Now that sales of her work are slowing, the cash-strapped writer is encouraged by her agent to seriously consider Disney's offer, and the mogul is eager to finally seal the deal as he beckons the London-based writer to his Burbank, Calif., domain. But Travers wants the agreement on her own persnickety terms. The back-and-forth wooing that ensues amid splendidly retro '60s décor and fashions will prove irresistible for anyone who grew up under the influence of Uncle Walt's cultural sway—except, perhaps, those for whom the very idea of Disney present celebrating Disney past sounds like an infomercial from hell.
The plush critters get off easy compared to how Travers treats the talent in charge of translating her beloved authority figure into an adored movie character. Imagine Maggie Smith's imperious Dowager Countess on "Downton Abbey" crossed with Godzilla. Stomping onto the studio lot, Travers insists on changes that range from innocuous (switching the name of the mother of Mary Poppins' wee charges from Cynthia to Winifred) to insulting (she rails against the use of any "silly cartoons," a phrase that visibly pains Disney) to the impossibly outlandish ("No color red in the film—at all!").