Saving Mr. Banks movie review (2013)

The movie focuses on two weeks in 1961. That is when the aggressively charming Walt Disney (Tom Hanks, conveying both the Hollywood icon's boyish sense of wonder and iron-fisted resolve) entered the final stages of a 20-year pursuit of P.L. Travers (Emma Thompson, perfectly cast in every way down to her tightly wound perm), the Australian-born British female author behind the flying nanny, to secure the film rights to her book.

Now that sales of her work are slowing, the cash-strapped writer is encouraged by her agent to seriously consider Disney's offer, and the mogul is eager to finally seal the deal as he beckons the London-based writer to his Burbank, Calif., domain. But Travers wants the agreement on her own persnickety terms. The back-and-forth wooing that ensues amid splendidly retro '60s décor and fashions will prove irresistible for anyone who grew up under the influence of Uncle Walt's cultural sway—except, perhaps, those for whom the very idea of Disney present celebrating Disney past sounds like an infomercial from hell.  

"Mrs. Travers," as she preferred to be called, is in a tizzy of disdain from the moment the L.A. sunshine hits her perpetually frowning face. Taking in the California air, she tells her chauffeur (Paul Giamatti in non-sadsack mode for once), "It smells like…" He smilingly suggests, "Jasmine?" "No," she continues. "Chlorine. And sweat." Her mood only grows more despondent when she enters her posh suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel and discovers that it has been festooned in the manner of a child's birthday party, complete with cakes and candy, balloons, fruit baskets and countless stuffed animals based on Disney characters. Travers forlornly glances at a cuddly Winnie the Pooh and exclaims, "Poor A.A. Milne." The giant Mickey Mouse that graces her bed is dispatched to a corner with a warning: "Stay there until you learn the art of subtlety."

The plush critters get off easy compared to how Travers treats the talent in charge of translating her beloved authority figure into an adored movie character. Imagine Maggie Smith's imperious Dowager Countess on "Downton Abbey" crossed with Godzilla. Stomping onto the studio lot, Travers insists on changes that range from innocuous (switching the name of the mother of Mary Poppins' wee charges from Cynthia to Winifred) to insulting (she rails against the use of any "silly cartoons," a phrase that visibly pains Disney) to the impossibly outlandish ("No color red in the film—at all!").