Emily Blunt Carries Mary Poppins Returns, in the Most Delightful Way

Mary Poppins Returns begins with the most whimsical of ironies: a lamplighter (played by Lin-Manuel Miranda) jauntily bicycling around London and brightly singing about the citys famed skies. The cute joke, of course, is that Londons skies are often gray and not terribly pretty, especially back in the coal-belching, Depression-era industrial days when the film is set. What a happy delusion, a merry little air about the beauty of a place, at a time of such grime and crisis, as economic horror gripped millions and war loomed on the horizon.

Thats about as far as director Rob Marshall gestures toward the realities of the outside world. Mary Poppins Returns mainly focuses in close on the Banks family, grown-up Michael (Ben Whishaw) and his sister, Jane (Emily Mortimer), and a new generation of moppets, Michaels three precocious children. Michaels wife has died and hes about to lose the familys stately townhome, putting the family in a messy muddle of anxiety and melancholy.

Who better to fix such a problem—or, rather, to sneakily coax the Bankses to fix on their own—than one airborne governess named Poppins? Shes played this time by Emily Blunt, perhaps the most consistently charming actor working today and exactly the right person to take the umbrella from Julie Andrews. Blunt is deferent to the original, while also making things her own. She tidily marches into the picture—well, first she glides into it—with an unquestioned confidence, not born of ego but rather of a British determination to get the job done.

Blunts Mary is a bit sharp; theres something maybe almost, almost sinister about her magic. (Which, of course, she insists isnt magic at all.) But that suits the times, both of the film and our own era. A Mary that was too sugary might seem out of place in an era of irony and unease. Not that the film does much to trouble its audience—this is firmly, contentedly a childrens film, with barely any of those trendy “one for grown-ups” jokes that have taken over so much of PG-rated filmmaking. Theres plenty of winking, but its almost all for the kids.

Those youngsters, so steeped in C.G.I., may be a bit confused when the film goes to hand-drawn animation for an extended sequence. In a film entirely made up of, and thats a testament to, unnecessary diversions, this one stands out as the most successful. Possibly because it honors the lower-fi looks of the original, or because Blunt gets to do a little song-and-dance routine that shows her at her game and winsome best. The animation is cozily familiar for those who grew up on similar aesthetics, and is whizzing and dynamic enough to likely keep little ones enrapt.

Otherwise, Marshalls film is an overstuffed toy chest of computer-crafted visuals—busy but smoothed, its gleaming artifice proving a little alienating. Children are probably more comfortable dwelling in the realm of the fantastic, but from my wizened perspective, the films version of make-believe is a bit cold. I wanted more practical settings and textures, more to grab onto beyond Blunts radiant appeal. Especially when Mary is curiously pushed to the sidelines for the latter half of the film.

Meryl Streep shows up for a song, doing some kind of Slavic accent. Her presence in the film feels like a perfunctory blessing, an accommodating professional doing her Into the Woods collaborators a solid by giving them a little “yoo-hoo” cameo. Her song is a zany approximation of the sort of nonsense tunes with a sly message that were a hallmark of childrens musicals for a long time, but is also instantly forgettable.

Thats the problem with much of the music in Mary Poppins Returns. The melodies are pleasant, the sentiments worthy, the verbiage dexterous. But it all blurs together into one ill-defined mass, nothing distinct enough (besides, I suppose, that opening number) to stick out. Miranda, who honors Dick Van Dyke by doing a chewily bad Cockney accent, gets another big showcase number with “Trip a Little Light Fantastic,” which should be a showstopper but sadly falls short. The rest of Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittmans tunes are hazy in my memory—and have been that way since about 30 minutes after I saw the movie.

What lingers of Mary Poppins Returns is Blunts winningly efficient performance; Whishaw and Mortimers mousy sweetness; Julie Walters doing a delightfully huffy turn as the Bankss housemaid, Ellen. Theres plenty of fine work here, built with an earnestness sturdy enough to keep the chilly creepy of Disney hegemony at bay. (Mostly.)

By the films joyful and buoyant finale—an almost manically cheery riot of balloons and powder blue sky—I had a tear in my eye, reluctantly moved by the films aggressive assertion of niceness and hope. Its all a bit blinkered, maybe, but why not let the kids figure that out later? The air will go out of the balloon eventually; the magic of Mary Poppins will leave us. For a moment, though, a lovely little drift toward better days proved perfectly welcome.

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Get Vanity Fairs HWD NewsletterSign up for essential industry and award news from Hollywood.Richard LawsonRichard Lawson is the chief critic for Vanity Fair, reviewing film, television, and theatre. He lives in New York City.