Peter Pan Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Peter Pan script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the movie directed by P.J. Hogan and starring Jeremy Sumpter and Rachel Hurd-Wood and Jason Isaacs.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Peter Pan. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

Peter Pan Script


   



                   

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 worst 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! Take that!



  

                   

Commoner!



  

                   

Hook came at her.



  

                   

What happened then?

What happened then?



  

                   

The brave Cinderella settled

the matter once and for all...



  

                   

- with her revolver.

- With her 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 grown-up

will never trouble a child.



  

                   

Oh, dearest George, dear Mary.

Oh, what a journey I've had.



  

                   

Bath time.



  

                   

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

on 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, all right, all

right, all right. 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 am 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've yet to have them,



  

                   

but they will be

perfectly 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   .



  

                   

Walk toward me, dear,

that I may appraise you.



  

                   

Go on.



  

                   

Walk to your auntie.

Stand up straight.



  

                   

- Stop it!

- Turn around.



  

                   

Shh.



  

                   

Mm, 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...



  

                   

George, 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 outrage to Mr. Darling...



  

                   

that set new standards

of prudery, even for her.



  

                   

Yes, miss.



  

                   

Mr. Darling had been practicing

small talk all afternoon.



  

                   

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



   

                   

And now his opportunity had arrived.



   

                   

Sir Edward Quiller 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!

Come back!



   

                   

I say, what a splendid tie.



   

                   

Wait! You there! Stop!



   

                   

Wendy! Nana, come back!



   

                   

That's     saved.

A judicious investment?



   

                   

Indeed.



   

                   

Hi. Um...



   

                   

I, uh...



   

                   

You there, stop! Wait!



   

                   

Stop! Wait!



   

                   

Uh, uh, uh... I, uh...



   

                   

I can explain!



   

                   

No!



   

                   

I have been humiliated!



   

                   

No!



   

                   

I must become a man that

children fear and adults respect,



   

                   

or we shall all

end up in the street!



   

                   

- George, 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?



   

                   

Please, Mother. Yes,

Mother, you don't have to go.



   

                   

- Father can go by himself.

- Please, Mother.



   

                   

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's 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.

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.



   

                   

Oh!



   

                   

Shh!



   

                   

One, two,



   

                   

Three!



   

                   

Aha!



   

                   

Come here, you!



   

                   

I got you.



   

                   

Ha!



   

                   

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.



   

                   

- Aw, you did a little.

- A little?



   

                   

Good night.



   

                   

Wendy?



   

                   

One girl is worth more

than    boys.



   

                   

You really think so?



   

                   

I live with boys... the Lost Boys.

They are well named.



   

                   

Who are they?



   

                   

Children who fall out of their prams

when the nurse is not looking.



   

                   

If they are not claimed in seven days,

they are sent to the Neverland.



   

                   

- Are there girls too?

- Girls are much too clever to fall out of their prams.



   

                   

Peter, it is perfectly lovely

the way you talk about girls.



   

                   

I should like to give you...



   

                   

a... kiss.



   

                   

Don't you know what a kiss is?



   

                   

I shall know when you give me one.



   

                   

I suppose

I'm to give you one now.



   

                   

If you like.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

- How old are you, Peter?

- Quite young.



   

                   

- Don't you know?

- I ran away.



   

                   

One night, I heard my mother and father

talking of what I was to be when I became a man.



   

                   

So I ran away to Kensington

Gardens and I met Tink.



   

                   

- Tink?

- Tinker Bell.



   

                   

She's my fairy.



   

                   

- But there's no such thing as...

- Don't say that.



   

                   

Every time somebody says that, a

fairy somewhere falls down dead.



   

                   

And I shall never find her

if she's dead.



   

                   

You don't mean to tell me

there's a fairy in this room.



   

                   

We come to listen

to the stories.



   

                   

I like the one about the prince who couldn't

find the lady who wore glass slippers.



   

                   

Cinderella.



   

                   

Peter, he found her

and they... and they...



   

                   

lived happily ever after.



   

                   

- I knew it.

- Peter.



   

                   

I should like to give you...



   

                   

a... thimble.



   

                   

What's that?



   

                   

Tink!



   

                   

Tink! Tink, no!



   

                   

She's not very polite.



   

                   

She says if you try to

give me a thimble again,



   

                   

- she'll kill you.

- Oh.



   

                   

And I had supposed fairies

to be charming.



   

                   

- Peter, don't go.

- I have to tell the others about Cinderella.



   

                   

- But I know lots of stories, stories I could tell the boys.

- Come with me.



   

                   

- I... I cannot fly.

- I'll teach you.



   

                   

I'll teach you to ride the wind's back.

And away we go.



   

                   

Could John and Michael come too?



   

                   

Michael! Michael!



   

                   

- John! John!

- I didn't do it.



   

                   

There is a boy here

who is to teach us to fly.



   

                   

You offend reason, sir.



