It was a dreary, foggy evening. The ground was still wet from a fresh rain. Nothing too abnormal for London. A wealthy banker walked the empty streets alone. He was dressed in his customary suit, top hat, and cane. He never left the house without them for fear that he wouldn’t be recognized.
To the untrained eye, it may appear that he was just out for a leisurely stroll. But there was a purpose behind this weeknight outing. He was on his way to work well after hours. He was just called in by the head of the bank and the board of trustees, who requested an immediate meeting with him.
He knew exactly what this meant. He was being sacked.
Banking was his life. He loved money, and the prestige of wealth. This drove him to devote his entire life to his career. All other pursuits were a waste of time – including his family. A sacrifice, yes, but a worthy one. Just look at the benefits. He had a large house in a nice neighborhood, and could provide anything his wife or children could have ever dream of. All thanks to his devotion to banking.
It was his life. His entire identity. And he was about to lose it all.
He walked the streets alone, contemplating everything that led to this point. He felt alone. Scared. He didn’t know how he could go on. His life as he knew it was about to end.
He was a dead man walking.
This is one of the most pivotal moments in Walt Disney’s masterpiece, Mary Poppins. Not only that, but it’s one of the most important scenes in cinema history.
Ok…maybe not.
But it was a life changing moment for a young boy in Texas.
I’ll explain later. But first, let’s break down this scene.
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It’s a simple sequence. We follow Mr. Banks from Cherrytree Lane to the Fidelity Fiduciary Bank. He walks the barren streets alone. He passes many beautiful English Baroque matte paintings buildings on his way – including the St. Paul’s Cathedral that Mary Poppins mentioned in “Feed the Birds.” He eventually reaches the bank, which appropriately dwarfs him as he makes his way up its stairs.
And that’s it. It’s a short sequence; not even two and a half minutes. It could very easily be overlooked. After all, it’s just some shots of everyone’s least favorite character walking to work. But if you look deeper than its face value, it’s one of cinema’s most beautiful sequences.
To start, every element in this sequence is perfect. From the shot choices, to the familiar cue from “Feed the Birds” – that’s somehow both hopeful and foreboding – to David Tomlinson’s brilliant performance, conveying Mr. Banks’ despair without ever uttering a single syllable. The cinematography, score, writing, and acting all work harmoniously to convey the weight of what is about to happen.
The incredible thing about this sequence is how intimate it feels, despite its lack of intimacy. We can feel Mr. Banks’ despair by the environment around him. Nearly the entire sequence is shot in wide shots; there’s only one closeup (but what a closeup it is). And yet, it feels so intimate. The director relies on the other aforementioned elements of the scene to convey Mr. Banks’ emotion. He feels small, so we see wide shots of massive London buildings towering over him. He feels alone, so the camera is kept far away from him. His life feels dark, and he doesn’t know what lies ahead, so the scene takes place at night and is lit with blues and purples that magnificently compliment the night fog of London. This sequence is an incredible example to young filmmakers like myself that you don’t need to rely on closeups and emotional performances for an audience to feel what a character feels.
But the crowning achievement of this short, fourteen-shot sequence comes in its second shot. It’s a simple, static shot of Mr. Banks walking away from camera. He walks through the park where Bert does his pavement drawings – where Jane and Michael spent the day in one of his drawings. The park is empty and sparsely lit, and Mr. Banks walks toward a wall of fog on the other side.
The director chose to hold on Mr. Banks for fourteen seconds. On the surface, this may seem like an odd choice, as the only movement in the shot is Mr. Banks walking away from frame. It may seem this shot lacks emotion because we can’t see his face. In actuality, this is perhaps the most emotional shot in the entire film.
Mr. Banks’ future is one giant question mark. He has no idea what his future holds. In that vein, we, the audience, don’t know what lies on the other side of the fog – it’s too thick. But Mr. Banks has no choice but to press on to what lies on the other side. This, combined with the score and other cinematographic elements in the frame, make this simple, shot one of the greatest in cinema history.
But I’m biased. Because this shot changed my life.
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I don’t remember how old I was when I first watched Mary Poppins. This movie has always been a part of my life. My mom absolutely (and rightly) adores this film, so she made sure to show it to me as early as possible. And I can’t ever thank her enough for it.
