TLB-complete
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
[
previous
| bottom
]
60 EXT. ROAD & COUNTRYSIDE. 1906. DUSK
A 1906 Lancia bumbles along the Windsor-London road, driven
by Barrie's chauffeur, ALPHONSE.
61 INT. LANCIA - TRAVELLING. 1906. DUSK
Sylvia gazes impassively out of the window while Barrie,
aware of her mood, talks breezily in an effort to cheer
her.
BARRIE
You know the only time I really
feel a foreigner in England is
when I try to understand your
Public School system. It
completely defeats me. Did you
see George's face when he went in
to face the examination firing
squad? He had "Floreat Etona"
written all over his smile. He's
already in love with Eton, and
they haven't even let him in yet.
Sylvia makes no response. Barrie pats her knee
reassuringly.
BARRIE
Don't you worry about George.
He'll do very well for himself,
you'll see.
SYLVIA
(vacantly)
"Don't kiss me, mother, there's a
sport.
And whatever you do, don't blub."
Do you realise I haven't cried
since that day in the hospital
when I broke down on your
shoulder and cried like a baby?
I've got no emotion left. I'm
dried up. Numb.
BARRIE
Of course you're not. Your heart
beats brave as ever, you...
SYLVIA
(interrupting sharply)
Oh, Jimmy, for God's sake stop
being so sympathetic all the
time! I need you to shake me to
my senses, not suffocate me with
kindness. I can't laugh. I can't
cry. I'm just a vegetable,
vegetating in self-pity.
Sylvia's outburst takes Barrie unawares. He turns away from
her and gazes out of the window in silence. A long pause.
BARRIE
I remember once... perhaps I've
told you already - no, I don't
think I did... I remember there
was a couple living in Scotland
who'd been happily married for,
oh, forty years or so. And then
one day the wife died. Of course
the husband was miserable,
distraught. Then the undertaker
came, and she was laid out in her
coffin, and they carried her down
the stairs and along the garden
path. And as they were just going
through the gate, the coffin
struck the gate-post. Presently
they heard a knocking sound
coming from inside the coffin, so
they put it down and opened it
up, and... well, you can imagine
the husband was overjoyed to find
that his wife was still alive.
Sylvia listens without reaction, somewhat puzzled at the
purpose of the story.
BARRIE
So they lived on happily for
another four or five years, and
then his wife died again. The
Undertaker came - laid her out in
the coffin - carried downstairs,
along the garden path.
And just as they were going
through the gate, the husband
lent across to the undertaker and
said, "Eh, mind that post."
A long pause, then Sylvia begins to laugh. She laughs
uncontrollably, the tears pouring down her cheeks; then the
laugh turns to a cry, and she breaks down, sobbing, burying
her face in her hands. With her face still covered, she
holds out a hand to Barrie. He takes it in his own. But
there is no anguish in his expression, only relief at the
sight of her tears.
62 EXT. ROAD & COUNTRYSIDE. 1906. DUSK
The Lancia rumbles on into the gathering gloom of London.
63 INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1906. NIGHT
Mary Barrie hovers by the fire while Barrie glances through
the documents left by Gilbert Cannan. He is half-dressed
for dinner, trying to do up his cuffs at the same time.
MARY BARRIE
You might have told me you were
having dinner with the Home
Secretary. I felt such a fool not
knowing.
Barrie continues reading.
MARY BARRIE
What's it all about, anyway? I
didn't even know you were
interested in censoring plays.
BARRIE
(without looking up)
The Committee is for the
Abolition of Censorship.
MARY BARRIE
Well there you are. That Mr
Cannan must have thought I was a
complete idiot.
Barrie makes no response.
MARY BARRIE
(persisting)
Isn't there anything I could do?
BARRIE
(without looking up)
Yes, pass the ink will you?
MARY passes him the inkwell. While continuing to read,
Barrie blacks the worn cuffs of his dinner-Jacket with ink,
as of habit.
MARY BARRIE
The richest writer in the
country, and he has to black his
cuffs with ink.
Still no response from Barrie.
MARY BARRIE
I meant isn't there anything I
could do to help you with this
Committee work?
BARRIE
You can try and read this chap's
handwriting if you like - it's
worse than mine.
MARY BARRIE
(responding)
Would you like me to type-write
them out?
BARRIE
You can't type-write.
MARY BARRIE
I could learn - on the machine I
gave you. You never use it.
BARRIE
(shrugging)
If it amuses you.
Barrie finishes the last page of the Committee's proposal,
deposits it on the desk, folds up a few of his own notes
and stuffs them in his pocket.
BARRIE
I'll be sitting up with Arthur
tonight, so don't bother to wait
up for me.
