The Charlotte Observer
Published: Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Who'd have thought the best Christmas movie of the decade would be one that never mentions the holiday, doesn't contain a flake of snow or a strip of tinsel, and takes place a century ago during a warm British summer?
Miramax is releasing "Finding Neverland" at Thanksgiving so it'll be fresh in the minds of Oscar voters. Yet the timing is ideal for audiences, too. "Neverland" embodies concepts we associate with this season: the ability to retain childlike optimism and hope, the notion that people are essentially good if you trust and encourage them, the faith that a life after death will reunite believers.
We begin not in a church but a London theater, where the latest farce by J.M. Barrie has failed to please. American-born producer Charles Frohman (Dustin Hoffman) frets over lost money and Barrie's lost reputation. Barrie (Johnny Depp), the least dour Scotsman on earth, brushes off the failure, just as he's brushed off marital difficulties with his stifled wife, Mary (Radha Mitchell).
The childless author looks up from his park bench one day to see his Newfoundland romping with four kids, who turn out to be the sons of recently widowed Sylvia Davies (Kate Winslet). Barrie improvises a scene where the Newfie becomes a dancing bear and he its trainer, and all but stubbornly literal Peter Davies (Freddie Highmore) are enchanted.
Barrie and the boys inspire each other over the succeeding months. He renews their interest in play and provides a father figure for all but Peter; they stimulate him to begin a children's show about pirates, fairies, Indians and a boy who can fly but will never grow up. Two people don't share in this joy: Mary, who feels ever more isolated, and Sylvia's mother (Julie Christie), who believes her daughter should look for a real husband and dump this whimsical, sexless surrogate.
Published: Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Who'd have thought the best Christmas movie of the decade would be one that never mentions the holiday, doesn't contain a flake of snow or a strip of tinsel, and takes place a century ago during a warm British summer?
Miramax is releasing "Finding Neverland" at Thanksgiving so it'll be fresh in the minds of Oscar voters. Yet the timing is ideal for audiences, too. "Neverland" embodies concepts we associate with this season: the ability to retain childlike optimism and hope, the notion that people are essentially good if you trust and encourage them, the faith that a life after death will reunite believers.
We begin not in a church but a London theater, where the latest farce by J.M. Barrie has failed to please. American-born producer Charles Frohman (Dustin Hoffman) frets over lost money and Barrie's lost reputation. Barrie (Johnny Depp), the least dour Scotsman on earth, brushes off the failure, just as he's brushed off marital difficulties with his stifled wife, Mary (Radha Mitchell).
The childless author looks up from his park bench one day to see his Newfoundland romping with four kids, who turn out to be the sons of recently widowed Sylvia Davies (Kate Winslet). Barrie improvises a scene where the Newfie becomes a dancing bear and he its trainer, and all but stubbornly literal Peter Davies (Freddie Highmore) are enchanted.
Barrie and the boys inspire each other over the succeeding months. He renews their interest in play and provides a father figure for all but Peter; they stimulate him to begin a children's show about pirates, fairies, Indians and a boy who can fly but will never grow up. Two people don't share in this joy: Mary, who feels ever more isolated, and Sylvia's mother (Julie Christie), who believes her daughter should look for a real husband and dump this whimsical, sexless surrogate.
David Magee's script adapts Allan Knee's play "The Man Who Was Peter Pan." It plays fast and loose with facts: There were five Davies boys, and Barrie knew them for many years before writing "Peter Pan." More crucially, Davies' husband was alive when "Pan" premiered on Dec. 27, 1904.
If this were a biographical film, its most serious omission would be Barrie's sexual attitudes; his marriage was reportedly unconsummated, and Barrie - who was physically almost the exact opposite of the tall, handsome, assured Depp - may not have been interested in women. (That would explain the totally platonic connection between the playwright and Sylvia Davies in this film.)
But "Neverland" is not a biography. It's an allegory about creativity and imagination, about seeking in art a happiness we cannot sustain in life. (That was a common theme in Barrie's novels and plays.) It's also about the value of retaining a childlike wonder while acquiring a mature understanding of the world. On those levels, it succeeds superbly.
Director Marc Forster makes a smooth transition from the gritty Southern tragedy "Monster's Ball" to the top-hatted gentility of Edwardian England. He lets the movie slip into full-blown fantasy sequences often enough to reveal the fertility of Barrie's brain while keeping us grounded in reality.
Johnny Depp has finally won me over to rabid support after "Neverland" and "Pirates of the Caribbean." He gives the most controlled, least mannered performance of his career, staying sweet and rueful while suggesting unseen emotional depths. He also has an excellent rapport with serious young Highmore, which bodes well for their remake of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" under director Tim Burton.
Winslet, who seems maternal for the first time, stretches successfully here. The elegant Mitchell and self-possessed Hoffman fill out their small roles properly, and Christie is quietly severe as the dragon lady who finally drops some of her protective scales.
Forster and Magee are wise enough not to insist on a scene of reconciliation or apology for this old lady; she simply bursts into spontaneous applause to save Tinkerbell's life during a performance of "Peter Pan." The implication is clear: The oldest and most hidebound among us can become joyful children again, if we have proper stimulation and a mind that hasn't slammed shut.
If this were a biographical film, its most serious omission would be Barrie's sexual attitudes; his marriage was reportedly unconsummated, and Barrie - who was physically almost the exact opposite of the tall, handsome, assured Depp - may not have been interested in women. (That would explain the totally platonic connection between the playwright and Sylvia Davies in this film.)
But "Neverland" is not a biography. It's an allegory about creativity and imagination, about seeking in art a happiness we cannot sustain in life. (That was a common theme in Barrie's novels and plays.) It's also about the value of retaining a childlike wonder while acquiring a mature understanding of the world. On those levels, it succeeds superbly.
Director Marc Forster makes a smooth transition from the gritty Southern tragedy "Monster's Ball" to the top-hatted gentility of Edwardian England. He lets the movie slip into full-blown fantasy sequences often enough to reveal the fertility of Barrie's brain while keeping us grounded in reality.
Johnny Depp has finally won me over to rabid support after "Neverland" and "Pirates of the Caribbean." He gives the most controlled, least mannered performance of his career, staying sweet and rueful while suggesting unseen emotional depths. He also has an excellent rapport with serious young Highmore, which bodes well for their remake of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" under director Tim Burton.
Winslet, who seems maternal for the first time, stretches successfully here. The elegant Mitchell and self-possessed Hoffman fill out their small roles properly, and Christie is quietly severe as the dragon lady who finally drops some of her protective scales.
Forster and Magee are wise enough not to insist on a scene of reconciliation or apology for this old lady; she simply bursts into spontaneous applause to save Tinkerbell's life during a performance of "Peter Pan." The implication is clear: The oldest and most hidebound among us can become joyful children again, if we have proper stimulation and a mind that hasn't slammed shut.
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