When I entered my sophomore year of high school, I quickly heard the
news that a spring musical had already been chosen and that the musical
in question was Peter Pan. Now, I wasn’t exactly an active member of the theater department. I’d desperately wanted to be in The Sound of Music,
but alas! That didn’t happen. But I was sure I could correct whatever
mistakes I made the first time around to prevent me from winning a part
in my favorite musical. I would be in Peter Pan, and that
would be almost as good. Most of the theater folks did not seem to share
my enthusiasm. I heard comment after comment about what a lame show we
were staging, and I wondered why these students were bothering to try
out if they hated the play so much. But such is theater, I guess. You
soldier on, no matter how little regard you have for the material
itself. But I geared up.
I very much wanted to sing I’ve Gotta Crow, but I couldn’t find the accompaniment for the song anywhere. I wound up with Distant Melody,
coupled with the monologue in which Tinkerbell drinks Peter’s medicine.
The song went okay, but I’m sure I would’ve garnered more attention
with the song I wanted. The monologue was decent, but they cut me off
before the end, so I didn’t even get to crow there. I really had hoped
to show off my rooster imitating skills. Nonetheless, it seemed a good
sign when I was called into the other room for a dance audition. That
hadn’t happened the year before. Unfortunately, a few minutes of trying
to keep up with the hand-clapping in Ugg-a-Wugg convinced both me
and the dance director that I did not possess sufficient coordination
for such a venture, and thus ended my foray into musical theater. Sniff.
So I can’t help but feel a tinge of regret when I watch the film
version of the Broadway production starring Mary Martin and Cyril
Ritchard. These days, the possibility of my being in a musical seems
about as distant as the possibility of being able to fly (which, by the
way, is the superpower I would choose above all others). Nonetheless, it
remains one of my favorite musicals.
No doubt, there’s some
weird stuff going on here, with Peter Pan played by a gal (a woman in
her 40s, no less); Wendy played by the same actress who plays her
daughter Jane, indicating that ultimately the two girls are the same to
Peter; and Wendy’s uptight father played by the same actor who portrays
Captain Hook. Ritchard stands as a sort of metaphor for adults and
adulthood in general, the implication being that they are always on hand
to attempt to ruin everyone’s fun, and there’s no escaping them even in
Neverland. Mr. Darling reminds me of Mr. Banks in Mary Poppins.
Both men try to keep a tight rein on their household, but in reality
they have no control over their children at all, and a supernatural
visitor is required in order for the father to attain a healthy
relationship with his offspring. In this case, however, Wendy (Maureen
Bailey) is the fussbudget and the one who eventually does the leaving,
much to Peter’s dismay.
Mary Martin has a grand old time
playing Peter, though it’s hard to forget entirely that she’s a woman.
Her Peter is bright and energetic, and oh the joy whenever he takes
flight! Wendy, by contrast, is far too concerned with adult matters, and
we soon realize that she’s almost too old as it is to venture into
Neverland. Her relationship with Peter is complicated by their differing
perspectives. Peter has been a boy for years and years, and the only
role he can imagine Wendy in is that of his mother. He is perplexed and
even repulsed when realization dawns that she may be more interested in a
romantic relationship. Wendy’s siblings, intellectual John (Joey Trent)
and cuddly Michael (Kent Fletcher), quickly assimilate into the Lost
Boys, but Wendy’s place in the group is unique – and threatened by the
Indian princess Tiger Lily (Sondra Lee), who competes for Peter’s
affections. A trace of that tension comes across in Ugg-a-Wugg,
the complicated gesture of friendship between Tiger Lily’s tribe and
Peter’s. This scene is pivotal in that Peter and Tiger Lily had been
enemies up until this time, but now they’ve come to the realization that
they must unite against a common foe: adulthood (Captain Hook, but also
the unwanted advances of Wendy).
To my mind, the most
entertaining character in the whole bunch is the slightly flamboyant,
overdramatic Captain Hook, who insists upon striking up the band every
time he makes an announcement, who embarrasses himself by developing a
crush on a woman who turns out to be Peter in disguise (a woman playing a
boy playing a woman!), who bonks his faithful servant Smee (Joe E.
Marks) on the head whenever the mood hits him. His songs plotting the
demise of Peter and his friends are deliciously devious, backed by the
silly instrumentation provided by his devout band of pirates, while his
flirtatious back-and-forth with Peter in Oh, My Mysterious Lady
is priceless. That’s not to say that Peter doesn’t have delightful
musical numbers all his own. In fact, most of the songs star him, from
the delightfully cocky I Gotta Crow and the joyful I’m Flying to the boisterous Wendy and I Won’t Grow Up, which exemplifies the author’s driving point that childhood is far preferable to the drudgery of adult life.
Because this is about as direct an adaptation as you’re likely to see
of a Broadway show, some of the elements come across as rather cheesy to
an audience used to sophisticated special effects. The fly lines are
often visible. The nonhuman residents of Neverland are people dressed in
strange costumes; the dog responsible for babysitting Wendy and her
brothers is also a person is a costume, which has to have been
incredibly uncomfortable. Tinkerbell is indicated only by a flashlight
and a bell, though I have to admit this is a pretty cool effect, and as
she is my least favorite character I’m happy to see and hear as little
of her as possible. My school shelled out the big bucks to get a laser
image of Tinkerbell to project whenever she was supposed to be on stage,
but in this case I think simplicity is better, and it would have saved
the theater department a nice chunk of change to stick with the
flashlight. The sets are fairly sparse, leaving much to the imagination,
though perhaps not as much as in Cinderella.
The score is delightful to listen to, if not to play; my friends who
were in the band that year just about keeled over trying to make sense
of the complicated orchestrations, worsened by the fact that the sheet
music was riddled with hand-written notes to the actors involved in the
original production.
My dad finds Peter Pan annoying and bizarre, and I can see his point – especially when I watch the Disney
version. But my affection for the fairy world J. M. Barrie created
remains, especially as manifested in this masterful adaptation of the
Broadway production. If I can’t live it and I can’t be in it, I’m happy
at least to be able to watch it.
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