   

                   

I should like to

offend it with you.



   

                   

You just think happy thoughts,

and they lift you into the air.



   

                   

It's easy.



   

                   

I've got it! I've got it!



   

                   

Swords, daggers, Napoleon!



   

                   

- Stand back.

- Yahoo!



   

                   

John!



   

                   

Wendy! Wendy! Watch me!



   

                   

Puddings, mud pies, ice cream,

never to take a bath again!



   

                   

Michael!



   

                   

Whoa!



   

                   

Come away.

Come away to Neverland.



   

                   

Oh. What about Mother?



   

                   

- Father?

- Nana?



   

                   

- There are mermaids.

- Mermaids?



   

                   

- Indians!

- Indians?



   

                   

- Pirates!

- Pirates?



   

                   

John, wait for me!



   

                   

May I introduce my wife...



   

                   

- Mary.

- Mary.



   

                   

Mary.



   

                   

- Delighted.

- Thank you, Sir Edward.



   

                   

Forget them, Wendy.

Forget them all.



   

                   

Come with me where you'll never, never

have to worry about grown-up things again.



   

                   

What is it? What's wrong?



   

                   

Never is an awfully long time.



   

                   

It would be delightful to report

that they reached the nursery in time.



   

                   

But then there

would be no story.



   

                   

But you're covered

in dog hair, my darling.



   

                   

- Hello, old chap.

- Good evening.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Whoa-ho!



   

                   

Higher!



   

                   

Who are you?



   

                   

I'm John.



   

                   

John.



   

                   

Take hold of this.

Ta-da!



   

                   

Both hands.



   

                   

Pass it on.



   

                   

Michael, take hold of my ankle.



   

                   

Wendy, take hold of my ankle!



   

                   

And whatever happens,

don't... let...



   

                   

go!



   

                   

Neverland.



   

                   

* Lying, thieving

a life of sin *



   

                   

* A-pirating we go *



   

                   

* We're sure to meet below *



   

                   

* Fire the cannons

Pour the rum *



   

                   

* Deal the cards

For night has come *



   

                   

* A-pirating we go *



   

                   

Devil bird!



   

                   

Cap'n?



   

                   

Cap'n? As I was sitting

wide-eyed on my watch,



   

                   

I noticed it was wintertime on the

water and springtime on the shore.



   

                   

I says to meself,

"That's early for spring to be astir.



   

                   

Spring's not due till  :   p.m."



   

                   

Check the time yourself,

Cap'n, and then tell...



   

                   

I was dreaming, Smee, of Pan.



   

                   

Pan, Cap'n?



   

                   

And in my dream,



   

                   

I was a magnanimous fellow...



   

                   

full of forgiveness.



   

                   

I thanked Pan...



   

                   

for cutting off my hand...



   

                   

and for giving me

this fine hook...



   

                   

for disembowelling

and ripping throats...



   

                   

and other such homely uses...



   

                   

as combing my hair.



   

                   

- So, Pan did you a favour then, Cap'n?

- A favour?



   

                   

He threw my hand

to a crocodile.



   

                   

The beast liked it so much,

it's followed me ever since,



   

                   

licking its lips

for the rest of me.



   

                   

You call that a favour?



   

                   

No. No. No. No.



   

                   

- Thank you.

- Thank Lucifer, the beast swallowed a clock.



   

                   

If it wasn't for the ticking,

it'd have had me by now.



   

                   

Why did you wake me, Smee?



   

                   

Like I said, Cap'n,

the ice is melting.



   

                   

The sun is out.

And the flowers are all in bloom.



   

                   

He's back.



   

                   

Forty gunner.



   

                   

She must do    knots

under full sail.



   

                   

Noodler, with his hands

on backwards!



   

                   

Bill Jukes!

Every inch of him tattooed.



   

                   

Hook!



   

                   

Let's take a closer look.



   

                   

- Yahoo!

- Peter!



   

                   

Watch this.



   

                   

Whoa-ho-ho!



   

                   

Whoa! My hat!



   

                   

Ugly Smee!

Ugly, fat Smee!



   

                   

Solar eclipse.



   

                   

Dark in here.

Let me out. Let me out!



   

                   

Can't see.



   

                   

Dark in here. Candle.



   

                   

I need candle. Help! Help!



   

                   

Fetch Long Tom.



   

                   

Fire!



   

                   

Help! Help!



   

                   

Tink, find Wendy.

Leave the rest to me.



   

                   

Wendy.



   

                   

Oh, Captain Hook!



   

                   

Pan!



   

                   

- Stay with him!

- You can't catch me.



   

                   

- Over here!

- Fire!



   

                   

Timber!



   

                   

Whoa!



   

                   

Michael, are you shot?



   

                   

I haven't checked yet!

But there's something worser!



   

                   

Oh, what could be worse?



   

                   

My thoughts aren't very happy!



