67 INT. LEINSTER CORNER - WINDOW. 1907. DAY
From outside the window: Barrie stares vacantly at the
rain, his mind far away.
CANNAN (O.S.)
We, the undersigned, protest
against the present censorship of
plays, an office instituted for
political, and not the so-called
moral ends to which it has been
perverted...
68 INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1907. DAY
Barrie continues to stare blankly out of the window while
Cannan reads the Draft Petition to Frohman and two other
members of the Committee. Mary Barrie sits beside Cannan at
Barrie's desk, handing him the pages of the typed draft as
he reads. The emphasis of the scene, however, remains on
Barrie, and most of Cannan's dialogue is heard OFF CAMERA.
CANNAN
... an office authoritarian in
procedures, opposed to...
FROHMAN
(interposing)
Autocratic.
CANNAN
Autocratic, yes - much better.
(changes draft)
Autocratic in procedure, opposed
to the spirit of the
Constitution, contrary to common
justice and to common sense -
MARY BARRIE
(overlapped)
That's the bit I like!
Barrie remains totally detached from the Committee, staring
out of the window, preoccupied with his own thoughts.
CANNAN (O.S.)
We assert that the Censorship has
not been exercised in the
interests of morality, and that
the public, through their proper
represent-atives, are the best
judges of their own morals...
Cannan's voice fades as Barrie's LAPS OVER -
BARRIE (V.O.)
The Lovely Moment. Finest dream
in the world. That it is early
morning, and I am out on a
highland road. It is a time
before I knew anything of the
world, and its pain, and sorrow.
I am a boy again. Everyone I have
loved is still alive. It is the
morning of my life.
Cannan's voice resumes in the background, but the CAMERA
remains on Barrie, staring out of the window.
CANNAN (O.S.)
... and to these ends they claim
that the office of Censorship
shall be abolished. The following
authors have already promised
their support: J. M. Barrie,
Harley Granville-Barker, Gilbert
Cannan, Joseph Conrad, John
Galsworthy...
While Cannan continues, the telephone rings. Frohman
answers.
CANNAN
(O.S., cont'd)
Thomas Hardy, Anthony Hope, A. E.
Housman, Henry James, John
Masefield, A. E. W. Mason,
Somerset Maugham, George
Meredith...
Frohman passes the telephone to Barrie -
FROHMAN
(to Barrie, overlapped)
It's Sylvia - for you...
Barrie takes it from Frohman, a note of premonition already
in his voice as he speaks -
BARRIE
(into phone)
Sylvia? Jimmy...
Barrie listens in silence to the news of Arthur's death
while Cannan drones on in the background.
CANNAN
(O.S., cont'd)
Gilbert Murray, George Bernard
Shaw, Algernon Swinburne, H. G.
Wells, and W. B.Yeats.
We hope that you too will lend
your support by signing the
enclosed petition and returning
it at once to: J. M. Barrie,
Leinster Corner, Lan- caster
Gate, London West. Yours truly,
etc., etc.
Barrie hangs up the telephone, tears welling in his eyes.
CANNAN
(O.S., cont'd)
How does that sound to you,
Jimmy?
69 INT. EGERTON HOUSE - NURSERY. 1907. DAY
The nursery has been stripped of furniture, with only a few
tea-chests and skeletal beds awaiting removal. The door
opens, and Sylvia drifts into the room, Ophelia-like,
dressed in widow's weeds and wearing a black veil. She
moves towards the window, oblivious to her surroundings.
All the colours in the scene are burnt out by the back
lighting from the window.
SYLVIA (V.O.)
My dearest Jimmy, I think of you
so often, and I know how you
loved Arthur, and that helps me
in my sorrow. You will love me
always, won't you, and help me to
live through the long, long
years. How shall I do it, I
wonder? It all seems so
impossible. We were so utterly
and altogether happy, and that
happiness is the most precious
thing on earth. I am so grateful
to you, and will show it one day
I hope, but just now I am full of
deadly pain and sorrow, and I
often wonder I am alive. I always
sleep with my George now, and it
comforts, more than I can say, to
touch him, and I feel Arthur must
know. He will live again in them,
and that must be my dear comfort
till I go to him at last. How we
longed to grow old together...
Oh my dear friend, it is all so
utterly impossible to understand.
