Before I recommend that you bring your children to see Peter Pan — and that's just what I'm going to do — let's think for a moment about all the adult themes in this celebrated fantasy. First there's Peter's desire never to grow up — a feeling more current among male 20-somethings than among impatient, precocious, can't-wait- till-I'm-big 6-year-olds. Then there's the putative power of the maternal instinct, evidenced by little Wendy once she meets Neverland's Lost Boys (feminist anti-essentialists take note: Wendy's working for the other side). Then there's that evergreen theme, the conflict of Good and Evil, with Peter and the Boys representing virtue and innocence while old Captain Hook plays the most infanticidal maniac since Richard III.
Continuing along, there's the ominous presence of the Crocodile — even Nemesis has a nemesis — and the ticking clock that reminds us, Pan or no Pan, that time is passing, passing, passing. And finally there's that most poignant of adult themes, the unthinkable loss of a child, and the insistence of keeping a window open — in the psyche? — in order that one day, any day, she may return.
Put it all together and you've got one of those stories that almost seem too solemn for little minds — until we realize that the kids will miss most of it in favor of the flying, the fighting and Tinkerbell. And by the time they catch the full implications of the story, they'll be too old to be traumatized.
So, yes, bring the children. But if you don't know any ankle-biters, I'm not sure this is a show you'll want to see on your own. Because the Asolo Theatre production of J.M. Barrie's classic play is silly, erratic, transparent and, from an adult perspective, not very fulfilling. The animals that play such pivotal roles in the story — Nana the dog nanny, and that hand-hungry crocodile — are presented as oversized toys, more huggable than credible. The cords that allow Peter and the young Darlings to fly are perfectly visible, and the death of Hook is so muted, he seems to be out for an underwater stroll. There's swordplay wherein the swords don't come near a human torso, and there's a Peter Pan himself — played by the ebullient Eric Shelley — who seems more a brand name than a thinking being.
Yes, there are a few occasions of real acting — David Breitbarth as the nefarious Captain Hook is riveting, and Devora Millman as Mrs. Darling has never been more persuasive. But almost everyone else is just required to strike an attitude — innocence or depravity, as the case may be — and there are so many bit players that much of the cast remains a stranger even after two hour-long acts.
There is one moment, however, that should affect most adults: Late in Act Two, Peter returns to Wendy's house to discover that Wendy — played feelingly here by the radiant Sarah Stockton — is a woman now with a child of her own. This too-brief encounter between immortal youth and all-too-mortal age is terribly relevant to anyone who's ever felt even a little philosophical about a new wrinkle or a gray hair. But the poignant moment passes when Peter realizes that Wendy's spawn means another generation of acolytes. Neverland, anyone?
This is not a play for a struggling 99-seat black box. There are more than 25 characters, many of whom are so buried in costumes and makeup, you hardly know who's who. There are four impressive sets by the talented Steven Rubin — the Darlings' London nursery, Neverland, an underground home and Hook's pirate ship — and there's occasional, not very impressive, singing. Besides the enormous dog and the chunky crocodile (both played/operated by Terry Small) there's an overgrown Ostrich (Deanna Gibson) whose provenance and purpose I cannot discern. One of the show's great successes is the figure of the fairy Tinkerbell — represented only by a spot of light that travels swiftly around the stage, illuminating lamps that were previously extinguished, and exhibiting at least as much personality as any of Peter's Boys or Hook's men.
So bring the kids. As for you, well, you won't be convinced, but you won't be bored. And here and there you may even rediscover a lost part of yourself, the part that, several decades ago, found Peter and Wendy and the whole Neverland crew fascinating.
You did your part once. You rooted for Peter. You believed.
Now it's time for your kids to clap Tinkerbell back into action.
Giving Us The BusinessHat Trick Productions is currently showing Richard Strand's The Death of Zukasky at the ¡Viva La Frida! Café y Galeria, and, sad to say, it ain't pretty. Strand's play about the cutthroat corporate world has nothing to tell us that we didn't already know about Machiavellianism in the workplace, blind ambition or the glass ceiling.
The show's four actors — Kevin Whalen, April Bender, Adam Belvo and Jack Holloway — never consistently find the slapstick rhythms that might make the play zing, and Joe Winskye's direction is competent but unremarkable.
This is a play that's overwhelmed by its improbabilities, from an exec who just happens to have fireworks handy to a conspirator who doesn't notice a top-secret file right in front of him. Kudos to Hat Trick for providing roles for recent graduates of the University of South Florida's theatre program. But if you want to become indispensable, you'll have to find scripts that matter. Zukasky ain't one of 'em. mark.leib@weeklyplanet.com or letters@weeklyplanet.com
This article appears in Dec 15-21, 2004.