   

                   

Happy thoughts!



   

                   

- Happy thoughts.

- What would Mom and Dad do?



   

                   

- Napoleon!

- Damnation!



   

                   

Reload the cannon! Quickly!



   

                   

Reload the cannon?

But Cap'n, he's gone.



   

                   

Any other contributions?



   

                   

Search the jungle!

Bring me those children!



   

                   

- What is it?

- It's a large white bird.



   

                   

- Quite ugly too. No!

- Give me it!



   

                   

When Peter's away,

I'm in charge!



   

                   

I get to look

through the telescope.



   

                   

It's coming closer.



   

                   

My God, I've gone blind!



   

                   

- I'm blind. I've gone blind.

- I'm blind.



   

                   

Hello, Tink. Where's Peter?



   

                   

- Hello, Tink.

- She's blinded me!



   

                   

- Hello, Tink.

- Hello, Tink.



   

                   

Any more news of Cinderella?



   

                   

Now, Tinker Bell was not all bad.



   

                   

Sometimes she was all good.



   

                   

But fairies are so small they only

have room for one feeling at a time.



   

                   

Tink says the bird's

called a..."Wendy."



   

                   

And Peter wants us to...



   

                   

Oh, Peter! Oh!



   

                   

Shoot it down.



   

                   

Well, we have our orders.

Shoot the Wendy bird.



   

                   

Aye, aye!



   

                   

Ready? Aim!



   

                   

Fire!



   

                   

Bye-bye!



   

                   

Three, two,



   

                   

one!



   

                   

I got it. I got it!



   

                   

That is no bird.



   

                   

- It is a lady.

- And Tootles...



   

                   

Tootles has killed her.



   

                   

Ha! I'm back! Great news. I

know what happened to Cinderella.



   

                   

She defeated the pirates. There was

stabbing, slicing, torturing, bleeding...



   

                   

and they lived happily ever after.



   

                   

- Well, that's a relief, I must say.

- Greater news!



   

                   

I have brought you she that told of

Cinderella. She is to tell us stories!



   

                   

She is...



   

                   

Dead.



   

                   

Tragic.



   

                   

- Awful.

- Good shot, though.



   

                   

Whose arrow?



   

                   

Mine, Peter.



   

                   

Strike, Peter.



   

                   

Strike true.



   

                   

The Wendy lives!



   

                   

It's my kiss.



   

                   

My kiss saved her.



   

                   

I remember kisses.



   

                   

Let me see it.



   

                   

Aye, that is a kiss.

A powerful thing.



   

                   

Let us carry her down

to the house.



   

                   

Hands.



   

                   

They're a bit dirty.



   

                   

She must stay here and die.



   

                   

- No!

- Oh, how could I have thought that? Stupid.



   

                   

Sorry.



   

                   

We shall build

a house around her.



   

                   

With a chimney!



   

                   

And a door knocker!

And windows!



   

                   

Tink did it.



   

                   

Tinker Bell?

Oh, Tinker Bell?



   

                   

- Was it you, Tink?

- Hallelujah. Hallelujah.



   

                   

Then I am your friend no more.



   

                   

First impressions

are very, very important.



   

                   

Here she is.

Look loveable.



   

                   

Wendy lady, for you we built

this house with a door knocker.



   

                   

- And a chimney.

- One, two, three.



   

                   

Please be our mother.



   

                   

Oh.



   

                   

Well, it is frightfully fascinating.



   

                   

But, you see,

I've had no real experience.



   

                   

- Do you tell stories?

- Yes.



   

                   

- Then you're perfect.

- Very well.



   

                   

I will do my best.



   

                   

Sorry about the blindfold.



   

                   

We must be cautious. There are

some nasty characters about.



   

                   

If Hook discovers our hideout,

he'll gut us.



   

                   

- How dreadful!

- Oh, we live for it!



   

                   

- But I...

- Time to meet Father, Mother.



   

                   

So looking forward

to being your son.



   

                   

Welcome, Mother.



   

                   

Discipline. That's what

fathers believe in.



   

                   

You must spank the children immediately

before they try to kill you again.



   

                   

In fact, we should kill them.



   

                   

Peter!



   

                   

Father!



   

                   

I agree that they

are perfectly horrid,



   

                   

but kill them and they shall

think themselves important.



   

                   

- So important.

- And unique.



   

                   

I suggest something...



   

                   

far more dreadful.



   

                   

Medicine.



   

                   

It's the most beastly,

disgusting stuff.



   

                   

The sticky, sweet kind.



   

                   

Kill us, please!

Kill us, please!



   

                   

Littlest first. Michael?



   

                   

- Michael. John. My brothers!

- Who?



   

                   

Hello?



   

                   

It's louder from inside

this rock.



   

                   

How very peculiar.



   

                   

- Happy thoughts!

- Swords, daggers, Napoleon!



   

                   

How humiliating.



   

                   

John, there's something worser.



