Saturday, April 15, 2023

The Trouble with Double-Entendres

I had an audience complaint.

According to the complainant, one of the lines in Aladdin (2022) was inappropriate for children.

The scene was Act 1, Abanazar has arrived at the Twankey's favela, and the following exchange takes place in rhyming couplets.



According to the complaint, the implied rhyme of cities with titties was absolutely beyond the pale.  Never mind the fact that the word titties was never spoken, the mere suggestion of the rhyme was enough to heap shame upon my writing and the production.

I didn't agree.

Innuendo and double entendre have been a key convention of the pantomime genre for two centuries.

Reviews of a 1903 production of Little Red Riding note that the lovers "kiss, and engage in banter heavy with double entendre, and commentators appear to be well aware of this flirtation" (Shacker, J; Staging Fairyland: Folklore, Children's Entertainment, and Nineteenth-Century Pantomime)

Even as far back as 1781, reviews of Sheridan's Robinson Crusoe describe the scene with the friar smuggling a girl in a bale of hay into the monastery under the label "provisions'. (McVeagh, J., 1990. Journal of Popular Culture, 24(2), pp. 136-137. )



Print: A Just View of the British Stage; Hogarth, W. (1724)
 depicting the managers of Drury Lane 

Audience expect and delight in pantomime innuendo.  When I wrote my little Abanazar stanza, the idea that someone might take offence was so far from my mind, I was taken aback when I received the "disappointed' email.

What must seem like concern for the moral wellbeing of children seemed like prudishness to me.  Of course, these judgements are extremely subjective - one man's cheeky quip is another man's smut - but it does give one pause to consider: exactly where is the line? And how close to it may we sail?


Bad Practice

Of all the sins of bad pantomimes, perhaps none has the potential to go as wrong as hamfisted execution of double-entendre.  At the very least, clumsy attempts at risqué humour make for dull and hackneyed moments, slowing the pace of the show and underwhelming the audience; at their worst, they have the power to embarrass, alienate and offend.

Last week I went to the Lowry to see the touring production of Mother Goose starring Ian McKellen and John Bishop (who are both excellent).  For those who haven't managed to see it, the ensemble play a variety of animals that lived on Mother Goose's farm.  One of these is a bat, who is referred to in two lines as being on the sexual offenders register for exposing himself.  One can't help but wonder what we are supposed to be laughing at.  Sexual predators?  It doesn't strike me as a natural go-to for family friendly funnies.


John Bishop and Sir Ian McKellen in Mother Goose


In the same show we were presented with a lazzi of "I'm not a pheasant plucker", where the actor trying to recite the tongue twister kept almost accidentally saying "I'm not a pleasant fucker", but getting cut off just before he 'does a swear'.  Not only was the execution lacking (the tedious repetition of the joke belying any pretence of the moment being spontaneous or perilous), but the choice of material begs the question: "what is the joke here?"  That someone nearly says fucker in front of children?  Is that funny?  It certainly didn't tickle me... if anything, it just made me feel uncomfortable.

A much more successful moment was when Mr Goose (John Bishop) was struggling with something long and hard popping up between his legs - a large Toblerone.  It goes to show, bodies are funny in a way sexual offending and swearing in front of children are not.

As disappointing as these misfires were, they were small fry compared to some much more troubling performances I have endured.  I was most befuddled by some of the artistic decisions taken in a recent production of Cinderella (2022, Theatre Royal St Helens), in which Buttons was portrayed as womanising letch who ground his groin up against one female member of the cast after another.  

Despite never having been a woman myself, this character choice left me feeling inordinately uncomfortable.  I can only imagine how much more I should have felt if I had lived experience dealing with that kind of unwanted sexual aggression (as so many women do).  The most egregious moment came during the ballroom scene when Buttons traversed the stage apparently shagging a blow-up doll (the kind one might see on a stag night), hilarity apparently ensuing from the fact that his vigorous bonking kept making the wig fall off.

