Most people remember the bed. That big, brass, glowing thing that whisked three kids and a prim-and-proper witch through the sky. But if you strip away the flying furniture and the animated lions playing soccer, you're left with something much more grounded. You're left with Angela Lansbury.
Honestly, it’s wild to think that Bedknobs and Broomsticks almost didn't happen with her. Or that it almost didn't happen at all. Released in 1971, the movie has lived in the shadow of Mary Poppins for over half a century. It’s often called "the other one." You know, the one with the Nazis and the underwater dancing?
But for Lansbury, this wasn't just another paycheck or a "Disney version" of her Broadway hits. It was personal.
The Role Julie Andrews Walked Away From
Here is a bit of trivia that usually shocks people: Eglantine Price was supposed to be Mary Poppins. Well, not literally. But Walt Disney spent years trying to get Julie Andrews to sign on. He wanted to catch lightning in a bottle twice. Andrews, terrified of being typecast as the "singing nanny," turned it down.
When she finally changed her mind a few months later? Too late. Angela Lansbury had already signed the contract.
Lansbury didn't just step into someone else's shoes, though. She changed the fit. While Poppins was "practically perfect in every way," Eglantine Price was a mess. She was an apprentice. She was failing her correspondence courses. She was a reclusive woman in a small English village trying to learn "Substitutiary Locomotion" to literally fight fascists.
It’s a grittier role than people give it credit for. You’ve got a woman who is essentially a draft dodger of social norms, living alone during the Blitz, taking in three orphans she doesn't even want.
Why Angela Lansbury Connected with the Blitz
Lansbury’s performance feels so authentic because she lived it. During World War II, a teenage Angela was actually evacuated from London to escape the Nazi bombings. She knew the fear of the sirens. She knew what it felt like to be a kid shuffled off to the countryside.
When she read the script, she reportedly told the studio that the story reminded her of her own teens. It wasn't just fantasy for her. It was a memory.
The filming process itself was what she called "acting by the numbers." Disney was incredibly rigid back then. Every single shot was storyboarded to death. If the drawing showed Eglantine looking surprised at a 45-degree angle, Lansbury had to hit that exact angle. There wasn't a lot of room for "finding the character" on set. You did what the drawing told you to do.
Yet, she still managed to make Eglantine feel human. When she sings "Age of Not Believing," she isn't just singing to the kids in the movie. She’s singing to every person who feels like the world has become too heavy to handle.
The "Beautiful Briny" Disaster
If the movie feels a bit disjointed, there’s a reason. The original cut was massive—over two hours long. But when it was booked for Radio City Music Hall, the theater told Disney the movie was too long to fit their stage show schedule.
So, they hacked it.
They cut roughly 23 minutes. They sliced out entire subplots and musical numbers. One song, "A Step in the Right Direction," was completely lost for decades. They even cut pieces of the "Portobello Road" sequence, which was a massive undertaking involving hundreds of extras and a full reconstruction of 1940s London on a Disney soundstage.
Basically, the version most of us grew up watching on VHS was a Frankenstein’s monster of what the creators intended. It wasn't until the late 90s and early 2000s that archivists started digging through the vaults to put the pieces back together.
Even then, they had to hire sound-alikes to re-record dialogue because the original audio was gone. If you listen closely to the restored version, David Tomlinson’s voice suddenly shifts pitch in certain scenes. It’s jarring. It’s weird. It’s totally Disney.
The Nazi Battle That Scared the Studio
The climax of the film—where Lansbury uses magic to animate an empty museum’s worth of medieval armor to fight off a Nazi raiding party—is arguably the coolest thing Disney did in the 70s.
It used a mix of "yellow screen" (sodium vapor) technology and invisible wires. They had actors in blue suits moving the armor so they could be matted out later. For 1971, the tech was peak.
📖 Related: When Did the Last Dragon Come Out? The Reality Behind Disney's Raya and House of the Dragon
But there was a lot of internal debate about whether having literal Nazis in a "kids' movie" was a bridge too far. Remember, this was only 26 years after the war ended. For many parents in the audience, those uniforms weren't just costumes—they were a very real, very recent nightmare.
Lansbury insisted on playing it straight. She didn't wink at the camera. She played Eglantine as a woman who was truly prepared to die for her country, even if her only weapon was a bedknob and a half-finished spell.
What Most People Get Wrong Today
People look back at Bedknobs and Broomsticks and see a "Mary Poppins" clone. That’s a mistake.
Mary Poppins is about fixing a family. Bedknobs and Broomsticks is about surviving a war.
Lansbury’s Eglantine Price isn't a magical savior who floats in to fix your life and then leaves when the wind changes. She’s a lonely, middle-aged woman who finds a family by accident and decides to fight like hell to keep them safe.
If you haven't watched it recently, do yourself a favor. Look past the dated animation in the Naboombu sequence. Ignore the slightly clunky pacing. Just watch Lansbury. Watch the way she handles that broomstick with a mix of terror and determination.
How to Revisit the Magic
If you're planning a rewatch, here is the best way to do it:
📖 Related: Photos of Carly Simon: The Untold Stories Behind Those Iconic 70s Frames
- Find the "Extended" or "Enchanted Musical Edition." The theatrical cut is too choppy. You need the extra scenes to understand why the characters actually like each other.
- Watch the Portobello Road sequence for the choreography. It’s one of the last great "old Hollywood" dance numbers.
- Listen to the lyrics of "Age of Not Believing." It hits differently when you’re an adult.
Angela Lansbury gave us a hero who was allowed to be unsure of herself. She gave us a witch who didn't need a coven—just a bit of "substitutiary locomotion" and a lot of heart.
To get the full experience, track down the 139-minute reconstruction. It’s the only way to see the film as it was meant to be seen, before the editors at Radio City Music Hall got their hands on it. You’ll see a much deeper performance from Lansbury that explains exactly why she remains one of the greatest to ever do it.