   

                   

Princess Tiger Lily.



   

                   

We search as ever for Peter Pan...



   

                   

and his secret hideout.



   

                   

Luckily, two boys

of his acquaintance...



   

                   

were seen falling

into this part of the jungle.



   

                   

Have you seen them?



   

                   

She says,

"Sorry, but, no."



   

                   

My Hook thinks

you have, Princess.



   

                   

I say, unhand that savage, you...



   

                   

you...you savage!



   

                   

Now, mermaids are not

as they are in storybooks.



   

                   

They are dark creatures...



   

                   

in touch with all things mysterious.



   

                   

If Hook had captured

Wendy's brothers,



   

                   

the mermaids would know.



   

                   

Oh, how sweet.



   

                   

Are mermaids not sweet?



   

                   

They'll sweetly drown you

if you get too close.



   

                   

Hook has your brothers

at the Black Castle.



   

                   

Like all surprise attacks,

it must be conducted...



   

                   

improperly.



   

                   

Put the children on the rock.



   

                   

Sorry, Your Highness.

Any last words?



   

                   

Beg for your lives.



   

                   

Sirs! My brother and I

are English gentlemen.



   

                   

English gentlemen do not beg.



   

                   

Please!



   

                   

Please! Please!

Please don't kill us!



   

                   

Please don't kill me, either.

I've never done anything...



   

                   

Aah! It's cold! It's cold!



   

                   

- Help!

- Come on. Fly to the rescue,



   

                   

and then I'll shoot you right

through your noble intentions.



   

                   

I brought these.

Can you use it?



   

                   

Promise me one thing.

Leave Hook to me.



   

                   

I promise.



   

                   

- Wait here for my signal.

- Wait here?



   

                   

Peter!



   

                   

Thus Wendy first laid eyes on

the dark figure who haunted her stories.



   

                   

She saw the piercing eyes

and was not afraid,



   

                   

but entranced.



   

                   

Mr. Smee?



   

                   

- That you, Cap'n?

- Brimstone and gall, man.



   

                   

What do you think you're doing?



   

                   

Well, we've put the children

on the rope, Cap'n, like you said.



   

                   

- Set 'em free!

- Set 'em free?



   

                   

- Well, what about your trap?

- Set them free, or I'll plunge my hook in you.



   

                   

I don't know what he wants with 'em.

I'm just a blithering idiot, aren't I?



   

                   

Chain 'em up. Let 'em go.



   

                   

And take your cat with ya.



   

                   

- Mr. Smee?

- Aye, Cap'n?



   

                   

- Any sign of him?

- No, Cap'n.



   

                   

Where are the children?



   

                   

It's all right, Cap'n.

We let 'em go.



   

                   

You what?



   

                   

We let 'em go.



   

                   

You... let... them... go.



   

                   

Who are you, stranger?



   

                   

I am James Hook,

captain of the Jolly Roger.



   

                   

If you are Hook,

then who am I?



   

                   

You are a codfish.



   

                   

Tell me, Hook,

have you another name?



   

                   

Aye.



   

                   

- Vegetable?

- No.



   

                   

- Mineral?

- No.



   

                   

Animal?

Yes.



   

                   

- Man?

- No!



   

                   

- Boy?

- Yes!



   

                   

- Ordinary boy?

- No!



   

                   

- Wonderful boy?

- Yes! Do you give up?



   

                   

- Yes!

- I am...



   

                   

- History.

- Peter, look out!



   

                   

There he is!



   

                   

It is your requiem mass, boy.



   

                   

- Ready to lose the other one?

- Not this time.



   

                   

Ooh-ooh, girlie.



   

                   

Who be you to call me girlie?



   

                   

Open the gate!



   

                   

Teddy!



   

                   

If I were you, I'd give up.



   

                   

If you were me, I'd be ugly.



   

                   

No!



   

                   

Ready?



   

                   

Fire!



   

                   

Get the boat!



   

                   

Turn the boat around.



   

                   

Turn it around!



   

                   

And now, Peter Pan,



   

                   

you shall die.



   

                   

To die will be

an awfully big adventure.



   

                   

Oh, no.



   

                   

You.



   

                   

Smee!



   

                   

Smee!



   

                   

It's all a bit tragic,

really, isn't it?



   

                   

The warrior is wounded.



   

                   

She is calling forth the spirit

of the eagle to heal the warrior.



   

                   

It's so impressive.



   

                   

The warrior is healed.



   

                   

- Peter?

- Shh.



   

                   

Peter?



   

                   

Evil day.



   

                   

He has found himself a...



   

                   

Wendy?



   

                   

And Hook is all alone.



   

                   

- Me too.

- You too?



   

                   

Banished? Tsk, tsk.

The dog.



   

                   

I think you and I...



   

                   

should talk.



   

                   

Wendy?



   

                   

It's only make-believe,

isn't it?



