I’m about to start a new adventure. Well, I’ve already started; but I’m making it official. I have succeeded in my infiltration of the Fremont Players. (Okay, it wasn’t very difficult. They’re quite a welcoming and inclusive group that I can already tell I’ll be proud to know.) If you happen to be a British person reading this, you can probably skip down a bit. For my American friends, a little preface is in order.
The Fremont Players do panto. A.K.A. British pantomime. It’s not the ‘mime’ you’re thinking of. There’s nothing quiet about it, in fact. Imagine, if you will, the most ridiculous, madcap nonsensical bit of fun wrapped up in a musical that you can. Now throw in stock characters, stock subjects, and stock dialogue, along with some slapstick comedy and inventive topical humour to keep things fresh. That might just get you close enough to what’s in store.
Happily, I wasn’t coming into this unawares, as I discovered the existence of panto in college and even did a bunch of research for a term paper on the matter. Which is why I can be the lazy writer and just throw this quote at you from a book called Pantomime: A Story in Pictures.
It takes its name from classical times and changes the meaning, its characters from Italian comedy and changes their names, its stories from continental fairy tales and mixes historical figures, then adds every conceivable trick and resource of the theatre, opera, ballet, music hall, and musical comedy.
And this one from The Story of Pantomime.
There must be songs, there must be a ballet; there should be some sufficient reproduction of a fairy-tale to be recognisable by the children; there should be scope for the impossible, the absurd and the grotesque and there should be a full stage and plenty of spectacle. […] Above all, the drollery should be droll and the fun should be funny.
Panto is always done with a familiar story. Cinderella, Aladdin, Dick Whittington are all regulars on the panto stage. And the stock characters often mix it up with cross-dressing. Well, the “principal boy” is often played by a girl. But there is also “the Dame” and she is always played by a man. And preferably by one who completely fails at passing for female. And she’s usually a bit… *ahem* …libidinous.
The good guys are good and the bad guys are bad. The romantic couples fall in love and have a happy ending. Oh, and there’s usually a person or two in an animal costume – even if for no apparent reason at all. (That two person horse suit that isn’t fooling anyone? Yeah. That’s panto.)
But what’s better than stock characters and familiar stories? Stock dialogue! Well, stock dialogue in the sense that panto loves audience participation. So, of course, we have to include the bits the audience knows. If a panto player says “something isn’t” the audience is free to shout back “Oh, yes it is!” The player responds “Oh, no it isn’t!” “Oh yes it is!” And so on until the player drops it and moves on. There’s also the obligatory ghost scene. Also often for no apparent reason. The player may ask the audience where the ghost is. To which the audience can reply (because it will be so) “IT’S BEHIND YOU!”
Yes, indeed, we are talking about a form of theatre that is perhaps closest to what it was in the days of Commedia del’Arte, and we are talking about a form of theatre that will grab at every cheap joke and – very importantly – bad pun that it can find. All for the sake of showing the audience a good time.
Which ought to be enough of a summation to bring you up to speed.
And so, back to my new adventure. The Freemont Players develop their own story line and script, and we’ve been developing it by doing improv with the various characters, switching them off and just having at it. But now we’ve been cast and our roles have been solidified.
So without further ado:
This year’s panto will be Peter Pan! And I will be playing Tinkerbell!
Now, I know you’re excited to see me do something like this. But I’m afraid you’ll just have to get comfortable sitting on those pins and needles. Because unless you venture out to Oregon Country Fair in July, you won’t get to see it until Christmas. That’s right, didn’t I tell you? This is a British Boxing Day tradition, not a year round affair. Still, I’ll try not to leave you in the dark.
