CAMBRIDGE LETTER
Escape into fantasy
By Bill Kirkman
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It is pleasant and refreshing to make a short journey away from reality.
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Photo: AFP
Harmless and therapeutic: The magical world of a pantomine.
THIS time last year, as I prepared my Cambridge Letter, news broke of the tsunami. That of course was followed during the year by other natural and man-made disasters. We live in a difficult world, and 2005 was a particularly difficult year. Modern means of communication ensure that we are all aware of the disasters as they happen. Even if we wished to insulate ourselves from them — and we should most certainly not try to do that — we would not be able to.
As responsible citizens we should not try to practise that kind of escapism, but it is pleasant and refreshing to be able, quite responsibly, to make a short journey away from reality. I had the pleasure of doing that last week, experiencing something steeped in tradition, when we took three grandchildren to the local pantomime.
The Cambridge Encyclopaedia defines pantomime as "a theatrical term used to describe the silent narration and dramatisation of a story through gesture and movement, often by a single performer. Also, a Christmas play, loosely connected to a fairy-tale or nursery-rhyme, which was developed in Victorian and Edwardian Britain."
Curious conventions
That, I am sure, is accurate — as far as it goes. It goes nowhere near far enough to describe the reality of the pantomimes which are put on all over the country during the Christmas season, and which attract each year yet another generation of children (and their parents and grandparents), who are quickly imbued with the curious conventions of this art form.
The first of these conventions is that the principal female character — the pantomime dame — is played by a man, often a well-known comedian. He is traditionally dressed in exaggerated costume, with the greatest exaggeration reserved for the final wedding scene. (At our Cambridge pantomime the wedding dress was in the form of a tiered wedding cake.)
Similarly, the hero — the principal boy — has to be played by an attractive young woman. There is no attempt to make the disguises convincing. Indeed, much of the charm lies in the fact that all the audience know that the dame is a man and the principal boy a woman.
Another convention is that there is an animal played by a human. In our pantomime, it was Dick Whittington's cat.
Crucial elements
Audience participation is a crucial element of modern pantomime, and children quickly grasp that concept. It is of course participation at a pretty unsophisticated level. The actor's "Oh yes I am" provokes a roar from the audience: "Oh no you're not". "I am" "You're not" — and so on with an ever louder cacophony of childish (and grand-paternal) voices.
It is also traditional to invite some children from the audience on to the stage, sometimes to help lead two halves of the audience in the competitive singing of a simple song. "Our side sang better than yours", "Oh no they didn't", "Oh yes they did"... .
Sometimes an adult is invited up, to undertake some task. At the performance we attended it was a woman, who was not obviously nervous, or fazed by her moment of dramatic fame.
The "Dame" led her through her act — and took the opportunity to make one of the traditional pantomime jokes. Having established in which part of Cambridge she lived, he remarked: "Oh yes, my brother works there. In fact, he's working this afternoon: he's a burglar."
Another tradition is a kitchen scene — at our pantomime, set in a ship's galley, which heaved up and down in a minor triumph of stage technology.
The point is to get one character (the Dame) to smother the other with soup, spaghetti and mock cream. It quickly induces happy hysteria in the audience.
Family atmosphere
One way of emphasising the family atmosphere is to welcome, from the stage, people who have come in groups — a family celebrating a child's birthday, for example.
At our performance one such group was a family "with a boy who is visiting from Norway" — at which the "Dame" commented: "Norway. Well, he'll think we're completely mad".
Pantomimes are indeed a pretty zany experience, and essentially English. Drama critics would find it hard to analyse their plots. You would certainly not go to a pantomime for an intellectual treat.
The fact remains that children love them, and so do the accompanying adults. Having grandchildren provides a wonderful excuse to "go to the panto".
After a couple of hours, of course, we return to the real world, but this particular excursion into escapism is surely harmless and indeed therapeutic.
The writer is an Emeritus Fellow of Wolfson College Cambridge, UK. E-mail him at: bill.kirkman@gmail.com
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