks: there are a range of people from black to brown to white. Christians and Hindus dance together. There are rich people, poor people and even prostitues in Bedknobs and Broomsticks (name another Disney full length movie featuring dancing hookers!)
What do you have in Mary Poppins? Icky boring white-bread with mayo people. All drearily middle class. And the fucking moral of Mary Poppins? That their lack of diversity’s good!
But! Where are all the poor downtrodden gay chimney sweeps during the “Go Fly A Kite” number? They’re probably being arrested and sent off to fight in the Boer Wars or whatever the fuck war was going on at the time that this story took place or being ground up to be used as dog-food for the King’s pet corgis or something. They’re certainly not evident in the final “We’re so happy we could puke” number.
And let’s examine the final numbers: in Bedknobs and Broomsticks, there’s a bittersweetness to the fact that Emelius has discovered his warrior-nature and sense of social responsiblity as he sets aside his love for Eglantine and the kids and marches off to save the world from Hitler. In Mary Poppins, the spoiled little pukes are going to be more spoiled as they go fly kites.
Finally, let’s look at the role of womyn: in Mary Poppins, the mom is treated as a joke (and it’s firmly implied that the kids are spoiled mutants because she wasn’t home to tame them), Mary Poppins, the ultimate mommy who does nothing but indulge the mutants and the creepy bag lady with the bird fetish and Jane: spoiled punk-ass wimp. Would you want your daughters to grow up to be just like them? I think not. Compare that to B&B: Carrie is a strong, take-charge character who’s quick thinking and fast reflexes save the day on a number of occasions, and who’s sense of responsiblity provides a calming ying to Charles’s raging yang. And Miss Price. A true Warrior Princess who puts her life and soul in danger for her beloved country…literally going to the ends of the earth to discover the one thing that can protect her land. Which is the better role for our young women? Nurturing Pagan Warrior Princesses or nannies?
Comparing the warm-milk blandness of Mary Poppins to the intense-coffee multilayered complexity of Bedknobs and Broomsticks is like comparing milk to coffee.
Euty: you’ve been brainwashed by the Disney machine. Go. Watch both movies back to back (but make sure you have several ampules of insulin for Mary Poppins, as you might slip into a sugar-and-treacle induced coma), and you’ll realize you’ve been a fucktard. But I forgive you, given our long friendly
Love,
Fenris