   

                   

That you and I are...



   

                   

Oh. Yes.





 

                   

Peter Pan (    ) CD  -   .   fps



 

                   

Wendy?



 

                   

You see, it would make me seem

so old to be a real father.



 

                   

Peter,



 

                   

- what are your real feelings?

- Feelings?



 

                   

What do you feel?



 

                   

Happiness? Sadness?



 

                   

- Jealousy?

- Jealousy?



 

                   

- Tink!

- Anger?



  

                   

Anger.



  

                   

Hook.



  

                   

Love?



  

                   

- Love?

- Love.



  

                   

I have never heard of it.



  

                   

I think you have, Peter.



  

                   

I daresay you've

felt it yourself...



  

                   

for something or... someone.



  

                   

Never. Even the sound

of it offends me.



  

                   

Peter.



  

                   

Why do you spoil everything?

We have fun, don't we?



  

                   

I taught you to fight and to fly.

What more could there be?



  

                   

There is so much more.

What? What else is there?



  

                   

I don't know. I think it

becomes clearer when you grow up.



  

                   

Well, I will not grow up!

You cannot make me!



  

                   

- I will banish you like Tinker Bell!

- I will not be banished!



  

                   

Then go home.

Go home and grow up.



  

                   

- And take your feelings with you!

- Peter!



  

                   

Peter, come back! Peter!



  

                   

Peter did not want Wendy to leave.



  

                   

Once again,

he visited Wendy's home...



  

                   

to see if Mr. And Mrs. Darling

had closed the window yet.



  

                   

But, as before, he saw

Mrs. Darling in her chair...



  

                   

by the window, her eyes tired

with searching the heavens.



  

                   

Wendy.



  

                   

Wendy.



  

                   

Wendy.



  

                   

We can't both have her, lady.



  

                   

John! Michael!



  

                   

Wendy!



  

                   

The window's closed.



  

                   

- George! George, help me!

- What is it? Have they returned?



  

                   

The window is closed.

It must always be open for them.



  

                   

Always. Always.



  

                   

They've not returned.



  

                   

* Avast belay the English brig *



  

                   

* We took and quickly sank *



  

                   

* And for a warning

to the crew *



  

                   

* We made them walk the plank *



  

                   

* Yo ho, yo ho

the frisky plank *



  

                   

* He walks along it so *

- Welcome. Shh, shh.



  

                   

* Till it goes down

and you's go down *



  

                   

* To tooral looral loo. *

- Wrote it himself.



  

                   

Wendy, darling.



  

                   

Muscat, miss?



  

                   

I'm a little girl.



  

                   

Rum, then?



  

                   

No, thank you.



  

                   

I'm told you ran away from home.



  

                   

I... I had never

thought of it that way.



  

                   

I suppose I did.



  

                   

How wonderful.



  

                   

My parents wanted me to grow up.



  

                   

Growing up is such

a barbarous business,



  

                   

full of inconvenience

and pimples.



  

                   

Things were simpler

when I was younger.



  

                   

And then the mess starts,

the feelings come.



  

                   

Pan is so lucky

to be untroubled by them.



  

                   

Oh, no. He cannot love.



  

                   

It's part of the riddle

of his being.



  

                   

Cigar?



  

                   

Oh, there, there.



  

                   

It doesn't

have to be this way.



  

                   

Didst thou ever want to be

a pirate, my hearty?



  

                   

I once thought

of calling myself...



  

                   

Red-Handed Jill.



  

                   

Oh, what a marvellous name!



  

                   

That's what we'll call you

if you join us.



  

                   

But what would my duties be?

I could not be expected to pillage.



  

                   

Do you, um, by any chance,

tell stories?



  

                   

And they all lived happily...



  

                   

ever... after.



  

                   

Bravo!



  

                   

Bravissimo!



  

                   

Might I have time

to consider your generous offer?



  

                   

Absolutely.

Of course, you must.



  

                   

My fellows will return you

whence they found you.



  

                   

None of my crew will follow you.

I swear it.



  

                   

My new obsession is you,



  

                   

not dear Peter Pan

or his whereabouts.



  

                   

What would Mother think

of my becoming a pirate?



  

                   

Until we meet again.



  

                   

What would Mother think

if she became a pirate?



  

                   

But the more Wendy thought of her

mother, the less she could remember.



  

                   

- John.

- I wasn't doing anything!



  

                   

- John!

- Yes?



  

                   

What is your father's name?



  

                   

My father's name? Peter.



  

                   

- Father!

- Yea, Peter!



  

                   

Michael, who is your mother?



   

                   

- Well, he got the easy one.

- You are my mother, Wendy.



   

                   

And isn't she just first-class?



   

                   

There's a new pirate

aboard the Jolly Roger.



   

                   

The mermaids say she

is called Red-Handed Jill.



   

                   

Another adventure, boys.

Come on!



   

                   

Red-Handed Jill?

