Julie Andrews is easily the fairest lady in this or any other land. She is blessed with the ability to create a character by finely etching details rather than beating the audience over the head with patronizing hyperbole. As a result, she has created an abundance of timeless, classic and diverse characters. From Eliza Doolittle and Guenevere to Mary Poppins and Jerusha Bromley, she has proven herself to be a seasoned veteran of television, stage and screen with a wide and varied performance range.
“Home” provided the introduction to her pre-Poppins life where “Home Work” carries on through the post-Poppins era. Her fans should find the effort entertaining and very readable. The anecdotes and recollections have an easy flow about them and do help to reveal a genuine though guarded person behind the marketing facade.
We all edit our lives. Why would “Home” or “Home Work” be an exception especially considering the 600-page original draft of “Home Work”. I could not help but smile when I read pages 310 and 311 of “Home” which speak about Walt Disney giving her a tour of Disneyland.
As it turns out, I was there as well. I was standing alone, minding my own business when the referenced golf cart pulled up and parked directly in front of me. There were three occupants in the vehicle. The driver was male, there was a female sitting next to him while another male lounged comfortably across the back seat. When the driver stepped out of the cart there was a hushed murmur from the crowd because he was immediately recognized as Walt Disney himself.
Mr. Disney looked the way he did on TV, but his manner was a bit unexpected…at least for me. He was very friendly and immediately started greeting the small gathering. I was behind him, but he eventually turned around and acknowledged me.
He continued to address the crowd by asking, “has anyone heard of Winnie-the-Pooh? Anyone know who Winnie-the- Pooh is?” No one seemed to know anything about Winnie-the-Pooh. He turned back to me and asked if I had heard of Winnie-the-Pooh and I responded, “no.” He then directed his attention back to the main crowd and announced in a rather proud, somewhat too loud, but at the same time controlled, voice, that “we“ are adapting the Winnie-the-Pooh stories into a movie and he wanted everyone to look for it. He seemed to be quite the salesman and promotor.
Then, without missing a beat, he started asking if anyone had heard of “Mary Poppins.” Again, the crowd, including me, was baffled. With his same somewhat restrained carnival barker voice, he announced that he was making the “Mary Poppins” books into a movie.
By this time the seemingly demure young lady in the front seat had exited and was positioned on the passenger side of the golf card, while the male in the back was standing directly across from me. He seemed a rather amiable and outgoing sort, while she was much more reserved.
Mr. Disney then ask, “has anyone heard of Julie Andrews?” The crowd continued to be puzzled by his questions and seemed totally uninformed. Mr. Disney gestured to the young lady and stated, “this is Julie Andrews and she is going to play Mary Poppins for us.” This announcement was greeted with blank stares.
He went on to ask if anyone had heard of the Broadway plays, “My Fair Lady” or “Camelot.” Several people responded in the affirmative and smiled at Ms. Andrews who delicately reciprocated. Mr. Disney then turned back to me and asked if I had heard of Julie Andrews. I truthfully answered “no.”
As an adult, I have often wondered why someone like Walt Disney, who was so closely associated with the entertainment industry and the subsequent egos, insecurities and temperaments of actors would publicly ask if “anyone has heard of [fill in the blank]” especially while standing directly in front of them.
The future incarnation of Gertrude Lawrence was glaring directly at me when Mr. Disney posed the question and when I replied “no” her demeanor immediately transformed, and not in a good way. Apparently, she had had enough of the anonymity, which I suspect she genuinely missed later in her career. With piercing eyes and glowering countenance, she snapped, “well you’re going to!” The fierce scowl combined with the daggers shooting out of her eyes were astonishing.
Being from a small town combined with my youth, I was 12, made for a very hurtful moment…to say the least. I was stunned. Her response was so exaggerated that I found myself on the verge of tears. Mr. Disney, along with the startled gathering, noticed my response as well as her aggression. Mr. Disney lowered his voice and said something to her.
