Family friendly. Camp. Men in drag. As an American in Britain, my pantomime knowledge was distinctly limited when I walked into Hackney Empire to watch Aladdin a few weeks ago. I walked out forever changed, feeling more British than I ever had before.
After three years living in London, this festive period felt the right time to experience this most unique of British art forms. So I booked myself in for not one but two pantos – first at Hackney then Broadway Theatre in Catford – to really immerse myself in the world of dames, best boys, fairy tale princes and princesses and, er, someone called Buttons.
So first came the Empire, and there was no doubt which show we were seeing: as I entered the auditorium a vast pink backdrop screamed Aladdin's name in gold. Around me, families excitedly found their seats, a sense of real anticipation rising.
The panto at Hackney Empire is one of London’s most loved, and is now directed by Clive Rowe, who also stars as the Dame (this year he played Widow Twankey). Yet, the night I broke my panto duck he made an unscheduled appearance before curtain up.
With a full face of make-up, and wearing a dressing gown, he announced that the actor playing Aladdin was too sick to go on. As was his understudy. Instead, the production manager would be taking on the part. Oof…
But as is the mantra in British theatre – and this being quite the most British thing in theatre – the show must go on, and somehow it did. In fact the disruption that would have killed most straight shows just added to the glorious chaos that started unfolding around me.
A large cast bounced onto stage and immediately burst into song in front of brightly coloured backdrops of fairy tale scenes. Initially I was nonplussed, what even was this?
I am a West End junkie, regularly attending some of the best examples of theatre, especially musicals, in this or any other country. Sitting in this auditorium in east London, Aladdin was unlike anything I’d seen before. It was just so… loose! So… bizarre! So… relaxed! And to embrace the spirit I realised I too just had to relax and go with it.
As most readers will know, panto stories are drawn from well-known fairy tales such as Cinderella, Aladdin and Jack and the Beanstalk – but the writers beef up some characters, add different ones – normally for comic effect – and of course add a few extra twists and turns, as well as a truckload of jokes. Good jokes, bad jokes, dirty jokes all piled on top of each other.
Before going, I’d had a wobble as I had been reading up panto history and it turns out that early forms were silent. Was I to be subjected to hours of wordless gesturing, a thought that sounded worse than pulling teeth. Fortunately, there are words, lots of them, and have been since the mid-19th century. Funny, witty, cheeky words with relatable themes and undertones of larger issues. Phew.
These disorganised fairy tales are not only full of humour but social satire. Three years in London meant I got all the jokes about the economy and why a south Londoner wouldn’t dare live north of the river. In my second panto, Jack and the Beanstalk at Catford, there were consistent references to the cost-of-living crisis and there was an antagonist called Boris the Cockroach. The audience yelled ‘’lying cockroach’’ every time he introduced himself.
Another difference from the West End, and what makes panto really magical, is audience participation. So many kids get their first theatrical experience through panto, and it’s such a warm, inclusive experience that it can inspire lifelong love of live performance.
It took all of Aladdin’s Act I – and sugar from nearly a pint of Coca-Cola – before I became an active participant. ‘’Boo!’’ I yelled, lifting myself up from my seat. The baddie had proclaimed herself a Tottenham fan. Not on my watch.
Over the course of the show, more yelling from all over the house. “He’s behind you!” “Oh, no he isn’t!” “Oh, yes he is!” “Booo!” “Hiss!” “Wishy you’re so dishy”. And by my second panto, I was all in. A full house of enthusiastic participants roaring responses at the stage livens everything up.
Sat in the stalls at Catford Broadway, I began to see common themes and tropes. A favourite being bringing an audience member up on stage – it’s absolute gold. As seasoned panto-goers know, the Dame is always the one to choose and she, of course, tends to pick the most uncomfortable looking man in the audience (men, you’ve been warned).
While the initial chat is flirty, fun and sprinkled with sexual innuendos, it doesn’t stop there. I was so pleased to see the Dame shamelessly flirt with her victim for the remainder of the show. His discomfort was comedy for all.
In fact, there really is nothing like a Dame – my favourite element of panto. A man dressed as a woman whose outfits could walk the carpet at the Met Gala – yes Queen! Of the Dames I saw, both delivered cheeky one-liners and fussed about their domestic duties with motherly charm (Derek Elroy played Dame Dolores at Catford). They handed out sweets and, at times, both had their undergarments on full display. What virtuosos…
At the end of the pantos, I was delighted as all evil turns to good. Surprisingly, I wasn’t expecting this as traditional fairy nwtales don’t end this way. The worst that happens to the baddie in panto is a pie to the face or they're soaked by a water gun. It’s fitting for a production that’s aimed at festive family fun. The hero, of course, saves the day and the fabulous Dame finds love – and I love that for her.
Panto in its original forms may have stemmed from commedia dell’arte but modern-day performances feel quintessentially British end-of-the-pier fun. And yet, I think American audiences would embrace it – give or take a few of the jokes might need explaining.
Even after seeing two pantos, when an American friend asked what the art form was I wasn’t sure what to tell her. It’s something that needs to be experienced. It’s messy, chaotic and silly but you’ll leave with a smile on your face and a spirited love for British theatre.