She sounds quite fearsome!



   

                   

Fearsome?

She's just a storyteller.



   

                   

Just a storyteller?



   

                   

Red-Handed Jill

may be a brave swordsman.



   

                   

A girl like her?



   

                   

Brave or not,

I shall run her through!



   

                   

Then ready yourself, Peter Pan,



   

                   

for I am Red-Handed Jill.



   

                   

- Mother!

- Wendy?



   

                   

'Tis true, John.



   

                   

Your sister has been

invited to piracy.



   

                   

But, Mother, Hook is a fiend.



   

                   

- And a bounder.

- On the contrary,



   

                   

I find Captain Hook

to be a man of feeling.



   

                   

Mother and Father

are fighting again.



   

                   

Sir, you are both

ungallant and deficient.



   

                   

How am I deficient?



   

                   

You're just a boy.



   

                   

Are you really to be a pirate, Mother?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

We are going home.



   

                   

Home?



   

                   

Leave Neverland?



   

                   

We must.



   

                   

We have forgotten

our parents.



   

                   

We must leave at once

before we...



   

                   

in turn are forgotten.



   

                   

I've forgotten... my parents.



   

                   

We must leave.



   

                   

If you wish it.



   

                   

- "If you wish it"?

- If you wish it!



   

                   

Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill!



   

                   

Don't fret, my dear.

With Pan dead,



   

                   

we'll both be free.



   

                   

I have arranged a fairy guide

to lead you back.



   

                   

Peter,



   

                   

we've been talking.



   

                   

What if you

came back with us?



   

                   

Can we go, Peter?



   

                   

- Please, Peter, can we go?

- If you wish it.



   

                   

Get your things.



   

                   

You too, Peter.



   

                   

Would they send me to school?



   

                   

- Yes.

- Then... to an office?



   

                   

I suppose so.



   

                   

Soon I should be a man.



   

                   

- You can't catch me and make me a man.

- Peter.



   

                   

I want always

to be a boy and have fun.



   

                   

You say so, but I think

it is your biggest pretend.



   

                   

Oh! Ooh. Ooh-la-la!



   

                   

Bye-bye!



   

                   

There's no such thing

as fairies.



   

                   

Don't forget your medicine.



   

                   

Surprise.



   

                   

A new era begins.



   

                   

Take them away.



   

                   

No medicine.

I don't wanna take medicine.



   

                   

No.



   

                   

Lest he should be taken alive,



   

                   

Hook always carried upon

his person a dreadful poison...



   

                   

distilled when he was weeping

from the red of his eye.



   

                   

No.



   

                   

A mixture of malice,

jealousy and disappointment,



   

                   

it was instantly fatal

and without antidote.



   

                   

I was not asleep!



   

                   

Wendy?



   

                   

Wendy? Are you there?



   

                   

Tink.



   

                   

You drank my medicine.



   

                   

Tinker Bell?



   

                   

Tink?



   

                   

Why is your light going out?



   

                   

Tink, why are you so cold?



   

                   

Stay warm, Tink.

Stay warm.



   

                   

Please come back.



   

                   

Please, Tink, don't leave me.



   

                   

Forgive me, Tink.

I'm so sorry.



   

                   

I'm so sorry, Tink.

Please forgive me.



   

                   

Tink!



   

                   

There's still room for a storyteller.



   

                   

I'd rather die.



   

                   

- Shame.

- Cap'n, Cap'n. Look at the sky.



   

                   

And look at the water.



   

                   

Pan must be dead.



   

                   

No! No! Impossible!



   

                   

Ship's company, hats off!



   

                   

A moment's silence

for our fallen enemy,



   

                   

Peter Pan.



   

                   

We sail at dawn!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

I do. I do.



   

                   

I do believe in fairies.

I do. I do.



   

                   

- No! No! No!

- Help! Help!



   

                   

Girlies always go first.



   

                   

I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

I do. I do.



   

                   

I do believe in fairies!



   

                   

I do! I do!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

I do. I do.



   

                   

I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

- You what?

- I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

- I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!

- I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

I do believe in fairies!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies.

I do. I do.



   

                   

I do believe in fairies. I do. I do.



   

                   

- I do believe in fairies...

- Stow that gab, or I'll run you through!



   

                   

"Believe in fairies! I do! I do!"



   

                   

I do believe in fairies!

I do! I do!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

- I do. I do.

- I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

I do.

I do.



   

                   

I do believe in fairies. I do! I do!



   

                   

- * I do believe in fairies *

- I do! I do!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies!

I do! I do!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies!

I do! I do!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies!

I do! I do!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies.

I do. I do.



   

                   

- I do believe in fairies.

- I do! I do!



   

                   

- I do believe in fairies.

- I do believe in fairies!



   

                   

- I do believe in fairies.

- I do believe in fairies.



   

                   

- I do believe in fairies!

- I do believe in fairies!



