"All children grow up--except one."
Thus begins my favorite book, play, story--whatever you call it, I love it.
This week I saw a performance of Peter Pan at the Barbican Centre performed by the National Theatre of Scotland. This was not the Peter Pan I've grown up with, it was really really dark and mysterious. It was unlike anything I've seen before. Yet I loved it. Something about it was so wild and tragically sad. The play is set in Victorian Edinburgh, Tinkerbell is a ball of fire, and Peter is completely scots. I'll admit a part of me really wanted them to sing "I don't wanna go up" but I could look past that. This performance was spectacular. One of my London favorites.
This play served as the perfect preamble to our Edinburgh trip this week, and fit into my week of cultural betterment including: Eurydice at the Young Vic, the London Philharmonic at Royal Festival Hall, and Disney's The Lion King.