Richard M. Sherman

Richard M. Sherman died a couple days ago at 95. Following his brother Robert's death in 2012, both Sherman Brothers are now gone, the team who composed memorable songs for quite a lot of movies. Winnie the Pooh, The Sword in the Stone, and The Jungle Book were all theirs, but I think Mary Poppins remains their crowning achievement.

Like the heroine's self-description, the movie is practically perfect in every way. The cast is flawless, remarkable for such a large ensemble. It has gorgeous matte paintings and a decent story. But if I had to pick one element that's more crucial than any other, I'd say it's the songs. Wistful, ominous, and playful, often all at the same time, the Sherman Brothers songs help give the film that subtle air of melancholy and dread that underlies all the hijinks.

It's a movie kids love but, like so many great children's stories, it's really about the adults. The climax of the film depends on a change of heart by Mr. Banks, a character who's on the periphery for most of the film. When Bert unexpectedly takes Banks' side after rescuing the children in those scary alleyways, it's to explain the essential tragedy of adulthood; Banks has no parents or nanny to go to. Bert's own financial circumstances are never really addressed but the fact that he does a variety of odd jobs and wears dirty old clothes implies luck that does not match his cheery demeanour. The chemistry between him and Mary Poppins is left understated and can never be addressed. There's no time for it, the children are more important. Poppins has to leave them, too, whatever her umbrella might insist her true feelings are. I'm not sure the sense of sacrifice would be much felt at all if it weren't for the Sherman Brothers' work.

Walt Disney. who died a few years after Mary Poppins was released, had a particular fondness for "Feed the Birds". Richard Sherman himself explains:

X Sonnet #1847

The scavenged ones'll add to make a new.
To-morrow dogs replace the cats at work.
Refuting chalk excludes the stub of blue.
It's only now the monkey ghost'll lurk.
Select informants crushed the metal can.
In time, the bars constrict about the eye.
No glasses kept the sight from living man.
A string of words conformed to cast the die.
Controlling motion cons the eye when wide.
To see the squishy beans, traverse the rocks.
His car departs the solid mountain side.
There something sad about the heavy socks.
As blackened clouds deform for magic fun,
A weird and wistful herald's life is done.