   

                   

I...



   

                   

Oh, Tink, you're alive!

Oh, Tink!



   

                   

You're alive! You're alive!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies!

I do! I do!



   

                   

I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!



   

                   

He's alive!



   

                   

- Oh, help.

- It's Hook or me this time.



   

                   

Why is he? What is he?



   

                   

I'll have one last story

before you die.



   

                   

The story of Peter Pan.



   

                   

- Once upon a time...

- Once upon a time...



   

                   

Brutes, Red-Handed Jill

is gonna tell us a story.



   

                   

There was a boy

named Peter Pan...



   

                   

who decided

not to grow up.



   

                   

Skip the prologue.



   

                   

So he flew away to the

Neverland where the pirates are.



   

                   

Was one of them pirates

called Noodler?



   

                   

- Yes.

- Captain, did you hear?



   

                   

I am in a story.



   

                   

What fun he must have had.



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

But he was rather lonely.



   

                   

Lonely?



   

                   

He needed a Wendy.



   

                   

I need a Wendy.



   

                   

Very exciting.

Two dead already.



   

                   

- Why a Wendy?

- He liked my stories.



   

                   

- What stories?

- Cinderella.



   

                   

Snow White. Sleeping Beauty.



   

                   

Love stories?



   

                   

Adventures in which good

triumphs over evil.



   

                   

They all end in a kiss.



   

                   

A kiss.



   

                   

He does feel.



   

                   

He feels about you.



   

                   

She told him stories.

He taught her to fly.



   

                   

How?



   

                   

You just think happy thoughts.

They lift you into the air.



   

                   

- Alas, I have no happy thoughts.

- That brings you down.



   

                   

How else?



   

                   

- No!

- Leave her alone!



   

                   

It's fairy dust.

You need fairy dust!



   

                   

Michael!



   

                   

What of Pan?



   

                   

Will unhappy thoughts

bring him down?



   

                   

He has no unhappy thoughts.



   

                   

Aw.



   

                   

How if his Wendy

walks the plank!



   

                   

Plank! Plank! Plank! Plank!

Plank! Plank! Plank! Plank!



   

                   

Plank! Plank! Plank! Plank!

Plank! Plank! Plank! Plank!



   

                   

Plank! Plank! Plank! Plank!

Plank, plank, plank!



   

                   

You know, I really am

terribly sorry about this.



   

                   

The irony.

It comes for Hook...



   

                   

and gets a story.



   

                   

No!



   

                   

No!



   

                   

Did you hear her

hit the water?



   

                   

Because I didn't.



   

                   

The beast has swallowed her whole.



   

                   

Starboard side!



   

                   

- It looks for more, Captain.

- Then let's give it more.



   

                   

To the plank!



   

                   

Silence, puling spawn!



   

                   

I'll show you the road

to dusty death.



   

                   

Huh?



   

                   

Into the rigging with you!



   

                   

Hunt it down!

Move, you scabs!



   

                   

What was that?



   

                   

It's here, Captain! Devil! Demon!



   

                   

Accursed beast!

Your time is up!



   

                   

Hello.



   

                   

So, Peter Pan.



   

                   

This is all your doing.



   

                   

Aye, James Hook.

It's all my doing.



   

                   

Proud and insolent youth,



   

                   

prepare to meet thy doom.



   

                   

Have at thee!



   

                   

Leave him! He's mine.



   

                   

Now!



   

                   

Here you are. There.

I never wanted to be a pirate anyway.



   

                   

I'm gonna spend the rest

of my life doing good works.



   

                   

I got him!



   

                   

Villain! Ne'er-do-well!



   

                   

Libertine!



   

                   

It's Hook! He flies!



   

                   

And he likes it!



   

                   

You want to fly? Let's fly.



   

                   

Not bad... for an old man.



   

                   

I know what you are!



   

                   

I am the best there ever was!



   

                   

You're a tragedy.



   

                   

Me? Tragic?



   

                   

She was leaving you, Pan.



   

                   

Your Wendy was leaving you.



   

                   

Why should she stay?



   

                   

What have you to offer?

You are incomplete.



   

                   

She'd rather grow up

than stay with you.



   

                   

Let us now take a peep

into the future.



   

                   

What's this I see?

'Tis the fair Wendy.



   

                   

She's in her nursery.

The window's shut.



   

                   

I'll open it!



   

                   

I'm afraid the window's barred.

I'll call out her name.



   

                   

- She can't hear you.

- No!



   

                   

- She can't see you.

- Wendy!



   

                   

- She's forgotten all about you.

- Stop! Please! Stop it!



   

                   

And what is this I see?



   

                   

There is another in your place.



   

                   

He is called... husband.



   

                   

No! Peter!



   

                   

You die alone...



   

                   

and unloved.



   

                   

Unloved.



   

                   

Just like me.



   

                   

- No!

- No!



