Produced by and Co-Created by Cameron Mackintosh

Original Music & Lyrics by Richard M. Sherman & Robert M. Sherman

Book by Julian Fellowes, After P.L. Travers Original Stories

Review by Dominic Corr

Tickets from £25.00

In a world of stuffy, stunted, and bushy-browed bankers and men, the spontaneity of colour, frivolities, song, and wordplay comes with suspicions and insecurities. But none more so than the liberating agency of a steadfast, in-control woman: Mary Poppins – nanny to the Banks children, Jane and Michael, who spend much of their time terrorising the household in a desperate plea to spend more time with their father.

Following an opening night halt which took the winds ’blowing in’ a touch too literally, the delayed enrapture of Disney and Cameron Mackintosh’s Mary Poppins came with an additional tangibility for a stage spectacular that, while impressive and bold in stagecraft, is intimate and heartfelt in its details and consideration. An adventure to Cherry Tree Lane, now found in the heart of Edinburgh at the Festival Theatre, is a must for any and all – those who have forgotten to appreciate a chalk drawing or the life-giving smiles of a jig or song.

Where some adaptations somewhat stray from the celluloid path and dilute their origins, and others clamber so tightly to their roots that their existence becomes meritless, Mary Poppins is practically perfect in its toeing of the line of originality and respectful intent. Lovers of the 1964 film will appreciate the iconic designs and tweaked musical numbers with fondness, while the magnificent adaptations and inclusions that bring this story to the stage will capture the imaginations of anyone lucky enough to glimpse just some of the magic on display here. Cameron Mackintosh and Disney do the one thing they are faultless at; they cradle dreams and cast that charm to the stage – a spectacle of wonderment.

Cherry Tree Lane is lifted, almost literally, more so from the pages of P.L. Travers’ Poppins stories than Walt Disney’s incarnation; Bob Crowley’s scenic design an array of line drawings to emulate both page and animation, still coming together to pay tribute to both origins at work here. Practical and pleasing to see ignite with lashings of colour, Crowley’s costuming is often the source of warmth and impact on the stage – drawing focus to the performers, even amidst the spectacle around. And few of these costumes are as immediately iconic – as Mary Poppin’s red frock coat, armed with a parrot-head umbrella and perhaps a tiny soot-stain from those chimney tops.

Armed with the dry wit, poise, and pristine vocals to conjure a being of such flawless standing, Stefanie Jones captures one element of the role that audiences often overlook: the flash of control in Poppins eye. Never cruel or cowardly, Jones’ Poppins has no time for bullies, idleness, or false pleasantries but always has a moment for the genuine souls of this world, like Patti Boulaye’s magnificent Bird Woman, who breaks the tone of the show’s more eruptive energy and hues with a sombre, powerful number, that reminds all (who should be well aware by now) the magnificent live band accompanying these talented performers.

Jones, armed with a gorgeously controlled soprano, honed and controlled to deliver annunciation of the often well-worn and fantastical lyrics, can cut their moves in Poppins boots no-less, with the prominent ensemble roles which take a sharpness and precision one would expect from revered Matthew Bourne and Stephen Mear, supplying the choreography for such an ambitious piece which, quite literally, brings the movement up and off the stage walls and ceilings. Cutting a fine rug, with a damn-better accent than the legendary Dick Van Dyke could muster, Jack Chambers Bert plays a blinder as chimney sweeps Bert: heart-on-his sleeve and song on his lips. Physically, the comedy is precise and rolls, their movement sequences leading the long-awaited Chim Chim Cher-ee, but beneath the bluster and laughter, Chambers captures a supportive Bert, the only one to see that wink of ‘something’ beneath Poppin’s poise.

As much as the whimsy, charm, and saccharine moments of Mary Poppins may inhabit the hearts of children who gaze in wonderment at the physicality and enchantment on stage, largely thanks to Hugh Vanstone’s lighting or the illusion design – the redemption of Mr Banks, weighed down by his antiquated loyalties and blind sightedness to his family, is what drives the sentimentality of the story. And much rests in the near Basil Fawlty-esque eccentricities and mannerisms of Michael D. Xavier’s George Banks; elongated and 90% legs. But the old-fashioned nature is no match for Lucie-Mae Sumner’s as Winifred Banks; though tragically the show loses the Suffragette lacerations which Mrs Banks was famed for in the film, the ripples of the driven in heel, and the resilience behind the character are carried in Sumner’s vulnerability as a mother. An ostracised woman who flourishes with Julian Fellowe’s writing and the role’s agency – stealing scenes with knowing looks – often in silence, a more extensive comment than any drab or recycled line could muster.

Up the highest heights of anticipation and elation, Mary Poppins most magical moment, a finale few others can achieve, extends out to the topmost seats and offers every child in the theatre, no matter the ticket band price, the same experience for these defining links in a chain of memories forged this evening. No matter how extravagant the effects may be or how intensive the illusionary work is, choices like this capture the grounded validity of theatrical experience at its most treasured and honest. For some, Mary Poppins will make them feel like a kid again. And for the kids, it makes them feel like they’ve leapt into a storybook – a world where they can be seen, heard, appreciated, and be free to imagine in an experience which will stay with them for a lifetime.

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