The boys are loving and thought
ful, but they have all got to
grow up, and be men, and for
Arthur's sake I must fight that
fight too.
I think of him almost always now
as he was before the tragic
illness, when God gave him the
finest face in the world.
SLOW FADE OUT.
70 INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1908. DAY
FADE UP on the drawing-room of the Llewelyn Davies family's
new London home overlooking Campden Hill Square. Sylvia, no
longer wearing black, is arranging curtains with the help
of Mary Hodgson. From upstairs comes the sound of someone
belting out Yip-i-addy-i-ay-i-ay on the piano.
MARY HODGSON
(holding up curtain)
Is that alright, Mrs Arthur?
SYLVIA
I think that's about right, Mary.
MARY HODGSON
(flinching at noise)
I sometimes wonder if those boys
ever realised that the soft pedal
wasn't built into a piano for
nothing.
SYLVIA
(smiling)
Let Jack play the piano as loud
as he likes. Now let's try these
red ones...
A hollow note in Sylvia's tone belies her apparent
emergence from grief. There is a knock on the front-door:
Mary Hodgson glances through the window.
MARY HODGSON
It's Mr Crompton Llewelyn Davies.
Shall I show him in?
SYLVIA
Please, Mary.
Mary Hodgson goes out into the hall while Sylvia continues
arranging curtains.
CROMPTON (O.S.)
Good morning, Mary.
(calling)
Morning, boys.
PETER & MICHAEL
(O.C., calling)
Morning, Uncle Crompton!
Crompton enters the drawing-room alone, Mary Hodgson
closing the door behind him.
CROMPTON
Morning, Sylvia.
SYLVIA
(pleasantly)
Morning, Crompton.
CROMPTON
How's the move going?
SYLVIA
(indicating curtains)
I think they fit rather well,
don't you?
CROMPTON
Yes indeed - I remember them
well.
SYLVIA
Would you like some coffee?
CROMPTON
No thank you. I only stopped by
for a moment to see how you were
settling in.
A pause. Evidently Crompton has stopped by for other
reasons as well.
CROMPTON
I, er... I was having lunch with
brother Maurice yesterday, and he
brought up the subject of the
boys' future. Have you had any
thoughts on the problem?
SYLVIA
What problem?
CROMPTON
Well... how you're all going to
manage?
SYLVIA
Oh, we're managing very well.
CROMPTON
I meant financially. Five boys
are quite an expense,
particularly if they're going to
Eton, and poor Arthur can't have
left you with very much.
SYLVIA
He left me with everything I
need. As far as the money's
concerned, Jimmy Barrie's offered
to pay for the boys' education.
CROMPTON
Doesn't that rather compromise
things?
SYLVIA
I don't see why. He enjoys paying
for them.
CROMPTON
Well - the suggestion is that we
brothers set up a trust fund for
you and the boys...
SYLVIA
(interposing)
I don't see that that's
necessary.
CROMPTON
But it would make you
independent.
SYLVIA
I've always been independent. All
my life.
Crompton has little alternative but to abandon the subject.
CROMPTON
Well. As long as you know what
you're doing. Still, if ever you
find the boys becoming too much
of a handful... next holidays,
for instance?
SYLVIA
That's very thoughtful of you,
but - well actually next holidays
Jimmy Barrie's invited us all to
Switzerland.
CROMPTON
Ah. Well perhaps the summer then.
SYLVIA
Perhaps.
Sylvia laughs tentatively.
CROMPTON
(smiling)
Do you remember the boys'
pleasure when Arthur used to take
them to the theatre?
(pause)
Penny seats, then on to the
A.B.C. for supper.
(gets up)
Goodbye, Sylvia. I'll see myself
out.
Crompton goes, leaving Sylvia to think about his oblique
warning.
71 INT. SUITE - GRAND HOTEL, CAUX - SWITZERLAND. 1909. DAY
Barrie and Michael sit opposite each other in the opulence
of the Grand Hotel, Caux, playing a game of draughts.
Michael, now aged nine, has already won several games - and
a pile of Swiss francs off Barrie. A Hotel Waiter clears
away the remnants of their room-service lunch in the
background.
BARRIE
(moving his piece)
One, two, buckle my shoe -
(to the Waiter)
Er, Garçon - what time does the
afternoon post usually arrive?
