Gardens and Ghosts and Peter Grimm
by Kathleen Huber
David Belasco, in his introduction to The Return of Peter Grimm, gives credit for the original idea to his friend Cecil B. DeMille. It concerned a rumor that the psychologist William James had made a compact with a scientist friend, promising that whichever one of them died first would try to come back and make contact from the spirit world.
This idea certainly appears in Peter Grimm, but once Peter actually “returns,” his fierce determination to make himself heard has very little to do with his compact with Dr. MacPherson, and everything to do with seeking to right some seriously pig-headed mistakes he made just before his death – mistakes which could spell the end of his beloved centuries-old family business, and destroy the happiness of the person he cares most about in the world.
Ghosts are a tricky species to bring onto a stage. The paterfamilias of all stage ghosts, Prince Hamlet’s deceased Dad, is always regarded as a character fraught with peril – Should he be frightening? Heartbreaking? Solid? Ethereal? Attempts to go too far with stylization or special effects can kill the scene (which triggers all the ensuing action). Sometimes simpler is better – The most important thing being to capture is a meeting between a father and a son who misses him terribly.
Belasco, as he began to work with the idea of a ghost as the central character, was determined to avoid anything clichéd or (god forbid) absurd about Peter Grimm’s presence. He resolved that Peter should be seen in great detail in his “earthly life,” and wanted “to create around the living Peter an atmosphere of memories,” a world already rooted in the past, in tradition and a specific culture, and to make him “one who had loved life and lived in the midst of growing things.” He set the play among the Dutch nurseries and botanical gardens of upstate New York, which began with the first settlements in 1700. Thus Grimm’s gardens have been in his family for centuries, founded by Dutch immigrants who had brought with them their vast knowledge of horticulture, especially the nurturing of flowers. Belasco also loved ghost legends like The Flying Dutchman and our own Rip Van Winkle (who has his own fateful meeting with the ghost of Henrik Hudson), so the New York Dutch setting served all purposes.
Conveniently, the modern Spiritualist Movement was also born in upstate New York in 1848, with the “spirit rappings” of the famous (or infamous) Fox Sisters. This informally-structured religion, which flourished between 1848 and the 1920s, centers on two core beliefs – that the afterlife is not static, but one in which spirits evolve; and that contact with souls of the dead is possible through human mediums or “sensitives.” The movement was deeply individualistic, and many of its adherents were active in the causes of anti-slavery and women’s suffrage. Many famous names of the period were associated with spiritualism, including Sir William Crookes (inventor of the cathode ray tube), the astronomer Camille Flammarion, Marie Curie, James Fennimore Cooper, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and of course William James (brother of Henry, author of the great American ghost story, The Turn of the Screw) whose promise to attempt a “return from the grave” (as related by Cecil B. DeMille) seems to have inspired Belasco to write Peter Grimm.
There continues to be some controversy (encouraged by DeMille’s famous daughter Agnes), as to how much of Peter Grimm should be credited to Belasco and how much to her father. Cecil B. himself, however, never claimed any further credit for the play, and remained on the friendliest of terms with Belasco throughout his life. Only their ghosts know the full story.
Belasco originally included a séance scene in Peter Grimm, but decided that it lacked subtlety, and preferred Peter to “return” in a much simpler manner. He also insisted that Peter’s ghost may be taken either as an actual spirit, or as a figure present only in the subconscious memories, longings and guilts of the various characters. Discarding the professional medium, Belasco brought into the story the small boy, Willem, whose origins are crucial to the plotline, and who is the “sensitive” being with whom the spectral Peter can communicate. As the recent film The Sixth Sense demonstrates, this idea has had considerable staying power of its own.
So welcome to Peter Grimm’s Botanic Gardens, and to the fascinating people who live and work in and around them. “For the few,” wrote Belasco, “Peter’s presence will embody the theory of the survival of persistent personal energy.” As he very well knew, this lovely play would – at least for a couple of hours – make that appealing idea seem tantalizingly possible to far more than just a few.
The Magic of the Ghost of Grimm
by Alex Roe
The heart of theater’s magic is its conjuring a whole universe from nothing. Theater fills an empty space with possibility, with adventure—with life.
One of the most alluring prospects for a playwright, then, is the ghost story, for a ghost is a theatrical gesture. In death is the loss of a universe. But the ghost brings that universe back. When the ghost is on stage, it fills emptiness with a second life. So it is no surprise that David Belasco, the grand impressario, was long haunted with the desire to write a ghost play. And his achievement in The Return of Peter Grimm is a grand accomplishment of theatrical alchemy: to make of death and loss a triumphant homage to life and love.
In Grimm, a loving but stubborn and blinkered man has carefully planned for his family’s future, but failed to take into account what his heirs actually want. When he dies of sudden heart failure, disaster looms for his loved ones, but they—bound by their loyalty to their dear departed—are powerless to change their fate. And so, as we know from the title, he must come back.
The story is loving and sentimental, and in Belasco’s hands, it is told with exceptional stagecraft. The James Cameron of his day, he pulled together topical fascinations, filtered them through sentimental associations, developed his own cutting edge technological inventions, and then carefully, painstakingly crafted plays that would include them all to best effect.
The result is a surprisingly contemporary play with a very old-fashioned charm. To some critics, its author is associated with melodramtic contrivances and maudlin pathos, but to consign his work to these bins is to deny his evident sophistication. A veteran “manager” (that is, producer and director), he knew from experience what worked on stage. Each character is richly drawn: complicated and distinct. The quandaries in which they find themselves—before or after life—are gripping and evocative. The revelations of the plot are surprising and delightful. And the resolution through the medium of a lost man’s return is truly theatrical magic.
Metropolitan first presented The Return of Peter Grimm in 1997. Our new staging in the Season of Starting Over features Metropolitan veterans and newcomers, directed by Artistic Director Alex Roe with original music by Michael Kosch. It is another wonderful opportunity to bring a piece of theatrical history back to life, illuminating an age now past, while the struggles of its characters are as fresh as this morning. By any era’s measure, it is a magically affecting piece of theater.