FANTASIA OBSCURA: A Magical Angela Lansbury Provides a Little Light in Disney’s Dark Age
There are some fantasy, science fiction, and horror films that not every fan has caught. Not every film ever made has been seen by the audience that lives for such fare. Some of these deserve another look, because sometimes not every film should remain obscure.
Sometimes, you got to wonder if you should have gone with ‘Plan B’ first…
Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971)
Distributed by: Walt Disney Pictures
Directed by: Robert Stevenson
We’ve seen films so far talk a lot about the connections of witches to the ‘Dark Ages,’ whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. To some extent, what we’re going to look at is considered tied to its own specific ‘Dark Age,’ the period at the Walt Disney Company in between Walt Disney and Michael Eisner.
And much like that other Dark Age, this name for the time wasn’t entirely accurate, either…
We open, after watching a set of credits done to suggest the Bayeux Tapestry, on the south coast of England. We’re informed via on-screen legend that it’s August, 1940, with England preparing to face the Germans across the Channel.
We know that the Blitz is going on mainly through the evacuation of children from targeted cities, in particular the three Rawlins children from London, eldest Charlie (Ian Weighill in his only acting role), middle child Carrie (Cindy O’Callaghan) and youngest Paul (Roy Snart in his only acting role). These three have ended up in the seaside village of Pepperinge Eye in Kent, where they are picked up for relocation by Miss Eglatine Price (Angela Lansbury), who’s not all that keen on having these three with her; as the kids would rather be back in London, the feeling’s mutual.
It’s not that Miss Price really hates kids, no. The main reason she’s not anxious to have them around is because of her ongoing studies to become a witch via a correspondence school (how they used to do distance learning before the Internet). When she gets her three kids, it just happened to be on the day she was in town to pick up a package: Her school had informed her that she was now an apprentice witch, and for achieving that they sent her a broomstick.
Her first efforts to master flying on a broom, unfortunately, shows her and us how bad she’d be at Quidditch, but she gets spotted by the kids, who were trying to make a run for home. Charlie decides they should stay, and use their knowledge to blackmail the witch. Which proves to be a terrible idea, as you should never try and threaten anyone who can turn you into a rabbit…
And as for her pursuit of magic, her motives are pure: She knows she has a talent for it, and hopes to be able to use it for the good of the country in this crisis. She’s willing to let the kids in on her private Bletchley Park because, deep down, no one here is really awful, which is common in a Disney film.
Even the worst of people have some redeeming values. Take Professor (not really) Emelius Browne (David Tomlinson), the man who runs the correspondence course. Before the final spell in the class could be sent to Miss Price, Browne sends her a note that the school has closed. Anxious for her spell, she gifts Paul with a magic bedknob, which when used properly allows him to use the bed as a conveyance, moving through space like a family-friendly version of the Star Gate from 2001.
When we find Browne, we see he’s a charlatan and confidence man, doing any hustle he can to grift through the war. One of these was running a fake school for witchcraft via the post, a scam that he’s amazed actually produced a real witch. We find that his shady scheme came about from Browne having his hands on the spell book of an enchanter named Astaroth (who we’re never told if he’s any relation to the Duke of Hell of that name), and that he was selling quotes from the book to any sucker willing to write in for lessons.
As we said, Browne has redeeming values, and once he realizes what’s going on, he is more than willing to assist Miss Price in finding the final spell. This takes them to Portobello Market, an encounter with fellow spell-questor the Bookman (Sam Jaffe) and his henchman Swinburne (Bill Forsyth), and a trip to the magical island of Namboobu, where anthropomorphic animals speak and dress well in clothes like ours.
Their quest is successful, and well-timed as well. They need the spell, which animates common objects to move by themselves, which they hope will be helpful to repel a German raiding party that comes ashore by U-boat. But will it be enough to run the Wehrmacht back to the water…?
(Insert Surf Nazis Must Die joke here…)
And if that sounds like a lot, yes, it is. Originally the film had a run time of 141 minutes, but in order that the movie could have its first run at Radio City Music Hall in 1971, the venue insisted that 23 minutes be cut from the film, and Disney, not in a position to stand up to Radio City, was forced to bow to the more prominent entity.
Must. Resist. Obvious. Comment…
And unfortunately, watching the film in its original released version (as opposed to the semi-restored version released in 1996), you can see the leftover blood and scabs where the film was cut. Scenes that felt that they should have played longer, such as the Portobello Road segment, give the film a jarring feeling as you try and follow the rhythm of the plot before it gets kicked aside suddenly for the sake of getting things moving. Which is a shame, as other than its pacing issues it actually works as a fantasy film, with a decent cast and crew handling the material well.
But things could have gone a lot differently for this production, had Walt Disney had to give up on his original plan:
During the early 1960s, when Disney was actively pursuing the rights to Mary Poppins, he optioned the rights to Mary Norton’s first two works, The Magic Bed Knob and Bonfires and Broomsticks. His plan was to have these books to fall back on in case P. L. Travers adamantly refused his charm offense to get the rights to her works. Pre-production started on the Norton project, which was slated to be directed by Stevenson, with animation overseen by Ward Kimball and songs from Richard and Robert Sherman, the same crew that ultimately shifted their efforts to Poppins when Travers consented.
With Walt’s original plan going forward, the notes for the adaptation of Norton’s books were put in storage, but revived after Walt passed away as the studio looked for anything to keep the pump primed. Most of the production crew for Poppins was reassembled for this one as well, in part to recapture some of the magic from the days Walt was alive, hoping that doing the same thing again would be just as successful.
And at any other time, they might have succeeded. But 1971 was not 1964, and releasing a formulaic film for the whole family at that particular time was not a winning strategy, as evidenced by Roger Ebert’s original review. The film’s aged a lot better than you might expect, and even the original release cut is pleasant enough to watch these days. And had Walt gone with this one in 1964 instead of Mary Poppins, this might have gotten a lot higher on others’ lists of popular Disney productions.
And having to go with your second choice need not be considered the lesser by comparison. Case in point: Mary Norton never revisited these characters after 1957, concentrating on her series started with The Borrowers, and never regretted going with her second choice…
NEXT TIME: We continue Season of the Witch with an entirely different kind of magic, the kind that comes from a fantastic, brilliant genre novel being adapted by some spectacular genre talents…
