Here's a rather wonderful sketch of Barrie which I only just found, by the actress Lillah McCarthy, from her 1933 memoir, "Myself and My Friends":

What visions have poets seen which they have never told? Yet perhaps they do tell them – though not in words. How else to understand why it is that men like Hardy, Masefield and Barrie appear to those who know them greater even than their works?
They are transfigured by the vision. They irradiate us with its light. It must be so. I have sat with Barrie night after night in his flat high up over the Thames by Adelphi Terrace. He sits tucked up in his chair, puffing at his pipe, absorbed, silent. Now he stirs a little as though about to speak; but does not. Yet a great peace broods over this communion of silence. Now perhaps a word or two: sentences as short as in his plays – consummate master of compression that he is – a kind word, a whimsical word, never once in all the years we have sat and kept silence together has Barrie uttered an unworthy or an unkind thought. Only poets know such reticence. Barrie can talk well when he likes; he can encourage by what he says, but most by that strange gift he has – not of telling you but of making you feel his sympathy. Silence with Barrie is no empty silence. It is eloquent. He can be silent in many languages. His silence can freeze, but it can also thaw a heart which is numb. Wizard of words, no doubt, but owner of that more occult wizardry – expressive silence.
Yet silence is by no means always golden. It was from no malicious wish to see the effect of one’s silence on the other’s shyness that I arranged one evening a meeting between Barrie and Masefield. We went to Barrie’s flat after my work at the theatre was over. I introduced Masefield. They exchanged a word or two. Silence. Another word or two: another silence: the rest was silence. Good-will and mutual regard were there; but it was just like that. I must scream or run away. I ran; we all ran and trailed home along Adelphi Terrace without ever a word.

Yes, I saw it – and thought it brilliant, by far the best Peter Pan I’ve ever seen. I met with Sally Cook and the cast several times, and wrote the blurb for their program. Not that I would take any credit for the production – it was entirely hers.

It was one I wrote for NBC back in 1998, but never made because Gerard Depardieu beat us to it with his own French production ...

Thanks for saving me the trouble of watching it, although in truth I've never watched nor read any of the PP prequels/sequels ... sounds like the product of one of those Tinseltown studio exec brainstorming sessions - "Hey guys, suppose Alice and Peter were siblings?!"  "Gee, Bud, what a swell idea... now what poor hard-up hack can we get to write up this piece of marketing mish-mash..."

Years ago I was lucky enough to buy a complete run of Punch, from the very first issue in 1842 right up to 1958. I was glancing through the volume for 1906 when I spotted a full page review for the first 1905/06 revival of "Peter Pan, written by "O.S." which I take to have been Owen Seaman.
I can't say I agree with him, particularly his dislike of sentiment oscillating with humour, but let me not bias the opinion of others. I O.S.'s favourite line = "a cry of the heart the most appealing in all of the play - Peter Pan's "Come away, Tink: we don't want any silly mothers." I can't find that line in any of the surviving versions of the play, can you?
Just search for "Punch 1906" in the database ...

Never having seen Disney's original, I wouldn't know what to expect ...

I thought this long and excellent article (the naff pen drawings of Barrie notwithstanding) had been uploaded years ago , but apparently not, so my apologies, but here it is at last - just search for "My Reminiscences of Peter Pan" in the database documents ...