The Englishman and I sat down to watch Saving Mr. Banks on Saturday afternoon. We weren't very far into the story when we realized it wasn't quite what we were expecting. Generally, we read up about a film before watching, but because I am a huge fan of both Emma Thompson and Tom Hanks, I just assumed I would enjoy it. That's not exactly how it turned out.
The few clips I had seen over the past couple of months led me to believe this would be a somewhat light hearted film. It did have its moments, but overall, it was not a pleasant viewing experience for me. While the acting was wonderful on the part of everyone in the cast, the storyline itself was, well, somewhat depressing. At least that's how it felt to me.
It did, however, bring forth a forgotten memory, which instantly brought tears to my eyes.
After my college graduation, my parents took my sister and I on a three week driving vacation. We left New Jersey, traveled across the Midwest, and stopped for a few days in Iowa to see my brother, his wife and young son. We then set off for Colorado, drove north to Wyoming, through South Dakota and eventually found our way home. I could write a book about that trip, but I mention it merely to explain the memory the above film brought to mind.
Now, this trip was back in "the old days," long before there were iPods or iPhones and the like to listen to in order to pass the time while cruising through endless corn fields or climbing mountain tops in my Dad's Cadillac. This was still the age of the tape deck - specifically cassette tapes. And since my Dad had only brought along about five cassettes, including Dion Warwick and the soundtrack from Mary Poppins, there wasn't exactly much to choose from. I'm sure it would come as no surprise then that by the end of the three weeks, my parents, sister and I knew every single word to every single song that was on those tapes.
And so, when the song writing characters in the film started to play for "Mrs. Travers" a new tune they had written, I found myself immediately back in that old car, watching my Dad moving his left hand in time to the song as he drove, singing along with the rest of us -
"Lets go fly a kite, up to the highest heights, let's go fly a kite and send it soaring...."
It was an unexpected gift that for just a moment, I was transported back in time and could so clearly see, in my mind's eye, the scene as it was then. While I didn't enjoy the overall film on Saturday, the precious memory it evoked more than made up for the disappointment in the story.
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