Barrie puts on his Jacket, dusts it down, stokes the
pockets with tobacco, then goes to the door.
MARY BARRIE
Can I really?
BARRIE
Can you really what?
MARY BARRIE
Type-write those papers?
BARRIE
I just said you could... but I
can't for the life of me think
why you should want to.
MARY BARRIE
(simply)
To be of use to you.
Barrie looks at her, then kisses her briefly on the cheek.
BARRIE
Good-night, dear.
Barrie leaves the room. A pause, then Mary Barrie goes to a
cupboard, pulls a chair over, climbs up and reaches for the
top shelf. She lifts down a large case and carries it
across to Barrie's desk. It contains a typewriter, rarely
used and dusty with age.
64 INT. NURSING HOME - ARTHUR'S ROOM. 1906. NIGHT
Arthur lies asleep in bed. Sylvia sits beside him, writing
a letter by the light of a small bedside lamp.
SYLVIA (V.O.)
For June the 16th, my Michael's
6th birthday. We shall all be
coming home on Thursday, in Mr
Barrie's motor-car if it is fine,
and I will bring my present to
you then. I want so to tell you
about father, who is so brave,
and you will be so proud that you
are his son. I don't like being
away from you on your dear
birthday, but it will not be long
now.
As Sylvia continues writing, CAMERA PULLS BACK slowly into
LONG SHOT, bringing Barrie into foreground CLOSE UP. He too
is writing, but is sitting in deep shadow.
SYLVIA (V.O.)
Oh, my little Michael - won't it
be fine when we are all together
again! Father does so want to be
back with his sons. He still
cannot talk properly, and when he
comes home you will have to guess
what he is saying, as Mary does
for Nico. Mr Barrie is here with
me, and he is writing too. Don't
you think he is a very good
friend to all of us?
He is our fairy prince - much the
best fairy prince that ever was
because he is real. I expect he
is inventing some more funny
stories to give you to read...
BARRIE (V.O.)
Arthur talking to me about death.
Spoke about great difference in
dying when you have children -
you yourself living on in them,
not going out completely. Could
work this into story of dying man
who yearns for a second chance to
live life over again. Perhaps he
has no children of his own. Curse
of his life could be that he has
never "had a woman". Blames women
for this, but really his own
fault - a black spot within him,
there since birth. Could be a
play about two men, each trying
to overcome some accursed thing
inside them. One a physical
disease, ŕ la Arthur, the other
mental or spiritual. Each tries
to fight it...
(a wry smile)
... but it gets us both in the
end.
65 INT. SAVOY GRILL ROOM. 1907. DAY
Barrie, Mary Barrie and Gilbert Cannan work at Frohman's
Corner Table, drinking coffee after a working lunch. The
table is strewn with documents. Mary Barrie takes
occasional notes.
CANNAN
But it's political support we
really need, and I just don't see
how we're going to get it.
BARRIE
Well the Home Secretary assured
me that if we could find enough
eminent authors to support the
petition, he'd be prepared to lay
it before the Commons for debate.
So I suggest that our next move
is to draw up some sort of formal
document stating our case, and we
then put it out on a circular
basis.
CANNAN
The only problem there is
steering a middle course - I mean
how to get the maximum support
without having to compromise.
Granville-Barker feels that the
best...
Cannan breaks off as George walks over to the table.
GEORGE
Two o'clock, Uncle Jim - Mother's
waiting outside in the car.
BARRIE
(a wink at George)
"For this relief, much thanks"
(to Cannan)
Gilbert, this is George Llewelyn
Davies. George, this is Gilbert
Cannan - an author of some
talent, unlike my good self.
GEORGE
How d'you do. Hello, Mrs Barrie.
MARY BARRIE
Hello, dearest.
(to Cannan)
George is the one who started it
all.
CANNAN
Started what?
BARRIE
The longest story I shall never
write.
Barrie gets up from the table.
MARY BARRIE
(to Cannan)
His father's been in hospital,
but today's the great day, isn't
it George?
GEORGE
(to Cannan)
We're taking Father home in Mr
Barrie's motor-car.
MARY BARRIE
You will give him my fondest
love, won't you? And to your
mother.
GEORGE
Yes, of course.
BARRIE
(to Cannan, overlapped)
Well let's draw up something
along those lines anyway, and
then we can discuss it with
Frohman and Granville-Barker.
CANNAN
Fine, I'll leave it with Mary.
Good-bye, George.
Barrie and George leave the Grill Room.
MARY BARRIE
(calling to Barrie)
Goodbye, dearest - I'll see
you...?
BARRIE
Anon.
Mary Barrie watches them go. A long pause.
CANNAN
What did you mean about George
"starting it all"?
