Saving Mr. Banks

Today I am taking a brief hiatus from Olympic activity. Last night we braved a daunting MN winter night to catch Saving Mr. Banks at the bargain theaters. I figured since the car needed to be moved for snow emergency and a warm up would help, we should venture out. We were among only a handful of takers.

I am a huge Emma Thompson fan and was expecting a good piece. However, it was not the story I thought I would see. Previews pointed to much of the drama between Travers and Disney and only slightly alluded to the fatherly topic of Mr. Banks which is the driving force behind the entire film. Colin Farrell was brilliant in the flashback scenes, which were the catalyst for the story although he was not even in the trailer. Sort of an Oedipus complex where all characters had a patriarchal chip on their shoulders. Harbored resentments and old wounds. This all made it a much richer story in spite of Thompson's almost unlikeable role.

Then I came home and was scanning some vintage photos of my Dad for #tbt posting. Just by accident I stumbled onto many of them this week. Some I had seen, but others were in a rusty album left to me by my grandmother after she had died. My dad was a handsome lad with a hard past, who also died far too young. The album was also filled with odd documents that have yellowed; parking violations from 1957, land permits from my great grandfather. All just a bit too nostalgic and got me thinking about my own journey and relationship with him. Not nearly as troubled, but also too many things left unsaid...