We’ve been watching a lot of Mary Poppins around our house lately. It was a favorite of mine when I was a child, but I’ve only now become struck by how political a film it is. The over-arching narrative of aloof, self-absorbed parents seeing the light and reconnecting with their children is both obvious and common, but it has some surprising messages for adult takeaway scattered among the magic and musical entertainment.

Pro-capitalism, personal responsibility and personal achievement: Mr. Banks expresses a certain amount of anger (of the kind most humans feel and express when it is pointed out to them that they are not behaving correctly) at the upsetting of his proscribed world by Mary Poppins, then is disgraced and fired from his position at the bank, but once he has learned the lesson that his children and their development are more important than money, he is restored to the rightful place at the bank in recognition of his hard work and achievement, as well as in recognition of the lessons his bosses have themselves learned about the important things in life. He will be a more well-rounded human being and a happier one in adding to, rather than subtracting from or replacing completely, his previous life.

Anti-feminism or at least anti-childish forms of protest: Mrs. Banks leads a dual life as a featherbrained suffragette and a completely submissive wife (”Ellen, put these [protest materials] away, you know how the cause infuriates Mr. Banks”). Her main form of interaction with her children is an occasional run of interference for them with their father. The writers’ benign contempt of her political activities is seen in the way she palms off the care of her children in order to go to Downing Street “to throw things at the Prime Minister” or to dash off to lead “our gallant ladies in prison” in song. Her transformation is more symbolic than her husband’s: The pageant banners she and her fellow suffragettes wear are sacrificed as kite-tails in the closing “family quality time” scene.

There is a danger in hanging too much political message on a piece of light entertainment; the objective of a happy ending alone is almost enough to explain these details away, but the “almost” makes it intriguing. These messages appear to come from the screenwriters rather than from the original Mary Poppins books by P.L. Travers; though it’s been a while since I read them, the emphasis was more on the fantastic nature of Mary Poppins and her acquaintances, the theme more along the lines of “magical nanny makes household run smoothly and everybody happier” rather than teaching the parents to create this outcome themselves. And if I am misremembering somewhat, the mistake is slight: If the objective were to teach the family to help themselves, there would not be such a long string of sequels with titles like Mary Poppins Comes Back. Though the film, written by Bill Walsh and Don DaGradi of many other Disney classics like Bedknobs and Broomsticks and Blackbeard’s Ghost, does a fine job of visually creating the magic of the central character Travers envisioned, Disney’s Mary Poppins combines a familiar set of lessons with a less common set of details that make it interesting and possibly downright anathema to feminists and anti-capitalists. To which I say, more power to ya, Mary.

Chalk X-Men 3 up to the board of movies I have to forget ever existed. Heck, might just roll back over X2 as well.

I’m watching Moonlight, that vampire show with Jason Dohring in a supporting role (for anyone whose brain is so full up with characters that she forgets the actors’ names, that means Logan’s in it) and Sophia Myles, David Tennant’s girlfriend (sob), as the female lead. The Whedonesquers were outraged upon first hearing of it, since a vampire P.I. is a disrespectful ripoff of one of their cancelled sacred cows. Ace and Petitedov both turned up their noses at it, and they have a point about some of the writing and some of the acting–but it’s the “some” that makes it interesting. If you keep yourself thinking “noir” instead of “wooden,” it really starts to work. The lead actor, Alex O’Loughlin, is pretty slick in a dry, straight-on D.B. Sweeney kind of way that I enjoy, and come on, how could anybody not love this exchange:

Girl Who’s Just Been Attacked: “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

Beth, whose apartment it is, hearing thumping and hollering from the bathroom: “I think Mick wanted to talk to him alone.”

***

Disgusting Bad Guy, chained to the bathroom sink after being roughed up a little: “You can’t do this. I have rights.”

Mick, Kick-Ass Vampire P.I.: “Yeah? You broke into a private home. I have the right to shoot you. I’m still considering that option.”

DBG: “You’re not a cop.”

Mick: “That’s right, so I don’t have to fill out paperwork in triplicate when I kick your ass again.”

See? Even Dawn Summers would like that. Oh yeah, no more TV for her, though.

I haven’t quite decided yet whether it hurts or helps that the show shares a producer with Veronica Mars and bears a strong affinity to it in terms of sets (Mick’s apartment is basically Duncan and Logan’s room in the Neptune Grand, and Mick’s office is more or less Keith’s) and even callbacks (a murdered girl from the pilot was a student at Hearst College). It’s nice but also a little melancholy, although I admit Chuck is helping me get over Veronica in record time.