MARY BARRIE
He says he'll never write it, but
he's been writing it ever since
he first met him. You haven't
read The Little White Bird?
CANNAN
(dryly)
Can't say that I have.
MARY BARRIE
Oh. Well, it's all there. A
lonely bachelor meets a boy in
Kensington Gardens and makes him
his own by telling him stories
about Peter Pan.
CANNAN
Which was George?
MARY BARRIE
The boy in the Gardens.
CANNAN
And Peter Pan?
MARY BARRIE
Ah, there you have me. I don't
think even Jim knows where he
came from.
CANNAN
Was this before you were married?
MARY BARRIE
Oh no. No, we'd been married four
or five years by then.
CANNAN
But no children of your own?
MARY BARRIE
(an evasive giggle)
No... No, we decided against it.
I, er, I didn't hear what Jim
said just then?
CANNAN
About what?
MARY BARRIE
About the petition?
CANNAN
I'd rather talk about you.
MARY BARRIE
(mildly embarrassed)
There's nothing to talk about.
CANNAN
How did you first meet him?
MARY BARRIE
Oh... I've forgotten.
(pause)
I think he wanted me to be in one
of his plays. He wanted a flirt.
CANNAN
And were you?
MARY BARRIE
(a nervous smile)
I got the part.
CANNAN
Why did you give up acting?
MARY BARRIE
Oh... I don't know why you're
asking me all these questions?
CANNAN
I'm interested.
MARY BARRIE
For one of your books?
CANNAN
What book?
MARY BARRIE
Gilbert, I've been married to a
writer for too long not to know
the tricks of the trade. You jot
us down in little notebooks, then
pull us out on Christmas Day to
decorate your trees.
CANNAN
You're the one who's been doing
the jotting.
Mary Barrie has been concealing her nerves by doodling in
her own notebook. Cannan leans across and takes her hand.
CANNAN
Alright. I, Gilbert Cannan, do
hereby solemnly swear that I
shall never knowingly jot you
down in anything, so help
me God.
66 EXT. EGERTON HOUSE & GARDEN. 1906. DAY
A large walled garden, with an imposing Elizabethan house
in the background: Egerton House. Peter kneels by an
ornamental pond in foreground, fishing in clandestine
fashion for goldfish with a piece of string tied round his
finger. Michael watches in fascination as he hooks a
struggling goldfish from the pond.
SYLVIA
(calling, O.S.)
Peter, Michael!
Michael glances round as Peter hides the fish.
MICHAEL
Father!
Michael and Peter abandon the struggling goldfish and race
across the lawn to greet Arthur, who is being wheeled along
the terrace by Sylvia, George and Jack. As Michael
approaches Arthur, he notices his father's facial
disfigurement for the first time.
ARTHUR
(barely comprehensible)
Hello, dear boy.
MICHAEL
(awkwardly)
Hello, father.
(to Sylvia)
Where's Uncle Jim?
SYLVIA
He'll be along in a minute.
Father's got his birthday present
for you.
MICHAEL
Oh. Thank you.
Arthur fumbles under his travelling-rug and extracts a
small parcel which he gives to Michael. While Michael
unwraps it, Peter edges forward.
PETER
Can I show you my rats, Father?
GEORGE
No you can't - I haven't shown
him my butterflies yet.
Michael unwraps his present: a small, leather-bound edition
of Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner. He flicks
through the pages in search of illustrations, but finds
none.
ARTHUR
I wanted to give you an edition
with Doré's plates, but your
mother thought they might give
you nightmares.
Arthur talks with the aid of an artificial jaw, and his
words are almost incomprehensible at times.
MICHAEL
(to Sylvia)
Give what?
SYLVIA
Give you nightmares, darling.
MICHAEL
Oh. Why?
SYLVIA
Because they're very... oh, it
doesn't matter.
Now why don't you wheel father
round the garden - then you can
show him all the flowers that
have come up while he's been
gone.
NICO
(calling, O.S.)
Michael!
Michael turns to see Nico standing with Barrie in the
garden porch. Barrie carries a camera-case and tripod,
while Nico struggles with a huge parcel.
NICO
Look what Uncle Jim's brought
you!
MICHAEL
(straining to run)
Oh - please... may I go and open
it?
SYLVIA
Well no, darling, I mean I really
think you ought to...
ARTHUR
(interrupting gently)
No, let him go if he wants to.
SYLVIA
Very well then - off you go.
Michael races off towards Barrie, abandoning Arthur's
present in his lap. Sylvia looks hurt by Michael's
unintentional heartlessness, but Arthur understands.
JACK
(irritated)
Why's he call him Uncle Jim?
GEORGE
Well why not?
JACK
But he's not our uncle.
ARTHUR
(cautioning)
Now Jack...