My party were aghast at this crude spectacle unfolding in front of an audience of young kids.  In fairness to the production team, this escapade seemed to delight a large portion of the audience who hooted, applauded and cheered in delight.  Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but I wouldn't have been happy if I had come with young children.

It caused me to recall the two gay dads I once sat behind at the M&S arena during a performance of Sleeping Beauty (Apr 2021).   During an ad-libbed bit of audience participation, the comic  jokingly accused some men near the front of looking like 'poofs' - a very jarring word to hear, particularly from such a laddy performer, uttered in an apparently jovial manner.  I remember the dads in front of me wrapping their arms around their daughter, seeming to hold onto her for dear life.  Quite what possessed him to use that word, I don't know.  Presumably it is part of the performers go to vocabulary.  One can only hope that the SM excoriated him in the show report... but I'm not sure I hold out all that much hope.

Jokes should be fun for everybody, not just the performer, nor those they attempt to implicate as being on their side.


Doing Something Better

I for one have had my fill of bad innuendo.  There is absolutely no reason why humour cannot simultaneously be inclusive, well-crafted and risqué.  

Remember, good double entendre is RUDE (it's a mnemonic - geddit!).  It stands for - 


1. RESPECTFUL.  

Audiences are made up of individuals who likely represent a broad range of sensitivities and lived experience.  You can be funny without being provocative. Good humour makes fun with people, not of people.

One of my favourite reviews we have received was for Robin Hood at the LBT, Huddersfield (2021) "Merry, risqué and very funny".  Yorkshire Live

The same review goes on to describe one moment that really tickled the reviewer:

"At one point, audience favourite Will Scarlet cracked a 'willy joke' that was so silly he appeared to forget his lines for a moment, but we hardly noticed through the laughter." 

For the interested reader, here is the joke in all it's glory:


I love this joke.  The surface meaning is crisp and innocent.  The phrasing is streamlined and the rhythm bounces along.  Also, willies are hilarious and a little bit rude - perfect fodder for panto humour.   I also like the fact that the joke is crafted around a body part, rather than a verb - jokes about "Master Bakers" or "shooting over the Ring Master's back" (the infamous offering from Julian Carey at the Palladium) seem inexorably more crass as they invite the audience to picture the act in question.

Some people like having the Willies put up them
Robin Hood at the LBT, Huddersfield ©️The Big Tiny, 2022


2.   UNEXPECTED.

A good double-entendre should catch the audience off guard.  The audience should laugh because they are surprised.

Lazy direction/performance may seek to draw humour out of a rude word absent of clever and unexpected wordplay.  Such unimaginative appeals to the puerile may elicit a titter or two - some proportion of an audience will always laugh when cued - but better writing doesn't require propping up.

Consider this joke from our Aladdin:

No rude words necessary.  The scansion of the line and the bait-and-switch punchline are sufficient to catch the audience off guard.  Delivered expertly by Dom McChesney, this joke never failed to get a great reaction.


3.   DEADPAN (then corpse if it warrants it).  

The delight of the adults is in the secret communion with the actor, in plain sight of the children.  Don't give the game away with crude gestures or mugging to the audience.

Remember, the joy of the double-entendre is the communion of the adult audience with the actor - in plain sight of the children.  It is the success of this secret-shared that propels a double-entendre beyond more basic wordplay.

4.    EASY.

 The best moments feel fleeting, ephemeral and organic. So, you've created a funny moment, don't labour it.  A good joke doesn't need to be pointed out with neon arrows.  Extraneous ad-libs and 'funny' asides undermine the strength of the moment and water down the comedy.  Many a good joke is butchered by a codicil of "Eh, up" or "You know what I mean" - the verbal equivalent of holding up a 'laugh now' sign - which if anything, may make the performer seem amateurish.


He who has ears, let him hear, and let's all be RUDE together!

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