Saving Mr. Banks Page #3

I do think it's best.

I have the most practice.

Readings of my books, you know?

Absolutely.

Anyway. "Scene 1. Exterior.

"17 Cherry Tree Lane, London. Day. "

Yes, that's good. That can stay.

That's just the scene heading.

Although, I do think we should say

"Number 17," instead of just"17."

It's proper, yes?

No one's gonna see it.

I will see it.

Write it down.

Write it down. Chop, chop.

Is that on the tape? Have we got that?

Uh... Yes.

Very good. Onwards.

I'm sorry to interrupt.

Is that a joke?

Excuse me?

Do you think you are a comedienne?

I'm sorry, I don't understand.

Well, it's...

Unbelievable.

In the way.

Dolly, I think we're all set with food.

Thank you.

"Scene 1. Exterior.

"Number 17,

Cherry Tree Lane, London. Day. "

"Bert. a one-man. "

Oh, the rumor is

that this is to be your Mr. Van Dyke.

- Is that right?

- We do hope so.

Well, we'll see about that.

It's a horrid idea.

Dick is one of the greats.

Dick Van Dyke?

Yes.

Robert, my dear.

Olivier is one of the greats.

Burton, Guinness,

greats without question.

I can assure... I can assure you

that Dick Van Dyke is not.

Dick Van Dyke.

Uh... "Bert, a one-man band,

plays to a small gathering

"outside the gates to the park.

"Bert... Yes, Ben says... "

You can do Bert.

- Thank you. Um...

- Go on.

Guys, shall we

give it a whirl?

What's happening?

What are you doing?

"All right, ladies and gents,

"comical poem

"suitable for the occasion.

"Extemporized and thought up

before your very eyes.

"All right, here we go. "

Room here for everyone

Gather around

The Constable's responstable

Now, how does that sound?

No, no, no! No, no, no!

"Responstable"

is not a word.

We made it up.

Well, un-make it up.

"Responstable. "

There's my girl.

Here's a good boy. Come on.

That's it, Albert, give Ginty a smooch.

There you go. There you go.

Oh.

Poor old Albert.

He's your secret uncle, you know.

But a miserable' horrid witch

turned him into a nag.

Why did she do that?

She said she hated

the sound of his laugh.

Poor Uncle Albert.

Yeah.

How can we fix him?

We have to teach the witch

to be happy again.

How?

Well,

I'm not quite sure, darling.

Do you want to know

what it feels like to y, Ginty?

Come on. Albert, you old nag.

Come here.

Up you come.

Three, two, one.

- Do you trust me?

- Yes.

Nobody walks.

A leisurely stroll is a gift.

Beautiful, ain't it?

If you like that sort of thing.

I do.

We do find

it's helpful to have a visual.

Plus, it's fun.

Oh, no, no. No, no. Goodness me, no.

No?

The Banks' house

doesn't look like that. No, no.

Mmm-mmm.

My house is a terraced house

with a pink door, white-bricked,

with a crack in the gable.

Okay, we get it. The house

is not what you pictured.

The windows are lead-lined

and the ower boxes grow

pink nasturtiums to

go with the pink door.

Have we got that?

Oh, dear, it's all a big mistake.

It's all wrong.

It's all wrong?

Well, it's too grand!

The Banks are normal,

everyday sort of people,

and this isn't normal.

This isn't "everyday. "

They're not aristocrats.

OKEY-

Oh.

Do I even have to say it?

I'm afraid so.

Why in the world

have "you made Mrs. Banks

a silly suffragette?

I wonder if Emmeline P.

would agree with that adjective.

Quite possibly, looking back.

It does seem strange

that Mrs. Banks allows her kids

to spend all of their time with the nanny,

when she doesn't have a job to speak of.

Are you calling Mrs. Banks neglectful?

- Yep.

- No, of course not.

We just thought that giving her a job

would go some way to explain...

Being a mother is a job.

It's a very difficult job,

and one that not everyone is up to.

One that not everyone

should have taken on

in the first place.

And I won't have her called "Cynthia. "

Absolutely not. It feels...

It feels unlucky.

It needs to be something warm.

Something a bit, I don't know, sexy.

How about "Mavis"?

Uh...

- "Sybil"'?

- Great.

- "Prudence"?

- "Gwendolyn"?

- Perfect.

- "Winifred. "

"Winifred?" "Winifred. "

I could go with "Winifred. "

That's because it's very good.

This isn't Mr. Banks.

This isn't... This isn't him.

Uh, yes' that's Mr. Banks.

But he has a set of mustaches.

In the book, he has them.

I told the illustrator I did

not like the facial hair,

but she chose to ignore me.

Now this time around, this is my film,

and I shall have my way.

Mrs. Travers, this is

a specific request from Walt.

Why?

- Well, I think he identifies...

- He didn't, he doesn't.

Mr. Banks is clean-shaven.

Does it matter?

Bob...

Does it matter?

Bob...

You can wait outside.

I shan't say it again, Robert.

What is wrong with his leg?

He got shot.

That's hardly surprising.

Can I expect any more drama

from anyone else?

Why do you do that?

For you, my dear.

Tell me, Gintamina,

which kind of kisses do you prefer?

Scratchy ones, or silky ones?

Silky ones.

Well, then, swish!

Swoosh!

A man must shave for to spare

his daughter's cheeks.

Swish.

Swoosh.

Swoosh.

Supercalifragilistic-expialidocious

Stop! Stop! Stop!

What on earth are you talking about?

"Supercali... "? "Supercal... "?

Or whatever the infernal thing is.

It's something you say when

you don't know what to say.

Well, I always know what to say.

If you so much as step

one foot in here with that trolley,

I shall scream.

One cannot live on cake alone.

Well, hi! me with it.

She has a lot of ideas.

Yeah? What kind of ideas?

The name "Cynthia" has been

changed to "Winifred. "

Fine, fine, fine.

She won't approve Dick Van Dyke.

The sketches of the Banks house

make it look too opulent.

There must be no hint of romance

between Mary Poppins and Bert.

She wants to know why Mr. Banks

has been given a mustache.

Oh, I asked for that.

Yes, they told her that,

but she wants to know why.

Because I asked for it.

Right. Of course.

Uh, the tape measure

Mary Poppins uses

to record Jane and Michael's height

must be a roll tape, not a ruler.

She only wants

green vegetables and broth.

I don't know what that is,

but she wants it in the room

from now on.

And... Oh!

She doesn't want

the color red in the film.

At all.

I've simply gone off the color.

We can't make the picture

without the color red.

The film is set in London,

for Pete's sake.

And?

Well,

there's buses and mailboxes

and guards' uniforms and things.

And heck, the English ag.

I understand your predicament,

Mr. Disney, I do.

Uh, it's just...

I don't know what it is.

I'm suddenly very anti-red.

I sham be wearing it ever again.

Is this a test, Pamela?

Are you requiring proof

as to how much I want

to make you happy,

so we can create

this beautiful thing together?

I took you at your word, Mr. Disney.

And it seems my first

stipulation has been denied.

There will be many more.

So, perhaps we should just call it quits

and I should hand you back these.

All right.

No red in the picture.

- Walt.

- Walt!

Wait.

He doesn't have the rights.

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