WAITER
Excusez-moi, monsieur?
MICHAEL
(without looking up from
the game)
Il veut savoir à quelle heure
arrive la poste.
WAITER
Eh bien, monsieur, la poste
arrive à seize heures et demie.
MICHAEL
Merci.
(to Barrie)
Sixteen, er... Half-past four.
Your turn.
The Waiter leaves the room. Michael watches Barrie's move,
realising that Barrie is again going to lose.
MICHAEL
I hope you've got enough money to
pay me.
BARRIE
Oh, a Scotsman's never short of
ways of making money. I remember
once I charged a boy a shilling a
day to do his mourning for him.
His mother had just died, and he
was finding it rather uphill work
to look solemn - especially as
the football season had just
started. So I volunteered to do
his mourning for him....
While Barrie talks, Michael makes his triumphant move.
BARRIE
Every day before school I used to
swop my green jacket for his
black one, and then I'd go and
stand in a corner of the yard and
squeeze my fist into one eye like
this, and the tears would come
out of the other, while he ran
gaily off to play football...
The story tails off with a groan from Barrie as he sees
that Michael has again won.
MICHAEL
That's another ten francs you owe
me. Do you want another game?
BARRIE
Uh-huh.
MICHAEL
Can you afford it?
BARRIE
No.
Barrie adds another ten francs to Michael's pile of
winnings while Michael sets up the pieces for another game.
MICHAEL
(vaguely)
I love crying... it makes me go
all misty inside. But nothing
much makes me cry any more. I
used to, lots. But not any more.
BARRIE
Bet I can make you cry.
MICHAEL
I bet you can't.
BARRIE
Ten francs?
MICHAEL
Done.
Barrie jots down something in his notebook.
MICHAEL
Am I for a story?
BARRIE
No no, just a thought.
MICHAEL
About me?
BARRIE
About your father.
MICHAEL
You can't make me cry about him.
I thought I would forever, but I
didn't at all except for a bit.
No response from Barrie, who continues writing.
MICHAEL
Mother still cries though,
doesn't she.
(pause)
Do you love her?
BARRIE
Of course I love her.
MICHAEL
(a teasing smile)
More than Mrs Barrie?
BARRIE
You shouldn't ask questions like
that.
MICHAEL
But you said I could ask you
anything in the world.
BARRIE
When was I so rash?
MICHAEL
When we were playing the Game.
BARRIE
Ah, but that was only in the
Game.
MICHAEL
Well let's play the Game now -
I'm bored of winning draughts all
the time.
(pause)
Anyway, what have you written
down?
BARRIE
(reading)
Michael said, "Did father leave
me anything in his Will?" I said,
"Yes. Disease of the liver."
MICHAEL
You never said that.
BARRIE
I will next time.
MICHAEL
Come on, let's play the Game.
Michael picks up a little red book entitled "My Confession
Book" and turns to a blank page, his pen poised to record
Barrie's answers.
MICHAEL
(reading question)
"Who do you like best?"
BARRIE
Best of whom?
MICHAEL
Well... me and Nico and Peter and
Jack and George.
BARRIE
I suppose all the...
MICHAEL
(interrupting quickly)
Oh, and you're not allowed to say
"all the same".
Barrie puffs on his pipe a moment, pondering Michael's
conceit.
BARRIE
Jack.
MICHAEL
Liar.
BARRIE
Peter.
MICHAEL
Liar.
BARRIE
Well if you know the answer, why
ask the question?
Michael writes "Michael" in the book.
MICHAEL
I just like to hear you say it.
BARRIE
(a raised eyebrow)
You flatter yourself.
MICHAEL
(reading next question)
"What's the most exciting thing
that has ever happened to you?"
BARRIE
Hmm. The most exciting thing
that ever happened to me was...
(beat)
Something beginning with 'M'.
Michael thinks he knows the answer, but plays innocent.
MICHAEL
Money?
BARRIE
Besides money.
MICHAEL
Mother?
BARRIE
Warmer.
MICHAEL
(suddenly lighting up)
Me... Michael!
BARRIE
Your conceit appalls even me.
MICHAEL
But it is me, isn't it? Oh, do
say it's me...
(whispering)
I won't tell anybody.
BARRIE
Well, alright, though it pains me
to confess it.