You see, before Mary Poppins, movies and TV were just pictures and sound to me. Like any young child, I was enamored by the colors, the sound, the visuals, etc. It kept me still so my mom could rest.
But that all changed for me one day as I watched this beautiful scene from this beautiful movie. For the first time ever, I wasn’t just watching a movie; I was feeling it.
I could feel Mr. Banks’ pain. Being so young, I obviously couldn’t articulate everything I’ve written so far, but I always subconsciously knew and understood the weight of this scene and the beauty of that shot of him walking through the park.
From the moment I first saw that scene, I realized movies and TV were so much more than just something to binge after a long day. They didn’t have to require you to turn off your brain. They were something that could convey emotion and meaning to people. And my life has never been the same.
And that’s one of the reasons I decided to start this blog.
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I’d be lying if I said my life has gone how I planned.
I’m 27, (hopelessly) single, and still trying to figure out my place in this world. I believe God has called me to work in television. I’ve always been drawn to the idea of being a showrunner. I’ve spent the last decade chasing that goal, but I’ve had very limited success so far.
That’s not to say I’m not working in TV. I just started a full-time position on a talk show. I love my job and the people I work with. I thank God for it constantly. But I still feel as if He’s called me to work as a showrunner on a scripted show.
Eventually.
At least, I hope. I’ve been hoping for the better part of a decade now. And the fact that I haven’t gotten anywhere close to that goal is frustrating.
As is life as a Christian. Promise, wait. Promise, wait.
The hardest part of letting the Holy Spirit lead you is the waiting. But that’s another blog for another time.
I bring all that up because I need a creative outlet. I need somewhere where I can get my thoughts on visual art out. And I need to force myself to be creative on a more regular basis.
(And I don’t have the experience/talent to create visual essays, so this was the next best option. Writing’s more my forté, anyway.)
You see, I used to practice screenwriting every afternoon. I did that for nearly two years, growing & honing my craft, & even beginning to find my voice. But through a series of circumstances I won’t go into here, I’ve fallen off the wagon. It’s been roughly 4 months since I last tried writing on a consistent basis. Hopefully, through this blog, I can strengthen that muscle again.
This isn’t easy for me. I am very insecure about expressing myself. Case in point, I’ve started and stopped writing this at least a dozen times. I’ve been meaning to start this blog for months. Part of that is procrastination; most of it is fear.
Now, I have no misconceptions of my analytical prowess. I’m not under any delusions that this blog will be anything groundbreaking. This is just a creative avenue for me to get my thoughts about film and television out. Nothing more. You may see my opinions as asinine or juvenile. And that’s okay. Absolutely no disrespect intended – this blog isn’t for you; it’s for me.
That’s why I need to do this. Whether ten people read this or ten thousand, I just need this outlet to express myself.
So how’s all this gonna work? If I’m being honest, I’m not really sure. I have some ideas, but nothing super concrete yet. (Except for a series I’m planning to do recapping the decade. Be on the lookout for that in January!) For right now, I’m planning to write about the movies and shows that mean the most to me or stir up something in me. Or both.
Most of my knowledge is in visual art (‘cause, ya know, that’s what I’m trained and educated in), but I’m not counting out talking about other topics, like music and religion. I care very much about those areas, and they each play an important part in my daily life. If y’all are willing to indulge someone who’s not an expert in those fields, you might see a blog here or there about them. But my main focus will be film and TV, what I think about them, and how my faith plays a roll in how I interpret them.
That’s the plan, anyway.
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Whew. Ok.
I know that was a lot to digest. I don’t really have anything to add, so I guess that’s a good place to stop.
If you read all the way to the end, thank you. Truly. It really means a lot.
And if you didn’t, I’m not mad. Just disappointed.
lol jk (Did I use that right? Am I cool now?)
In all seriousness, I hope you’ll come on this journey with me. I don’t really know what it’s gonna look like or where it’ll take me, but I can’t wait to go on it with you.
HUGE thank you to my good friend Katie for the amazing artwork! She’s incredibly talented, & you should give her a follow on Instagram.
If you’re curious to see what I’m watching, follow me on Letterboxd.
Matt Peterson 