Would You Like an Adventure?

Michael Llewelyn Davies dressed as Peter Pan, the character whom he inspired.

 "Would you like an adventure now, or shall we have our tea first?"—Peter Pan

There's something so alluring about the word adventure. It conjures up all sorts of images: being on safari, speeding across a foreign country on a fast train, flying off to Neverland and battling with Captain Hook. Maybe because I haven't been traveling as much as I used to or because it's been so cold and dreary in New York, I've been dreaming about a new adventure. I'd love to take a trip to another country where I've never been but as that's not possible at the moment, I will have to settle for some smaller adventures like walking down an unknown street and exploring a new neighbourhood. How about you, dear readers. What adventures would you like to have?

P.S. The photo above reminds me that I should write a piece one day about the heartbreaking story of the Llewelyn Davies boys who were befriended by and served as inspiration for Peter Pan creator J.M. Barrie. 

Peter and the Starcatcher

The Lost Boys are surrounded in Peter and the Starcatcher. Photo: O&M Co.

The other night I was transported to Neverland for a few hours when I saw a performance of Peter and the Starcatcher. Adapted by Rick Elice from the book by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson, Peter and the Starcatcher is a prequel of sorts to Peter and Wendy, deviating from the original Peter Pan back-story in many wonderful ways.

The play opens with the entire cast on stage and one of the actors proclaiming, “When I was a boy, I wished I could fly.” From there the story takes off at breakneck speed with the sailing of two ships—the Wasp with Starcatcher Lord Leonard Aster on board and the Never Land, which carries Aster's daughter Molly and her governess Mrs. Bumbrake along with a mysterious trunk that is said to contain “the greatest treasure on earth”—star stuff. Once at sea, the Wasp is overtaken by pirates while on the Never Land Molly befriends a group of kidnapped orphaned boys who are to be sold into slavery. One of them is nameless, known only as Boy. But by the end of the play he has a name—Peter Pan. Together Molly and Peter endure a shipwreck and run-ins on Mollusk Island with a giant crocodile, the island’s ruler who peppers his speech with names of Italian dishes, and the infamous pirate known as the Black Stache. Add a mermaid song and dance at the top of Act II, an inedible pineapple, and a tiny fairy, and the result is a story filled with humour, adventure, and magic.

Peter and the the Black Stache. Photo: O&M Co.

The design of the show is inventive to say the least. On a nearly bare stage, a dozen actors play 50 roles and rely on the simplest of props. A rope for example becomes the hold of a ship, ocean waves, the jaws of a crocodile, among other things. The execution is so smart, so funny that it makes any wish for an elaborate set obsolete. It also asks the audience to use their imagination, something unique in this day and age. And then there is the music, reminiscent of English dancehall songs and sea shanties. The show's composer, Wayne Barker, is a friend of mine so you may think I'm biased when I tell you that the music is delightful but it really is.

Peter’s name may be in the title but the show belongs to the Black Stache. Christian Borle was outstanding as the notorious pirate. Flitting across the stage with his oversized mustache, he tossed around malapropisms and threats effortlessly while being assisted by the ever-faithful Smee. The scene in which the future Captain Hook loses his hand (not by a croc) is one of the funniest in the play, and Borle played it with comic perfection. Celia Keenan-Bolger as Molly was also a standout, the only woman in a cast of men, while Arnie Burton did a nice turn as Mrs. Bumbrake. Adam Chanler-Berat as Peter was fine but his performance left me a little underwhelmed.

Even though the audience was not asked to clap if they believed in fairies, by the end of the play they were on their feet cheering.

Peter and the Starcatcher plays at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre. For more information, visit their website here.

Straight on Till Morning

Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens.

I’ve rarely sat down to read a book after the film (like most people I watch films and complain how the book was better). But this weekend, I did just that. I read Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens and Peter and Wendy by J.M. Barrie. Although Peter Pan was my favorite Disney film as a child, I had never read the stories until now. 

Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, a novella of sorts, tells the story of the baby Peter who lives in the gardens with the birds and the fairies. For those of you who have visited the place, you’ll love the description of the gardens as seen through the eyes of a small child.

As for Peter and Wendy, in which the boy Peter brings the Darling children to fabled Neverland so Wendy can be a mother to the lost boys, it was comforting to discover so much familiar territory. But the underlying sadness that runs throughout the stories came as a bit of a shock. I knew that Peter and the lost boys had been forgotten by their mothers but on the pages the aching sense of loss is more profound than anything in the screen versions. I’m actually glad I didn’t read this as a child.

The descriptions of Neverland and its inhabitants—Captain Hook, Smee, Tiger Lily, the crocodile—are delightful but none so much, for me, as the description of Tinkerbell, a girl close to my heart. (In the second grade I dressed up like Tinkerbell for Halloween and it remains one of my favourite costumes, ever). In the stories, Tink is just as sassy and vain as she is on screen only here her jealousy and meanness is more pronounced (she is a fairy after all). The description of her boudoir though is pure bliss:

“But there was one recess in the wall, no larger than a bird-cage, which was the private apartment of Tinker Bell. It could be shut off from the rest of the house by a tiny curtain, which Tink, who was most fastidious, always kept drawn when dressing or undressing. No woman, however large, could have had a more exquisite boudoir and bed-chamber combined. The couch, as she always called it, was a genuine Queen Mab, with club legs; and she varied the bedspreads according to what fruit-blossom was in season. Her mirror was a Puss-in-Boots, of which there are now only three, unchipped, known to fairy dealers; the washstand was Pie-crust and reversible, the chest of drawers an authentic Charming the Sixth, and the carpet and rugs the best (the early) period of Margery and Robin. There was a chandelier from Tiddlywinks for the look of the thing, but of course she lit the residence herself.”

I'd like to read more about J.M. Barrie and the Llewelyn Davies boys who were forever tied to the stories but right now I'm off to my own exquisite bed-chamber. Good night dear readers.