Anyway, guilty pleasure it may be, but a few hack lines here and there don’t stop the plots from being fairly well wound and properly sprung. It’s about as different from Angel as any show about a vampire P.I. could reasonably be expected to be. And because I’m a sucker for the love story, kudos to the writers for not pulling the now overused “put ‘em together then break ‘em up quick” method of having cake and eating it too–they’re taking it comparatively slow and letting that part of it play out over time.

It certainly holds its own for a Friday night show.

**SPOILERS** for Enchanted below.

When I heard of the premise of Enchanted, in which a Disney cartoon princess becomes transmuted into real-life New York City, I thought it would be dumb. Then I saw a preview and could not stop laughing. The movie lived up to the trailers’ promise–funny and as good a romantic comedy as any I’ve seen in a long while. Amy Adams and Patrick Dempsey are fantastic as the leads, walking a very difficult line between unbelievable (as in what guy could ever accept a woman coming from nowhere and acting like Disney’s Snow White into his NYC apartment?) and totally credible (and if he did, how could he help falling in love with her?). The movie is deft in accomplishing this–we are willing to forgive logistics non-sequiturs like the villain suddenly appearing as a hot-dog vender or a restaurant waiter attempting to poison Adams’s Giselle merely because that’s how it’s done in the classic cartoons, but give an appreciative nod to Dempsey’s Robert taking the precaution of having his daughter come to his room to sleep for the night because he’s letting a total stranger stay on his couch. A highly realistic thread is Robert’s struggle between his feelings for Giselle and his resistance to their fairy-tale quality and his engagement to a woman he doesn’t love so much, out of his sense of realism and a lurking fear that he must do this for the sake of his daughter’s motherless state–Dempsey conveys all this on his face and in his eyes, finally put to very good use after a few years of dogging hapless Meredith Grey on television. And it is notable that he does not step up to give Giselle The Kiss of True Love, even at the point of her possible death, until released from his former promise by the grating but ultimately goodwilled fiancee. This Austen-esque sense of duty and honor is compelling and, like many other touches, brings a lovely gravity to the movie’s light-hearted hilarity.

When I saw James Marsden as the cartoon Prince Edward, I had a fleeting thought of “I’ve see him before” and flashed a little on Ally McBeal, but still didn’t truly put it together until I saw the credits–he was so convincing and so far out of the last role I’d seen him in, as Cyclops in X-Men, that it was startling. Susan Sarandon gives a suitably evil performance as evil stepmother/wicked queen/poison-apple hag, and Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz put their long-honed Disney songwriting skills to wickedly funny use, as in Giselle’s housecleaning song that calls all available New York animals and gamely rallies after discovering they’re all “vermin.” And a cameo by The Little Mermaid herself, Jodi Benson, wraps it all up into a nice self-parodying package that manages at the same time to give out a big dose of warm-hearted joy.

Woven of two levels–obvious enough that any little girl who’s ever watched a Disney movie will understand the humor but grown-up enough for adults to enjoy the romance and ridiculous situations–this movie is very well done on a premise that could have proved far more difficult.

Of House. I wouldn’t usually bother to review a single episode of anything, but this is so egregious I can’t let it pass. When it’s obvious that in addition to a farcical plot with no redeeming humor value, the writer in question, apparently Thomas L. Moran, is writing all the roles so completely out of character and on the nose that it’s like he’s never even seen an episode, it warrants comment. House is satirical, not blatant. He’s sarcastic, not infantile. He’s blunt, not obvious. And don’t get me started on the supporting characters.

Since this must be a fluke, as it’s the first episode even remotely close to bad in a four-season run, I’ll skip the joke about how maybe it’s a good thing the WGA is on strike. This episode would be enough to put me off if it weren’t House.

Update: NOOOOOOOOOO. This show needs Michael Michele like it needs a hole in the head. Too much shake-up too fast, and we don’t need a competing face and name. Hugh Laurie is the show here. She jars. I hope it’s temporary.

Chuck. Hands down. Funny hourlong with a bit of real love story among its satirized action, not sitcom-funny, tall goofy-cute geek lead, short annoying-funny sidekick, and in my rundown of promising cast for this year’s shows, how in the hell did I keep forgetting about I’ll-Be-In-My-Bunk Baldwin? (As an update, Private Practice and Big Shots are both well out the window at this point, and the other two are stacking up on TiVo. Slim pickings this year.)

P.S., Dawn Summers, the show is a parody. And a pretty sharp one at that. I bet you don’t like Weird Al Yankovic, either.