   

                   

Silence, all,



   

                   

for Wendy's farewell.



   

                   

Peter.



   

                   

I'm sorry. I must grow up.



   

                   

But... this is yours.



   

                   

'Tis just a thimble.



   

                   

How like a girl!



   

                   

By all means, my beauty.



   

                   

Give Peter Pan

your precious thimble.



   

                   

This belongs to you...



   

                   

and always will.



   

                   

Ohh.



   

                   

That was no thimble.



   

                   

That was her hidden kiss.



   

                   

Brace yourselves, lads.



   

                   

'Tis a powerful thing.



   

                   

Pan, you're pink!



   

                   

Split my infinitives!



   

                   

No! I have won!



   

                   

Whoo-hoo!



   

                   

You... are old.



   

                   

But I won!



   

                   

Old.



   

                   

And alone!



   

                   

Alone.



   

                   

No! I won! I won!



   

                   

Done for.



   

                   

Happy thoughts.

Happy thoughts.



   

                   

Ripping! Killing! Killing!

Choking! Lawyers! Dentists!



   

                   

Old! Alone! Done for!



   

                   

Old! Alone! Done for!



   

                   

Old! Alone! Done for!

Pus!



   

                   

Uh, children's blood.

Puppies' blood.



   

                   

- Old! Alone! Done for! Old! Alone! Done for!

- Disease! Scabs!



   

                   

Kittens dashed on spikes! No!



   

                   

- Old! Alone! Done for!

- White death! Black death!



   

                   

- Any death! A nice cup of tea!

- Old! Alone! Done for!



   

                   

Old! Alone! Done for!

Old! Alone! Old. Alone.



   

                   

Done for!



   

                   

Done for.



   

                   

Brimstone and gall!

Silence, you dogs!



   

                   

Or I'll cast anchor in you.



   

                   

We won! We won!



   

                   

- Ready to cast off?

- Aye. Aye, Captain.



   

                   

Oh, the cleverness of you.



   

                   

Mother.



   

                   

Nana.



   

                   

Let us break it

to her gently.



   

                   

Oh, Nana.



   

                   

I dreamt my little ones

had come back.



   

                   

I dreamed they were asleep...



   

                   

in their beds.



   

                   

But they will never come back.



   

                   

They did not understand

how she could not see them.



   

                   

But, you see, she saw them in their beds

so often in her dreams...



   

                   

that she thought this was just

the dream hanging around her still.



   

                   

Hello, Mother. It really is us.



   

                   

Micheal, John,

Wendy.



   

                   

We're back.



   

                   

George, come quickly!



   

                   

I'm coming! What is it?



   

                   

We're back, Father.

Did you miss us?



   

                   

You're back.



   

                   

Good. Excellent.



   

                   

Well done.



   

                   

Oh, my angel.



   

                   

Of course I missed you.



   

                   

All right, boys, follow me.

Get your hands off that wallpaper.



   

                   

Now, come on in. The silliest thing.

These young gentlemen say that...



   

                   

You're back.



   

                   

Mother, Father, I would like

to introduce the Lost Boys.



   

                   

- Hello.

- Hats.



   

                   

May I keep them?



   

                   

Well, I-I...



   

                   

I mean, the expense.



   

                   

Think of the neighbours.



   

                   

Dash the neighbours!



   

                   

And dash the expense!



   

                   

Welcome to the family, boys.



   

                   

Thank you, thank you,

thank you, thank you.



   

                   

Will this help the expense, Father?



   

                   

Anyone for a pony ride?



   

                   

- I'm Tootles.

- Tootles, darling.



   

                   

- I'm Curly.

- Curly, darling.



   

                   

And what's your name?



   

                   

Nibs. I plan the battles.



   

                   

Would you like

a mother, Nibs?



   

                   

- Yes.

- Oh!



   

                   

- What is the matter, child?

- I couldn't find the house.



   

                   

And now everyone has

a mother, except me.



   

                   

Is your name Slightly?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Then I am your mother.



   

                   

How do you know?



   

                   

I feel it in my bones.



   

                   

Mother!



   

                   

George! Mary! I have a son!



   

                   

There could not have been

a lovelier sight,



   

                   

but there was none to see it...



   

                   

except a strange boy who

was staring in at the window.



   

                   

Peter Pan had countless joys...



   

                   

that other children

can never know,



   

                   

but he was looking

at the one joy...



   

                   

from which he must be

forever barred.



   

                   

To live would be

an awfully big adventure.



   

                   

Peter!



   

                   

You won't forget me, will you?



   

                   

Me? Forget?

Never.



   

                   

Will you come back?



   

                   

To hear stories... about me.



   

                   

But I was not to see

Peter Pan again.



   

                   

Now I tell his story

to my children,



   

                   

and they will tell it

to their children...



   

                   

and so it will go on.



   

                   

For all children grow up...



   

                   

except one.









 
Special help by SergeiK