I couldn’t clearly hear him, but I did catch her grudgingly remark, “that’s what Jack Warner said” referring to a comment Mr. Warner evidently made about her not having any name recognition with people out in the “sticks.” Mr. Disney explained that “Jack has a business to run” and changing the publicity situation was up to “us” and “we” will take care of it.” He glanced back at me. Heaven only knows how I looked.
The very agreeable man who was facing me looked on empathetically while registering genuine concerned. He didn’t seem to know what to say or do when he awkwardly quipped, “oh no, we can’t have Mary Poppins walking around Disneyland making children cry” followed by a rather self-conscious, barely audible chuckle. I was from the “sticks” and exactly who Jack Warner was talking about.
With that, Ms. Andrews registered frustrated indignation and asked Mr. Disney, “should I apologize?” In a whispered tone, he said, “no, we should probably leave” and made an offhand remark about not knowing “where the parents [my parents] might be.”
A hasty exit was made and with that the small gathering of parkgoers, dispersed and I stood silently where my mother told me to stand and waited for my family to return. The tears welled but did not fall. This was the 1960’s, males did not cry, and I knew it. I simply turned my back on everyone, gazed into the distance and repressed the harm of public humiliation.
A few years later, I found myself, again with my family, this time visiting my brother in Oklahoma City. While, driving down NW23rd Street he told my mother that she and my aunt should see “that movie” and pointed to the Tower Theatre. He said, “I would take you myself, but I’ve seen it so many times I just can’t look at it again.” He continued, “every time I ask anyone out, they want to see that movie.” The movie referenced was “The Sound of Music” [in its reserved seat roadshow engagement no less – that was a really big deal back in the 60’s].
That night I was dragged kicking and screaming to the screening. I had never seen a Julie Andrews movie and had forgotten the name. What can I say? The overture blared, the house lights went down, the curtain went up [I had never seen that before either, being from the “sticks” and all] and the movie started. The clouds wafted, the lakes glistened, the trees appeared and there off in the distance on a hillside, was a miniscule figure in black sparkling against the green of the meadow.
The music swelled, the camera dived and suddenly, the hills were alive. I didn’t notice at the initial twirl. However, somewhere lurking in that grove of white barked trees, something welled up inside of me. Wait a minute I thought. No way. Then there was the babbling brook and tossed stones. No! It can’t be, I reasoned. Finally, the stroll across the hillside with hands clasped in a prayer pose of all things.
That’s when it finally struck me. Good grief! It’s that bilious woman from Disneyland!!! What’d know! She can sing! By the closing credits, the golf cart incident though not exactly forgiven [and obviously not forgotten] had been placed in a different context. The ignorance of youth and resulting missteps are part of how we learn and mature.
I highly recommend both books. They are insightfully prudent and well worth your time. With the final page, you will have a sensible portrait of someone who has overcome heart-breaking struggles that would crush a lesser spirit and the world is a better place as a result.
That being said, there is a difference between acting as a craft and a public veneer. Ms. Andrews is a force to be reckoned with and I suspect, if provoked, perfectly capable of shoving that frilly pink and white “Jolly Holiday” parasol directly up your keister…and opening it.
It takes real backbone to fly over London with the breeze blowing up your bloomers. Little Miss Millie Dillmount may really be exactly what Paul Newman was talking about when he said, “Of course I know Julie Andrews. She’s the last of the really great broads.”
Boop-boop-ee-doop! Indeed!
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A fun memoir, and a beautiful book to add to your collection.
Reviewed in the United States on February 29, 2020
Ms. Andrews gives a quick recap of her childhood (apparently she wrote about that in a previous book, "Home: A Memoir of My Early Years"), and then dives right in to her time in Hollywood, basically covering the 1960s and 1970s. I listened to this one, as it’s narrated by Ms. Andrews herself, and also bought the book to reference as I listened. It’s an enjoyable read, especially for fans of film. She also dives into her personal life, but not too deep. There are quite a few journal entries which give you a perspective of how she felt in certain moments of time, which was interesting. The book itself has beautiful pictures from her private collection. A fun memoir to read and a beautiful book to add to your collection.
Reviewed in the United States on February 29, 2020
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