(trying to smile)
I think Uncle Jim suits him very
well.
Arthur watches as Michael and Barrie greet each other,
Barrie swinging the boy round and round in his arms.
ARTHUR
(to the other boys)
Now then, which of you boys is
going to show me round the
garden?
JACK
I will, father!
GEORGE
No, we all will. Come on, let's
show him the Blackcap's nest
first, and then I'll show him my
butterflies...
PETER
(overlapping)
No, I was first - I want to show
him my rats!
George and Jack wheel Arthur off along the garden path,
with Peter squeezing in between them. Sylvia watches them
go, then turns to the porch where Michael has unpacked his
present.
MICHAEL
Look, mother - look what Uncle
Jim's given me!
Michael holds up a hand-made replica of Peter Pan's stage
costume, complete with dagger and sword.
SYLVIA
(without enthusiasm)
Well that's lovely, darling.
MICHAEL
May I put it on?
SYLVIA
Of course you can... but let Nico
help you.
Michael and Nico run indoors, leaving Sylvia alone as
Barrie walks over.
SYLVIA
(after a pause)
There's been some rather bad
news, I'm afraid. I haven't told
Arthur yet.
BARRIE
(anxiously)
What is it?
SYLVIA
George. He's failed his
scholarship to Eton.
BARRIE
Oh, is that all... I thought it
was something to do with Arthur.
SYLVIA
Well of course it's to do with
Arthur. He can't possibly afford
the school-fees.
BARRIE
Aren't you forgetting my promise?
SYLVIA
Oh, no. No, Jimmy - the
operations were one thing, but if
you start paying for the boys as
well, I... well I don't think
Arthur could bear that.
Sylvia sits on a garden bench while Barrie remains
standing.
BARRIE
Do you know how much money Peter
Pan has made since it first
opened?
SYLVIA
What's that got to do with it?
BARRIE
Just over half a million pounds.
And that's not including America.
Now you tell me this, where would
Peter Pan be if it hadn't been
for George? Don't you think he
deserves his share of the
spoils... even if it is only to
send him to school?
SYLVIA
But what about the others? We
can't just send George to Eton -
it wouldn't be fair on the
others.
BARRIE
Oh, don't you worry - I'll get my
money's worth out of them yet.
You'll see.
MICHAEL
(O.S., calling)
Dark and sinister man, have at
thee!
Barrie turns round to see Michael dressed as Peter Pan at
the top of the steps, brandishing his sword and ready to do
battle. At the far end of the garden, Arthur watches as
Michael engages Barrie in a mock duel. George, Jack and
Peter are grouped round Arthur's wheelchair.
ARTHUR
I don't know what we'd have done
without Mr Barrie. He's been so
kind and generous.
JACK
(aside, to Peter)
We'd have done all right.
ARTHUR
What was that, Jack?
JACK
Nothing, Father.
ARTHUR
I think it was something. Peter?
PETER
Yes, father?
ARTHUR
Would you like to show me your
rats now?
PETER
(eagerly)
Shall I get them?
ARTHUR
You shall.
Peter runs off, leaving Arthur alone with George and Jack.
In the far background, Nico joins forces with Michael
against Barrie.
ARTHUR
Jack, I want you to listen to me.
Don't think I don't understand
how you feel about Mr Barrie. No
one understands that so well as I
do, because it's how I felt about
him myself.
The only thing we ever had in
common was our mutual love for
you boys, and no father likes to
share his children with another
man.
(with great effort)
But I have heard so much from him
that is wise, and good, and true,
that I have come to regard him as
a brother. His love for you boys
is my one great comfort when I
think of the future after I'm
gone.
GEORGE
But... but you're better...
mother said so...
ARTHUR
There's always a chance, but...
JACK
(on the verge of tears)
It's not true, father! Say it's
not true!
ARTHUR
Believe me, I'd howl if I thought
it would do any good. But I want
you to be brave, as I am feebly
trying to be brave. We mustn't
think of ourselves, we... we
mustn't...
Arthur grips onto George and Jack, unable to continue
without breaking down. The two boys are already reduced to
tears.
At the far end of the garden, Barrie lines Michael up for a
photograph, posing him as Peter Pan.
BARRIE
(to Michael)
Remember, you're Captain of the
Lost Boys... the boy who struck
Hook from the lists of man!
That's it - that's better... now
look straight into the camera,
and let's hear the drum beating
inside you!
Barrie returns to his camera, mounted on a tripod, and
disappears under the black hood. Nico stands beside him,
wearing his hat.
CLOSE SHOT as the shutter clicks: a sepia photograph of
Michael as Peter Pan, his sword raised, eyes blazing.
[
top
| previous
| next
]
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.