Empire Theatre, Eden Court, until 4 January 2009

Paul Morrow plays Abanazar (Photo - John Paul)

I CANNOT pretend that I was looking forward to a matinee panto show with unbridled enthusiasm, but long before the curtain went up, half a dozen primary schools, a staff outing, assorted parents, grandparents, babes in arms and children of all ages were clapping and singing along enthusiastically to Now That’s What I Call a Christmas Soundtrack. Pantomime rules! In no time its strangely timeless magic had me completely in thrall and I was hankering after sticky sweets and an ice cream in the interval.

Fashions come and go, times change, but pantomime always adapts and survives. If, and it is just about possible to do this, you can watch it with an analytic eye, you can detect archaeological layers of theatre history from Commedia dell Arte through Victorian music hall to variety shows and the pop hits of a decade ago. But why bother? Resistance is useless. (Oh yes, it is….!)

If, as Sybil Thorndike’s husband Lewis Casson once said, pantomime is the national theatre of Scotland, then Scots is the true language of pantomime. There is something about the broad vowels of Scots that make the old routines ten times funnier, and Keith Warwick as Wishee Washee used it very skilfully.

Gone are the days of the principal boy in tights and high heels, so our eponymous hero was the likeable Alastair Bruce, blessed with good looks and a good light tenor voice, nicely matched by the clear soprano of the equally toothsome Princess Jasmine (Louise Bolton). The villain of the piece was the scheming Abanazar, played to perfection by Paul Morrow who managed to evoke spontaneous boos and hisses from the Empire crowd.

Billy Riddoch’s Dame tended to gabble through his lines, which meant fewer laughs than he deserved. A few more shows are probably needed before he can relax and take control, as the Dame should, warming the audience up or calming them down as needed. The Dame is a wonderful chance for an actor to go over the top – the further the better – while directly engaging the audience, which is why folk of the calibre of Sir Ian McKellen cannot wait to put on the wig and comedy tights and have a ball.

The costumes, as always, bid a scornful farewell to chic and good taste and were all the better for it. The songs derived from the recent pop canon, from Abba to Take That, while the dance routines were choreographed by Sally Coppen in the style of Toni Basil with an occasional nod to Arlene Phillips. Her dancers included an enthusiastic tot who acquitted herself extremely well, out-dancing most of her companions, and aged, according to Colin Marr, merely seven. All together now – .”Aaaaaaah”.

Yes, it’s the season to be sentimental as well as jolly, and there’s nothing wrong with that . (Oh no, there isn’t!)

© Jennie Macfie, 2008

Links

• Eden Court Theatre