Peter Pan

Cinderella flew through the air...

...far from all things ugly and ordinary.

When she landed at the ball...

...she found herself most impertinently surrounded by pirates.

There was Alf Mason...

...so ugly his mother sold him for a bottle of muscat.

Bill Jukes...

...every inch of him tattooed.

And, cruellest of them all...

...Hook, with eyes blue as forget-me-nots...

...save when he clawed your belly...

...with the iron hook he has instead of a right hand...

...at which time his eyes turn red.

"Girlie," said Hook, "we have come for ye glass slippers."

Who be you to order me about and call me "girlie"?

Take that! Take that! And that!

- Kill him! Run him through! - Commoner!

Hook came at her.

What happened then?

The brave Cinderella settled the matter once and for all...

- ...with her revolver. - A revolver?

The night on which the extraordinary adventures of these children...

...may be said to have begun...

...was the night Nana barked at the window.

But there was nothing there.

Not a bird or a leaf. So the children forgot about it.

For what troubles a grownup will never trouble a child.

- Dearest George, dear Mary. - Come in. It's cold.

Oh, what a journey I've had.

Bath time.

I won't be bathed!

Not fair.

Not fair, indeed. But Nana was the finest nurse on four paws.

No. No, I will not forgive you.

There never was a happier, simpler family.

Mr. Darling was a banker who knew the cost of everything, even a hug.

Mrs. Darling was the loveliest lady in Bloomsbury...

...with a sweet, mocking mouth that had one kiss on it...

...that Wendy could never get.

Though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.

And sometimes there was Aunt Millicent...

...who felt a dog for a nurse lowered the whole tone of the neighbourhood.

All right. A little less noise. Let's settle down. This is not a farm.

Bravo, George. Bravo.

Wendy's turn.

Wendy must tell a story.

Cecco, who carved his name on the governor at Goa.

Noodler, with his hands on backwards.

Heavens!

- Hook! - Hook?

Hook, whose eyes turn red as he guts you.

Upon my soul, how children are educated nowadays.

I'm afraid I'm not learned at all, Aunt.

But I do know a thing or two about pirates.

My unfulfilled ambition is to write a great novel in three parts...

...about my adventures.

What adventures?

I have yet to have them, but they will be thrilling.

But, child, novelists are not highly-thought-of in good society.

And there is nothing so difficult to marry as a novelist.

- Marry? - Marry?

Marry?

But, Aunt, Wendy is not yet 13.

Walk toward me, dear, that I may appraise you.

Go on.

Walk to your auntie. Stand up straight.

Stop it!

Turn around.

Yes. Oh, it's quite as I expected.

Wendy possesses a woman's chin.

Have you not noticed?

Observe her mouth.

There, hidden in the right-hand corner.

Is that a kiss?

- A kiss? - Like Mother's kiss.

A hidden kiss.

But what is it for?

It is for the greatest adventure of all.

They that find it have slipped in and out of heaven.

Find what?

The one the kiss belongs to.

My Wendy...

...a woman.

Almost a woman.

She must spend less time with her brothers and more time with me.

She must have her own room.

- A young lady's room. - Leave the--

The daughter of a clerk cannot hope to marry as well as that of a manager.

You must attend more parties...

...make small talk with your superiors at the bank.

Wit is very fashionable at the moment.

Wit.

But there was no sign of a body.

For none had fallen.

Certainly she had been dreaming.

If this is you in bed...

...what is this?

A boy.

Miss Fulsom dispatched a letter of out rage to Mr. Darling...

...that set new standards of prudery, even for her.

Yes, miss.

Mr. Darling had been practising small talk all afternoon.

I say, it's nice weather we're having.

And now his opportunity had arrived.

Sir Edward Quilter Couch, the president of the bank...

...was a man who enjoyed small talk...

...almost as much as a good balance sheet.

Wendy walked as one condemned.

And then...

...fate!

The letter!

Wait! Stop!

- Wendy, wait! - Wendy! Come back!

I say, what a splendid tie.

Wait!

You there!

Stop!

Wendy!

Nana, come back!

Two hundred pounds saved.

A judicious investment?

Oh, indeed.

I--

Oh, it's--

You there! Stop!

Wait!

Stop!

Wait!

It's-- It's--

Father!

I can explain!

No!

I have been humiliated!

- Father! - No!

I must become a man that children fear and adults respect...

...or we shall all end up in the street!

- Not so loud. - The neighbours will hear.

Let them hear! Let the whole world know!

This is not a nurse!

This is a dog!

Tomorrow, you begin your instruction with Aunt Millicent.

It's time for you to grow up!

Mother...

...can anything harm us after the night-lights are lit?

No, precious.

They are the eyes a mother leaves behind to guard her children.

Mother, must you go to the party?

Yes, Mother, you don't have to go. Father can go by himself.

By himself?

Your father is a brave man.

But he's going to need the special kiss to face his colleagues tonight.

Father? Brave?

There are many different kinds of bravery.

There's the bravery of thinking of others before oneself.

Now, your father has never brandished a sword...

...nor fired a pistol, thank heavens.

But he has made many sacrifices for his family...

...and put away many dreams.

Where did he put them?

He put them in a drawer.

And sometimes, late at night, we take them out and admire them.

But it gets harder and harder to close the drawer.

He does.

And that is why he is brave.

And remember, every cloud has a silver lining.

Oh, no, it's snowing. Oh, we'll catch our death.

Better death than gossip.

You will enter that drawing room with your head held high.

One. Two.

Three.

Come here, you.

I've got you.

Boy, why are you crying?

You can fly!

What is your name?

What is your name?

Wendy Moira Angela Darling.

Peter Pan.

Where do you live?

Second to the right and then straight on till morning.

- They put that on the letters? - Don't get any letters.

- But your mother gets letters. - Don't have a mother.

No wonder you were crying.

I wasn't crying about mothers.

I was crying because I can't get the shadow to stick.

And I wasn't crying!

I could sew it on for you.

This may hurt a little.

Might I borrow your knife?

Thank you.

Oh, the cleverness of me!

Of course, I did nothing.

You did a little.

A little?

Good night.

Wendy?

One girl is worth more than 20 boys.

You really think so?

I live with boys, The Lost Boys.

They are well-named.