This movie is a fantasy about a fantasy, and as such it poses questions as to how we should view it. As a work of art, it evokes wonderfully the 'belle epoque' that centred on the first decade of the 20th century, when life was still permitted to be beautiful before it was torn apart by the shells and mustard gas of the decade that lay in store. And it does so with characters who enter stage left, exit stage right, and deliver the occasional sensitively lit monologue along the way. The most revealing moment is a shot of barely a couple of seconds duration, when after bidding goodnight to his wife who has entered her own separate bedroom, Barrie opens the door to his and reveals the briefest glimpse of a fantasy landscape within.
This is Barrie's fantasy, and the whole story is Barrie's life as he would have wished to fantasise it. Perhaps least satisfying is his cardboard cut-out wife, whom we see portrayed as a minor hindrance to his creative genius, especially as she dares to express jealousy that he prefers to spend all his time with another woman. We don't see the jealousy of Sylvia's husband Arthur, who was sufficiently inconsiderate not to die of cancer until about 9 years after Barrie first met Sylvia, and who most definitely resented his intrusion into their family life. This emotion has been transposed into Sylvia's mother, whose antagonism towards Barrie somehow does a 180 degree flip in the five-tissue fantasy scene that brings Neverland to Sylvia's home as she is on her deathbed.
Viewed as a work of biography, it falls apart through its gross inaccuracies. Viewed as a fantasy, it really ought to spend more time in Neverland, where it really belongs. If it is to successfully bridge the gap it needs to establish the link and better explain why Barrie needed his frequent departures into Neverland, certainly going a little deeper into this than the bland statement that his brother had died. This had in fact been an utterly profound event in his childhood. His mother had referred to this brother, David, as a boy who would never grow up. It was David who was the inspiration for Peter Pan, and Peter Llewelyn Davies merely provided the name. Peter Pan first appeared on stage three years prior to Arthur's death, so it was not inspired by the tormented angst of fatherless Peter. That's fantasy.
Pretty to watch. 7/10
This is Barrie's fantasy, and the whole story is Barrie's life as he would have wished to fantasise it. Perhaps least satisfying is his cardboard cut-out wife, whom we see portrayed as a minor hindrance to his creative genius, especially as she dares to express jealousy that he prefers to spend all his time with another woman. We don't see the jealousy of Sylvia's husband Arthur, who was sufficiently inconsiderate not to die of cancer until about 9 years after Barrie first met Sylvia, and who most definitely resented his intrusion into their family life. This emotion has been transposed into Sylvia's mother, whose antagonism towards Barrie somehow does a 180 degree flip in the five-tissue fantasy scene that brings Neverland to Sylvia's home as she is on her deathbed.
Viewed as a work of biography, it falls apart through its gross inaccuracies. Viewed as a fantasy, it really ought to spend more time in Neverland, where it really belongs. If it is to successfully bridge the gap it needs to establish the link and better explain why Barrie needed his frequent departures into Neverland, certainly going a little deeper into this than the bland statement that his brother had died. This had in fact been an utterly profound event in his childhood. His mother had referred to this brother, David, as a boy who would never grow up. It was David who was the inspiration for Peter Pan, and Peter Llewelyn Davies merely provided the name. Peter Pan first appeared on stage three years prior to Arthur's death, so it was not inspired by the tormented angst of fatherless Peter. That's fantasy.
Pretty to watch. 7/10