HOUSE IS BACK!!

You’d need caps too if you spent your last few weeks of summer slogging tortuously through last season’s Heroes. I’ve never seen a show with less consistency of characters, less explanation for events, or less emotional impact for more effort put in. First Peter learns to control his abilities, then he suddenly can’t control the nuclear thing. First Nathan hops on board with his elders’ preposterous plan to allow a foreseen nuclear event in New York with some vague and unlikely scenario of the “world being healed” to follow. I think I know what kind of nuts the writers were smoking in that pipe, if you know what I mean, and yup, it turns out it’s just as crazy as it sounds with Truthers say it. Then Nathan suddenly has an unexplained change of heart and swoops in to save the day. People dead left and right, and we don’t even care. Except Sylar. I would be very grateful if I never had to look at him again. Alas.

Am I the only one who noticed that “save the cheerleader” didn’t have any direct connection whatsoever to “save the world?” It might have if Claire had been the one to pull the trigger on Peter. As it was, what did it matter if she was there or not?

Bad writing. Bad show. Perfectly decent acting that really makes me hate the characters, but if there are too many characters to hate, why do you watch at all?

Don’t even get me started on Niki/Jessica/D.L./Micah. It’s a big word, but say it with me anyway: Ex-tra-ne-ous. I’ve never seen a more uselessly irritating set of characters.

I made it all the way through the season, so I’ll watch long enough to see what they do with La Bell. After that I’m gone.

Because in case you missed it before, House is back and every bit as good as ever.

And yeah, I know Dancing with the Stars is back too. They are pushing the outer limits of my tolerance with this multiple-nights-per-week schtick. Two was enough and more than. I’ll get around to it, but sorry, ABC, not tonight … House was on.

For me, I mean. Calm down.

I finally caught up to the bandwagon and saw Order of the Phoenix last week. While it was indeed better than most of the films that have gone before, the thing is, that’s not saying much. I’ve never seen any film get less out of a bigger group of truly amazing talents than the Potter movies do. I understand the primary difficulties of transforming reaonably complicated books into movies, but I no longer feel at all interested in paying $9 to watch the filmmakers tick book events off a list without working them to best emotional advantage–”Now the Dursleys do their schtick; now Umbridge tries to throw out Trelawney; now Dumbledore saves the day.” And poor Dumbledore indeed–Michael Gambon simply can’t cut it. Given the direction for the rest of the cast, I’m not sure it’s entirely his fault, but he exudes no Dumbledore charisma whatsoever. It’s too bad.

Go rent this movie now before I get to the end, as I frequently become disillusioned at the ends of movies that were great until they ended wrong.

That’s about the tenth line I’ve wanted to quote to somebody else. This is the sharpest dialogue I’ve heard in months. When it first came out, though, I remember reading a poor review. I don’t remember where or by whom, but I’m thinking … moron.

Update: I’m stunned. It did not end wrong, an even more remarkable achievement because there were several ways it could have ended wrong, not just the one. Bravo.

Heroes is still pretty bad. If I make it through last season, I’m not sure I can take any more even for Kristen Bell.

In whose head was it a good idea to try to mix “traits” that could plausibly, however improbably, be explained by genetics with the clearly paranormal and outright fantasy? Spontaneous regeneration, telekinesis, and empathic mind reading/control are within the limits of plausibility. Multiple-personality disorder is highly uninteresting as a “heroic” trait when it exists in reality and they didn’t even bother to make her/them good guys at all. Peter’s absorbing the traits of whoever he’s around is completely implausible in the genetic explanation, and Sylar’s being able to absorb them by … looking at? eating? dissecting? their brains is just a dumb excuse for the macabre.

Masi Oka, though, is fabulous and multi-talented: He was a digital artist at Industrial Light and Magic. Wow. Say what I will about the Lucas films that shall not be named, there were some talented people in the effects department.

I’ve been wondering whether to see it or not, given that I’ve thought most of the other Harry Potter movies were pretty bad. Survey of PetiteDov says: Order of the Phoenix better than the rest and yes, Helena Bonham Carter is still crazy after all these years. Very well then. See it I shall.

Update: Speaking of Helena Bonham Carter, her grandmother was Violet Bonham Carter, née Violet Asquith, daughter of a WWI prime minister and close friend of Winston Churchill. Which I think is pretty cool.

David Tennant, I think you’re the best thing ever in my limited experience of British TV, even including Hugh Laurie, but your show done broke my heart for the second season finale in a row.

**SPOILERS** for Doctor Who S3 after the jump. (more…)

This movie will make you cackle.