“PETER PAN.”

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume XVIII, Issue 1049, 14 April 1910, Page 18

“PETER PAN.”

GEMS FROM THE ’SCRIPT. (By “Sylvius” in “The Dominion.”) The mind of J. M. Barrie, as disclosed in that exquisite fairy dreamplay, “Peter Pan,” is a thing of beauty, and will to many in Wellington be a joy for ever. It is so far away from anything theatrical that has been seen in Wellington before; so remote from the conventionalities of the stage which do such tiresome duty, year in and year out. “Peter Pan” to the constant theatre-goer (for preference the married) is like a new colour to the artist, a new flavour to the epicure, a new sensation to the blase—and yet it is so pure and sweet and delicate in its tone, and so human in its sentment. One city man I know, who makes a practice of reading “The Winning Post,” was asked how he liked “Peter Pan.” I never felt such a fool in my life,” was his reply. “I had a lump in my throat nearly the whole of the evening, and in trying to swallow it.l lost sight of the stage.”

Quite on the other hand there are people—thank goodness only a few—who for the life of them cannot see “what there is to rave about in the play.” Argument is wasted and words are chaff in the wind to such. “Peter Pan is a play of laughter and tears, which is the recipe for perfect joy.” In glancing over the manuscript, fresh beauties beam golden from each page. People often think and talk of the wonderful love of dogs for children. Barrie burlesques if deliciously in introducing the shaggy Landseer dog Nana as the Darling children’s nurse. In Act. 1 Mrs. Darling, speaking to her husband, says:— “George, Nana is a treasure.” George—“No doubt, but —I have an uneasy feeling at times that he looks upon the children as puppies.” Mrs. D. —“Oh, no, dear one, I am sure she knows they have souls.” George—“l wonder.” Mothers love the bedroom scene, where Mrs. Darling tucks up her Darlings in their nice little white beds. The human touch about it is quite irritating to the tear-ducts. Little Michael —“Can anything harm us, Mummy, after the night lights are lit?” Mrs. Darling—“ Nothing, precious. They are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children (singing) — “ Winkem and Blinkem are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head;. And a wooden shoe that sails in the skies Is a wee one’s trundle bed. So shut your eyes while mother sings of wonderful sights that be; And you shall see the beautiful things as You rock on the misty sea, Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three, Winkem, Blinkem and Nod. “Dear night-lights that guard my sleeping babes, burn clear and steadfast to-night.” Quaint is Peter’s explanation as to his whence and why. Wendy— . . . “How old are you?” Peter—“l don’t know —but quite; young, Wendy. I ran away the day I was born.” Wendy—Ran away. Why?” Peter —“Because I heard father and mother talking about what I was to be when I became a man. I want always to be a little boy, and to have fun. So I ran away and I lived a long, long time among the fairies.” Wendy—“ Peter! You know the fairies?” Peter —“Yes, but they are nearly all dead now. You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces.

and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now whenever a new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy.” Wendy—“Oh!” Peter—“ And so there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl?” Wendy—“Ougnt to be? Isn’t there?” Pets?—“No. You see children know such a lot nowadays. They soon don’t believe in fairies, and every time a child says—‘l don’t believe in fairies,’ there is a fairy somewhere that drops right down dead!” But “Peter Pan” is not all fairies. The salad is well mixed.- There is a positive deliciousness in the deepdyed awfulness of Captain Hook and his pirate crew, with their horrible — “ Yo, ho, yo ho, the pirate life, The flag of skull and bones.” But the horror of this sinister band is tempered by their fright of Peter, who had cut off Hook’s hand and given it to the crocodile with the timepiece in its “innards.” Hook is delighted when he proposes to kill Peter and the Lost Boys. Hook—“ Return to the ship and cook a large cake, rick cake of a jolly thickness, with sugar on it—green sugar. There can be but one room down there, for there’s but one chimney. The silly moles hadn’t sense enough to see that they didn’t need a door apiece. That shows they’ve no mother. When Peter has come home we’ll creep back, carrying the cake. We’ll leave it here. They’ll gobble it up because, having no mother, they don’t know how dangerous ’tis to eat rich damp cake. Tney’ll die!” Smee—“ It’s the wickedest, purtiest policy ever heard of.” One of the most appealing scenes is the coming of Wendy to the Never, Never, Never Land. She is flying through the air when she is shot by Tootles (at Tinker Bell’s instigation), who confesses his crime to Peter on his arrival. Peter—“ Wendy! Wendy! An arrow in her heart! Dear Wendy, have . you gone away? Are you not here, Wendy? Will you never be here any more to play? . . . Wendy’s dead! Perhaps she’s frightened at being dead! Wendy! Mother! (Sternly) Whose arrow?” Tootles—“ Mine, Peter! Strike Peter, strike me!” Peter (trying to strike him) —“I cannot strike. There’s something stays my hand.” Nibs—' Stop, see, the Wendy lady; see her arm. I think she said ’Dear Peter!’ ” Peter—“ She lives. .. . See the arrow struck against this (a button). It is the kiss I gave her. It has saved her life.” Then what could oe sweeter than the scene in which Wendy and Peter play at Darby and Joan in their underground home. Peter—“An old lady, there’s nothing pleasanter of an evening when the day’s toil is over than to sit by the fire with one’s smiling missus in the opposite chair and the little ones near by, eh!” Wendy—“lt is sweet, Peter, isn’t it. Peter, I think Curly has your nose.” Peter—“ Nibs takes after you.” Wendy—-“ Dear Peter, with such a large family, of course I have now passed my best; but you don’t want to change me do you?” Peter—“No, Wendy (sighs).” .Wendy—“ Peter what is it?” Peter—“l was just thinking—it’s only make-believe, isn’t it, that I’m their father.” Wendy—“Oh, yes." Peter—“ You see it would make me seem so old to be their real father wouldn’t it?” Wendy—“ But they are ours, Peter, yours and mine.” P ® te „ r , (anxiously)—“But not really?” Wendy (put out)—“Not if you don t wish it. Peter, what are your exact feelings for me?” , x , Pet , er ’ “Those of a devoted son, Wendy.” heS*/ - " 1 thoUsM 80 ” (broken- “ You’re so puzzling. Tiger Lily s just the same. There’s something she wants to be to me, but she says it’s not my mother.” Wendy—“No, indeed it Isn’t.” Peter—“ Then what is it?” Wendy—“lt isn’t for a lady to say.” There are many, very many more charming scenes, permeated with happy thoughts, jewelling Barrie’s unique fantasy, but space will not permit of expanding further. Then, charming as these little bits may read, they are not nearly so convincing as when acted, which leaves only one course—see “Peter Pan.”