Of all the traditions of the Christmas season, the most eccentric has to be the quintessential British pantomime.
These annual spectacles of absurdity take place all over the country in top-notch theatres and tiny village halls, appeal to all ages and offer an opportunity for knock-about humour, rowdy audience participation and everything becoming topsy-turvy: the pantomime “Dame” is always a man and the “Principal Boy” always a girl. The pantomime horse is really two people – one the head and one the rear of the unlikely looking equine.
The performers trip over obstacles that aren’t there, have custard pies thrown in their faces and pretend they can’t see the villain creeping up behind them, so the audience is forced to alert them by shouting
“He’s behind you!!”
at regular intervals. The British reserve that prevails the rest of the year round is shelved for an evening, as young and old alike, boo the villain, cheer the hero and argue with anyone in the cast that gives them the opportunity to do so. For example the Wicked Stepmother in Cinderella would shout to the audience
“One of my beautiful daughters is going marry the handsome prince”
“Oh no she isn’t!”
“Oh yes she is!”
“Oh no she isn’t!”
The villain, Queen Rat in menacing mode
I was interested to know just where all this farcical behaviour originates from and discovered that the history of pantomime is a long and fascinating one. It is likely that what we see today was influenced by Elizabethan and Stuart masques - a form of amateur dramatics performed in the grand houses of the day and at court where courtiers and even royalty dressed up in disguise for dancing and acting.
It may be that the timing of the British pantomime taking place at Christmas and the cross-dressing of the lead characters evolved from the Tudor “Feast of Fools”, an unruly event involving much drinking, revelry and role reversal.
As for the word Pantomime, it literally translates as “all kinds” of “mime” and comes from the late 16th century French pantomimeor, Latin pantomimus, derived from the Greek pantomimos ‘imitator of all’ meaning a performer who acted all the roles of the story.
When I was researching this piece, I came across an excellent article written by Professor Jane Moody, from York University where she explains the main influences on pantomime and its arrival in Britain from Italy https://www.york.ac.uk/news-and-events/features/pantomime/.
“Our story” she says “begins with the commedia dell'arte tradition. The phrase means ‘comedy of the artists’ and these improvised performances took place outside in Italian streets and marketplaces. Commedia was a versatile, popular and influential art form.
Distinctive masks enabled audiences to recognise characters immediately; they also allowed actors to make topical and risqué jokes without fear of being recognised.
Travelling from place to place to earn their living, these actors began to take commedia across Europe. We know, for example, that these performers visited England on several occasions; British and European playwrights from Shakespeare and Lope de Vega to Moliere would all draw on commedia characters and traditions.”
Panto in Britain is traditionally based on classic children’s stories and fairy tales such as Aladdin, Snow White, Puss in Boots and Mother Goose, with a format containing a perfect story arc where, eventually, good triumphs over evil, hope over adversity and everyone lives happily ever after (the denouement is usually a wedding).
The dame in splendid costume at the wedding of the young lovers
Even though modern panto sometimes introduces new characters, there is always a stylised and recognisable set of persona in the cast. Key characters were invented early on and a version of them appears in every panto. Take Cinderella for example: the villain is The Wicked Stepmother, the young lovers, Cinderella and Prince Charming, the servants, Buttons and the prince’s sidekick Dandini, and the dame/s: The Two Ugly Sisters.
Paul Merton and Suki Webster
The only thing that‘s more fun than going to see a panto is actually appearing in one. When my children were small and we lived in a tiny village in Hampshire, we put on a panto in our village hall two years running. The first was Jack and the Beanstalk and we followed this up with Cinderella. The excellent scripts for both were written by one of our friends and neighbours, the late Phil Dickinson, helped in his endeavours by our local shopkeeper, Paul Martin. Paul’s wife Denise directed.
It was a great way of bringing everyone, locals and incomers alike, together in a common effort. Almost everyone played a part: those who didn’t want to act, organised costumes, make-up and scenery. A local band performed the music.
