Peter Pan, Duke of York's, London, 27 December 1904
A fantasy of wild, dreamy extravagance
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Two ideas underlie Mr Barrie's delightful new fantasy, Peter Pan; or, The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up - the child's passion for make-believe, and the average little girl's maternal instinct. Harping on these two strings, the playwright himself makes-believe unflaggingly in an artfully artless, go-as-you-please play which has all the pretty inconsequence of an imaginative child's improvisation, all the wild extravagance of a youngster's dream. Like Moira Lonely, the latest Barrie heroine - Wendy Darling - loves "mothering" people, and so quickly accepts her mysterious boy-visitor's invitation to quit her comfortable nursery and tend the lost little lads who live motherless in Never Never Never Land.
There, in a glorious underground home, Wendy and Peter imitate grown-up parents; there, thanks to Mr Barrie's intuition, all the romantic fancies of youthful brains about friendly Redskins and villainous pirates are thrillingly materialised; till Peter's band, unlike their gallant captain, yearn for their mothers' arms, and in childhood's beautiful confidence creep back home. Four of his interpreters must gladden Mr Barrie's heart: Miss Nina Boucicault, who is just the Peter of his conceiving, earnest with all a boy's intensity at his play; Mr Du Maurier, equally charming as penitent father and truculent pirate; Miss Dorothea Baird, a beautiful young mother; and, above all, Miss Hilda Trevelyan, whose Wendy, in speech, carriage, and gentle gravity, is the perfection of girlish naturalness.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments