Nanny McPhee Returns heaps on the scatological humor. Despite the highbrow pedigree of Emma Thompson, its lovely leading lady (and screenwriter), its greatest pleasures are reserved for those who find naughty delight in the sight of pooping horses, farting cows, burping birds, and an old lady deciding that a pile of manure is a most comfortable seating option. That is to say: it’s for the kids. And I don’t suppose I should hold that against it.
Thompson’s Nanny McPhee is the anti-Mary Poppins. She carries a gnarled wooden stick rather than a talking umbrella. There are no offers of spoonfuls of sugar, no helping children by using magic to complete their chores, and certainly no singing. In fact, she barely speaks above a soft monotone during the entire film. She’s no beauty either, arriving with a snaggletooth, huge warts on her dumpy face, and a unibrow.
It’s the character’s second film appearance, and I have only the vaguest memories of having seen the first in 2005. From what I do remember, the formula holds: a mysterious and magical nanny appears (warts and all) on the doorstep of a family in crisis. She teaches them a series of life lessons. As their learning progresses, her physical appearance transforms slowly from ghastly to gorgeous.
This time around the setting is World War II-era England (the first was set in the 19th century). With her husband away in the army, a mother (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is struggling to keep her three children in line while also avoiding the loss of the family farm to debts. Complicating matters is the arrival of two spoiled, rich cousins, who have been evacuated from London to the countryside during the Blitz. The city kids clash with the country kids, setting the stage for Nanny McPhee.
Child actors are famously problematic, and the five young stars here are asked to carry much of the film. (Indeed, at times the part of Nanny McPhee seems like a supporting role). The entire enterprise might have been a disaster if they hadn’t acquitted themselves as well as they do. Worth particular recognition is Eros Vlahos, who plays Cyril Gray. He shows a talent for embracing the cartoon-ish qualities of the young dandy without hamming it up too much.
The plot is driven by the attempts of no-good Uncle Phil (Rhys Ifans) to trick the family into selling the farm, of which he owns a share, so that he can pay off his own debts. This storyline intersects nicely with Nanny McPhee’s oddball lessons — which involve forcing the children to sleep with animals in their beds and changing a group of escaped pigs into synchronized swimmers so that the kids have to work harder (and work together) to retrieve them.
All of the adult actors appear to be having a grand time playing their over-the-top parts. In addition to Gyllenhaal, Thompson, and Ifans, there’s Ralph Fiennes as Lord Gray (he’s “very high up in the War Office”) and Maggie Smith as an apparently senile old woman who fills a cabinet with maple syrup and has a previous, unexpected connection to Nanny McPhee. Judging by these performances, the set must have been a fun place to work.
Trouble is, I’m not sure that adults in the audience will have as nearly as good a time. The target market clearly is young people, and perhaps that’s as it should be. Still, in a summer when a movie like Toy Story 3 proves how wit and imagination can satisfy every member of the family, Nanny McPhee Returns is a tad disappointing.
But maybe I’m the wrong person to ask. I’ve never cared for fart jokes.