I played Jack in Jack and the Beanstalk and then the wicked stepmother in Cinderella. It was all great fun, but especially Cinderella: I wore a crazy wig, lots of make-up (as do most of the panto characters) and borrowed a selection of outfits from my sister-in-law who has always had a penchant for glitzy clothes.
I had said I didn’t want to sing but everyone ignored me, and I had to perform a version of “These Boots Are Made for Walking”, by Nancy Sinatra. I enjoyed it more than I thought I might, and the musical director said I had perfect pitch, but I think he was just being kind!
There was lots of silly humour and jokes about current affairs written into the script and we adapted it and sometimes ad-libbed as we went along. The two ugly sisters (men, of course) were hilarious and everyone entered into the spirit of the event with real gusto. I kid you not, we were really good, if the reaction of the audience was anything to go by. I have videos of both pantos and it’s great fun to view them again all these years later.
This week, a group of us: my husband and I, my best friends, their daughters and mine, several boyfriends and my mother-in-law all went to see Dick Whittington at our local theatre which is Grade II listed and very beautiful. There is an orchestra pit, stalls, a royal circle and several curved-fronted boxes overlooking the stage. The plasterwork on these and on the ceiling depicting scenes from Hamlet, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, King Lear and Romeo and Juliet is all rather impressive.
There has been a theatre on the site since 1718 but the current building opened as The Theatre Royal and Opera House in 1899. Designed by renowned theatre architect Frank Matcham, it remains the best-preserved example of his work in London. These days it is simply called Richmond Theatre.
The splendour of Richmond Theatre
It was, as always, great fun, especially as there were 12 of us in the middle of two rows of the stalls, six behind the other six. Like all the audience, we entered into the spirit, laughing, shouting and singing when required. The dame was played by comedian Paul Merton and, as is the tradition, he/she appeared in a wide selection of colourful and outrageous costumes. His wife, comedienne, Suki Webster also starred, rousting the audience up and encouraging us to make as much noise as possible.
Paul Merton dressed as a robin (no idea why) revealing more than we had bargained for
There were, however, several disappointments that I cannot quite recover from: no pantomime horse, cow or any other creature large enough to contain two hapless performers. The only animals were a man dressed as a cat and several of the cast dressed as rats. They were all effective, but were rather tasteful and had none of the ridiculous, comedic factor of a horse with two people inside.
There was no slap-stick of the sort that’s usually accompanied with really silly noises made by a swannee whistle or one of the orchestral instruments and results in at least one person getting soaked, covered in foam or having a pie smashed in his/her face. And where was the water pistol squirting out into the audience? It’s just traditional to have screams coming from those near the front as they have jets of water fired at them. No-one even threw sweets out for the children (big and small) in the auditorium. Not good enough!
The ensemble and the “principal boy”
Worst of all though, and a fact I was outraged by: the principal boy was a boy!! In my book that’s just completely wrong. The principal boy just has to be a girl. Weird though the tradition may seem: a girl dressed up as a boy, falling in love with another girl and marrying her, that’s the way panto is supposed to be. You can’t just start deviating from tradition willy-nilly – it confuses everybody and changes the rules that have been in place for centuries.
As I said in my piece about Christmas traditions last week: we all just want things to remain the same every year. It’s what we expect and what we want. Next year I shall have to ask more questions before I book our panto tickets to make sure we are going to get exactly what we know and love and what should always happen without any deviation!
I’m thinking of starting a campaign “Don’t Tamper With Our Traditions!” Have you been to the panto this year? I’d love to hear about your experiences and whether it met your expectations. Please feel free to share with me and your fellow subscribers by clicking the button below and I shall respond
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The Exchange Twickenham opposite Twickenham Railway Station is great community entertainment and has a website.
Last time I went to a pantomime my children and I ended up wet from water pistols, pockets full of sweets and hoarse from shouting. A campaign is much needed!