Yes, me is the most exciting
thing that ever happened to me.
Not you, mind. Me.
MICHAEL
But... at least I'm the second
most exciting thing, aren't I?
BARRIE
Oh no. No, no - the second most
exciting thing that ever happened
to me was when I was a boy. A
school friend of mine came
running up to the house one day
and told me that an old man who
used to give us sweeties had slit
his throat with a razor, and if I
came quickly I should see the
blood.
MICHAEL
(wide-eyed)
And did you?
BARRIE
I most certainly did. It was just
about the most thrilling thing
I'd ever seen. There was enough
blood to keep us in black
puddings for six months.
Michael laughs.
BARRIE
And now it's my turn. Why didn't
you go skiing with the others?
MICHAEL
To be with you. Till death us do
part.
BARRIE
Then hold out your wedding
finger.
MICHAEL
Why?
BARRIE
So I can blow a smoke ring on it.
MICHAEL
But we're both boys.
Michael holds out his finger, and Barrie blows a smoke-ring
over it.
BARRIE
You speak for yourself.
MICHAEL
You're a boy too.
BARRIE
No, I fear I'm what's commonly
known as grown up.
MICHAEL
Well you're not common, and
you're definitely not grown up.
You're old, but you're not grown
up. You're... you're one of us.
A pause.
BARRIE
How do you know?
MICHAEL
Because. Because if you were
really grown up, I don't think
you'd waste all your money on a
boy like me.
Michael grins cockily.
BARRIE
You presume to know me very well.
MICHAEL
(blithely)
Inside out.
(ad-libbing)
Without a doubt
Is how I see
The mystery
Of J.M.B.
(preening his feathers)
Quite the coming poet, ain't I?
BARRIE
Hmm. To be a poet is a great
thing, but to be a poet and not
to know it is the most glorious
plight in the world.
(pause)
Besides, there's no money in
poetry.
Michael gathers up his winnings.
MICHAEL
Maybe not. But there's plenty of
poetry in money.
BARRIE
(a sigh)
Heigh-ho.
The door opens and George, Cannan and Mary Barrie enter the
room, laden with skiing equipment. Mary Barrie is in high
spirits, laughing and talking with Cannan as George walks
over to Barrie. He is now 15, and is suffering from a
degree of adolescent boorishness, as well as a sprinkling
of spots.
GEORGE
(to Barrie)
Hello, Uncle Jim - we've had an
absolutely spanking time! Gilbert
the-Filbert took us all lugeing
on Mont Rochers, and then we
drove over to Montreux for
lunch... I got a bit tipsy!
BARRIE
Where's your mother?
GEORGE
She's downstairs in the billiards
room with the others. Come on,
we're going to have a Slosh
Tournament.
BARRIE
No, I've still got a lot of work
to do...
(pointedly)
And so has Mr Cannan.
GEORGE
Well don't be long.
Barrie's mood changed from the moment the others returned.
Michael too has grown moody, resenting the intrusion. He
sits close beside Barrie as George leaves and Cannan comes
over.
CANNAN
Has there been any news?
BARRIE
(indifferently)
Yes - Mr Frohman's telegraphed to
say that the Lord Chamberlain has
banned Granville-Barker's play,
so I suppose we'd better draft
some sort of a reply.
Mary Barrie utters a cry of delight.
CANNAN
Oh, that's wonderful!
BARRIE
(mildly contemptuous)
Really.
(to Michael)
Go on, you'd better go with
George. I'll be down later.
MICHAEL
Oh, can't I stay with you?
BARRIE
(with intentional
sadism)
You'd be wasting your time,
there's no money in it.
Barrie abandons Michael and joins Cannan and Mary Barrie.
The CAMERA remains on Michael, a storm brewing. He glares
at the ground a moment, then suddenly flings the draught
board on the floor, scattering the pieces hither and
thither.
MARY BARRIE
Michael! Whatever's the matter?
MICHAEL
(at Barrie)
I don't want your money...!
Michael pulls the money from his pocket, slams it down on
the table, turns round and walks out of the room, kicking
the door as he goes. A pause.
MARY BARRIE
(to Barrie)
What's the matter with Michael?
BARRIE
(with quiet pride)
It's the poet in him.
(a shrug)
Just a game we play.