The Simple Things

PANTO TIME

IN THIS HIGHBROW RETROSPECT­IVE OF PANTOMIME, WE PROMISED TO STEER CLEAR OF SILLINESS, DODGY PUNS AND BAD JOKES… OH NO WE DIDN’T!

- Words: IONA BOWER

Boys and girls, in the spirit of Christmas, season of joy, mirth and boxes of Maltesers enjoyed on tippy-uppy velvet seats, please welcome The Simple Things Fairy (and she really is rather simple) to take you on a whirlwind tour of pantomime from its earliest inception to its happily ever after (sound of magic wand, stage left)…

The word pantomime means ‘all kinds of mime’ and panto originates from all kinds of roots. But it’s in 16th-century Italy, with the

Commedia dell’arte that our story begins. The commedia featured well worn parts, like panto: Columbine the girl, Pierrot the clown, and Harlequin the servant, famously played by clown Joseph Grimaldi in the late 17th century. And many aspects of the commedia can be seen in panto still.

Jim Davis, professor of Theatre Studies at Warwick University, explains: “In commedia, gags were called lazzi and were inserted into the performanc­es just as gags are inserted into pantomime today. Commedia was improvised – panto today is still often ad-libbed, so the commedia lives on.”

By the 17th century, the commedias were packing bums onto seats in England, where they morphed into the Harlequina­des. Over time, other tales were performed alongside. They’d begin with an opener – a well known story – and, at some point, the characters would ‘un-mask’ to reveal they were in fact the Harlequina­de.

VICTORIAN FANCIES

These ‘openers’ became the main part of the act and by Victorian times the Harlequina­de fell by the wayside. It was the Victorians who made the pantomime we love now. Please give three cheers, boys and girls, for Cathy Haill, curator of popular entertainm­ent at the V& A, London: “Panto as we know it is a late 19th century emanation,” she says. “It’s been kept alive through change and that is its joy and its glory.”

The Victorians took their panto stories from fairytale, so we see Cinderella and Jack and the

Beanstalk. The Arabian Nights also provided a »

“Panto as we know it has been kept alive through change and that is its joy and its glory”

“True panto stars are skilled in voice, physical comedy, choreograp­hy and comic timing”

rich source from Aladdin to the Forty Thieves (and that’s just the box office – have you seen the prices of panto recently?).

The Victorians’ fascinatio­n with fairies gave us ‘good fairies’ and magical ‘transforma­tions’, during which a pumpkin, for example, would metamorpho­se into a coach in magical style with incredible scenery changes and spectacle. “These transforma­tion scenes had hundreds of people on stage. Some were dummies, held by two people either side, to swell the numbers,” says Cathy, painting a picture that would make the average modern production of

Les Mis look like an infant school nativity. And as well as being lavish, they were long. And when we say long… “Some went on for five hours,” Cathy says. “There’s an anecdote about a man coming out of one panto and asking, ‘ What’s the time?’ and another quipping, ‘ What’s the year?’”

Simultaneo­usly, music hall was changing the tone, bringing in ribald humour and topical jokes. The railway lines were the butt of most Victorian panto gags. Plus ça

change… We expect many a passenger of Southern and Great Northern will be cracking a smile (through the tears) at the same jokes this Christmas.

And of course, “You begin to get the character of the dame more fixed, as well as the principal boy ( played by a girl),” says Cathy. In fact, the popularity of panto in this era may be attributed to the opportunit­y it afforded the everyday Victorian chap for an eyeful of female ankle in tights. Pass the smelling salts.

AIN’T NOTHING LIKE A DAME

Dames later started to arrive from music hall, with variety performers and, by the 1940s, household names like Arthur Askey (of “I thang yaw” fame) played the part. There were always big shoes ( literally) to fill. For a while, in the 1970s and 80s, you may, in many provincial theatres, have seen a Z-list celebrity donning a frock. At one point, it was a running joke that if a once-famous actor on their uppers was cast as dame, he would ask the audience: “Where’s my career?” to the

raucous reply: “It’s behind you!”

But the noughties saw a revival, with Ian McKellen stepping out as Widow Twankey at the Old Vic, to almost universal joy. A reviewer opined: “He put me in mind of an over-excited Hilda Ogden on a trip to the Blackpool illuminati­ons, his homely Lancashire voice delivering saucy one-liners with lubricious relish.” What could be lovelier? People who ‘get’ panto understand you can’t just wander off the set of Hollyoaks into a dame costume and expect rapturous applause (though many have tried). True panto stars are specialist artists with tremendous skills in voice, physical comedy, choreograp­hy and comic timing, not to mention a magical rapport with the audience.

Because most of all, panto is about our relationsh­ip with it. We all remember our first panto: “Mother Goose at the Bristol Hippodrome in the 1950s,” says Jim Davis. And we all have a favourite… “Cinderella. I don’t care what Keira Knightley* says,” insists Cathy Haill. “What most pantos once had, and this still has, is the transforma­tion scene. That moment of magical surprise, right before your eyes.”

So whither next for pantomime? “I’ve seen some pantos where the audience wear 3D glasses!” says Cathy. Certainly, pantomime’s topicality manages to keep it fresh. “It owes its existence to its ability to re-invent itself,” agrees Jim. Perhaps most of all it’s that magical mixture of old and new that does it for us. You know what you’re getting with panto, and you always know it will be enormously jolly fun.

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 ??  ?? The slipper fits, much 1 to the annoyance of ugly sisters Euthanasia and Asphyxia, at the Queen’s Theatre in Hornchurch.2 One of the first dames, Dan Leno, as ‘Sister Ann’ in Bluebeard, 1901.3 Look the udder way: you’ve got to love a pantomime cow
The slipper fits, much 1 to the annoyance of ugly sisters Euthanasia and Asphyxia, at the Queen’s Theatre in Hornchurch.2 One of the first dames, Dan Leno, as ‘Sister Ann’ in Bluebeard, 1901.3 Look the udder way: you’ve got to love a pantomime cow
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 ??  ?? 21 The Necromance­r or Harlequin Dr Faustus gets a few laughs at Lincoln’s Inn Fields Theatre in 1723.2 And for the big finale... an amateur production of Jack & the Beanstalk at Aberystwyt­h Arts Centre
21 The Necromance­r or Harlequin Dr Faustus gets a few laughs at Lincoln’s Inn Fields Theatre in 1723.2 And for the big finale... an amateur production of Jack & the Beanstalk at Aberystwyt­h Arts Centre
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 ??  ?? 63 Ian McKellen steals the stage as Widow Twankey. 4 Dame Arthur Askey in her splendid carriage.Celebrity panto stalwart 5 Paul O’Grady as Lily Savage as Widow Twankey. 6 A statuesque Roger Lloyd-Pack, aka Trigger, as the cook in Dick Whittingto­n
63 Ian McKellen steals the stage as Widow Twankey. 4 Dame Arthur Askey in her splendid carriage.Celebrity panto stalwart 5 Paul O’Grady as Lily Savage as Widow Twankey. 6 A statuesque Roger Lloyd-Pack, aka Trigger, as the cook in Dick Whittingto­n
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