Charlie Chaplin meets JMB (1921)

Full Work

(From: My Trip Abroad, Harper, 1922)

There is Barrie. He is pointed out to me just about the time I recognise him myself. This is my primary reason for coming. To meet Barrie. He is a small man, with a dark moustache and a deeply marked, sad face, with heavily shadowed eyes. But I detect lines of humour lurking around his mouth. Cynical? Not exactly.

I catch his eye and make motions for us to sit together, and then find that the party has been planned that way anyhow...

But everyone seems jovial except Barrie. His eyes look sad and tired. But he brightens as though all along there had been that hidden smile behind the mask. I wonder if they are all friendly toward me, or if I am just the curiosity of the moment...

What should I say to Barrie? Why hadn't I given it some thought?...

Barrie tells me that he is looking for someone to play Peter Pan and says he wants me to play it. He bowls me over completely. To think that I was avoiding and afraid to met such a man! But I am afraid to discuss it with him seriously, am on my guard because he may decide that I know nothing about it and change his mind.

Just imagine, Barrie has asked me to play Peter Pan. It is too big and grand to risk spoiling it by some witless observations, so I change the subject and let this golden opportunity pass. I have failed completely in my first skirmish with Barrie...

Barrie is speaking again about moving pictures. I must understand. I summon all my scattered faculties to bear upon what he is saying. What a peculiarly shaped head he has.

He is speaking of The Kid, and I feel that he is trying to flatter me. But how he does it! He is criticising the picture.

He is very severe. He declares that the "heaven" scene was entirely unnecessary, and why did I give it so much attention?... All of these things he is discussing analytically and profoundly, so much so that I find my feeling of self-consciousness is rapidly leaving me...

I am thrilled at his interest and appreciation and it is borne in upon me that by discussing dramatic construction with me he is paying a very gracious and subtle compliment. It is sweet of him. It relieves me of the last vestige of my embarrassment.

"But, Sir James, " I am saying. "I cannot agree with you--." Imagine the metamorphosis. And our discussion continues easily and pleasantly. I am aware of his age as he talks and I get more of his spirit of whimsicality... I am wondering if Barrie resents age, he who is so youthful in spirit.

Barrie is whispering, "Let's go to my apartment for a drink and a quiet talk." And I begin to feel that things are most worth while...

Somehow his apartment seems just like him, but I cannot convey the resemblance in a description of it. The first thing you see is a writing desk in a huge room beautifully furnished, and with dark wood panelling. Simplicity and comfort are written everywhere. There is a large Dutch fireplace in the right side of the room, but the outstanding piece of furniture is a tiny kitchen stove in one corner. It is polished to such a point that it takes the aspect of the ornamental rather than the useful. He explains that on this he makes his tea when servants are away. ..

Our talk drifts to the movies and Barrie tells me of the plans for filming Peter Pan. We are on very friendly ground in this discussion and I find myself giving Barrie ideas for plays while he is giving me ideas for movies, many of them suggestions that I can use in comedies. It is a great chatfest.

There is a knock at the door. Gerald du Maurier is calling. He is one of England's greatest actors and the son of the man who wrote Trilby. Our party lasts far into the night, until about three in the morning. I notice that Barrie looks rather tired and worn, so we leave, walking with du Maurier up the Strand. He tells us that Barrie is not himself since his nephew [Michael Llewelyn Davies] was drowned, and that he has aged considerably.

(From: My Trip Abroad, Harper, 1922)

There is Barrie. He is pointed out to me just about the time I recognise him myself. This is my primary reason for coming. To meet Barrie. He is a small man, with a dark moustache and a deeply marked, sad face, with heavily shadowed eyes. But I detect lines of humour lurking around his mouth. Cynical? Not exactly.

I catch his eye and make motions for us to sit together, and then find that the party has been planned that way anyhow...

But everyone seems jovial except Barrie. His eyes look sad and tired. But he brightens as though all along there had been that hidden smile behind the mask. I wonder if they are all friendly toward me, or if I am just the curiosity of the moment...

What should I say to Barrie? Why hadn't I given it some thought?...

Barrie tells me that he is looking for someone to play Peter Pan and says he wants me to play it. He bowls me over completely. To think that I was avoiding and afraid to met such a man! But I am afraid to discuss it with him seriously, am on my guard because he may decide that I know nothing about it and change his mind.

Just imagine, Barrie has asked me to play Peter Pan. It is too big and grand to risk spoiling it by some witless observations, so I change the subject and let this golden opportunity pass. I have failed completely in my first skirmish with Barrie...

Barrie is speaking again about moving pictures. I must understand. I summon all my scattered faculties to bear upon what he is saying. What a peculiarly shaped head he has.

He is speaking of The Kid, and I feel that he is trying to flatter me. But how he does it! He is criticising the picture.

He is very severe. He declares that the "heaven" scene was entirely unnecessary, and why did I give it so much attention?... All of these things he is discussing analytically and profoundly, so much so that I find my feeling of self-consciousness is rapidly leaving me...

I am thrilled at his interest and appreciation and it is borne in upon me that by discussing dramatic construction with me he is paying a very gracious and subtle compliment. It is sweet of him. It relieves me of the last vestige of my embarrassment.

"But, Sir James, " I am saying. "I cannot agree with you--." Imagine the metamorphosis. And our discussion continues easily and pleasantly. I am aware of his age as he talks and I get more of his spirit of whimsicality... I am wondering if Barrie resents age, he who is so youthful in spirit.

Barrie is whispering, "Let's go to my apartment for a drink and a quiet talk." And I begin to feel that things are most worth while...

Somehow his apartment seems just like him, but I cannot convey the resemblance in a description of it. The first thing you see is a writing desk in a huge room beautifully furnished, and with dark wood panelling. Simplicity and comfort are written everywhere. There is a large Dutch fireplace in the right side of the room, but the outstanding piece of furniture is a tiny kitchen stove in one corner. It is polished to such a point that it takes the aspect of the ornamental rather than the useful. He explains that on this he makes his tea when servants are away. ..

Our talk drifts to the movies and Barrie tells me of the plans for filming Peter Pan. We are on very friendly ground in this discussion and I find myself giving Barrie ideas for plays while he is giving me ideas for movies, many of them suggestions that I can use in comedies. It is a great chatfest.

There is a knock at the door. Gerald du Maurier is calling. He is one of England's greatest actors and the son of the man who wrote Trilby. Our party lasts far into the night, until about three in the morning. I notice that Barrie looks rather tired and worn, so we leave, walking with du Maurier up the Strand. He tells us that Barrie is not himself since his nephew [Michael Llewelyn Davies] was drowned, and that he has aged considerably.