RESEARCH FINDING: These two ingredients are KEY to making better panto

It seems like forever ago that I started my PhD research exploring the question: "How does contemporary British Pantomime respond to Evolving Ideas of Identity?"  For those of you that have continued reading my blog, I'm sure it seems like even longer!

In truth, it's only been three years (nearly), and the end is very firmly in sight. In that time I have:

• interviewed dozens of panto big wigs, 
• held town hall meetings with my audiences, 
• gathered stakeholder feedback, 
• recorded dozens of hours of audio diaries, 
• innovated the form, and 
• analysed my companies data to death.  
• And read about a bajillion books about pantomime history.  
• And another bajillion about identity politics.  
• And at least two bajillion about academic methodology (don't even...) 
• Oh, and best of all - I've produced 7 pantomimes, which I used as a test bed to put my research and ideas into practice.  

I am knackered.  I look forward to publishing my research next year, telling you all what I've discovered, along with my recommendations for best practice.  BUT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO WAIT THAT LONG... Right here, on this very blog I can reveal for the first time ever  

My Top Two Innovative Contributions to the Form!!!!

* Application of the Hyperlocal Lens *

* The Repositioning of Meaning-Value with a Gifting Paradigm *

"What are you on about?"  

"Why those two things?"

"How did you get to that decision?"

So many questions! I know - it's exciting, isn't it?  Let me explain... from the very beginning. It's a very good place to start. (Apparently - Julie A.)

The Big Bang (T = -6 months)

I got the idea to start my research after a very effervescent conversation about race and Aladdin.  The conversers were a diverse bunch with loads of different opinions, and I found myself defending the "it's traditional" corner.  Before anyone gets any silly ideas: I wasn't in the "slap on some yellow face paint and pigtails" corner, just the: as long as everyone is respectful, it's surely OK to set it in China camp.  

The Emperor of China, Stockport Plaza (2012).
Yellow masking tape over eyes, Wickes (£3.50 per roll)
NB Going by the poster, the upcoming 2025 production features the same costume track! -
hopefully the make-up pad has run out of yellow by now...

I love a good argument!  I'm not even very averse to a bad one, from time to time.  However, in this case I found myself frustrated - not because I was losing. Because I was shut out.  I was white, middle-class, privileged - I had no first hand experience of "feeling yellow," or racial discrimination - and therefore, my view was deemed worthless and therefore disregarded. I'm eager to concede that there is huge and irreplaceable value to be derived from those with lived experience, both in the perspective that it may offer and also in the profundity of subjective truth that it can unlock - however, doing so would not help me.  Even if one could change race, to do so just to win an argument would surely be the worst type of colonialism. 

With all other options off the table, it is to my great chagrin that my antagonistic-ape-brain conjured up for me a secondary, more obscure route by which I might enhance my credibility: "All you need to do" it whispered, "is become the world's expert in that field, and then, come back in 4 years time and retort "AHA! My opinion does matter!"

Stupid, petty, peevish ape-brain... why are you always inventing the most ridiculous strategies just to try and defend your overinflated ego?!

Six months later I was enrolled as a PhD candidate.

Aladdin (T = 12 months)

That Christmas we produced Aladdin at the Met in Bury.   It was the second time we'd staged the show - this time in a much bigger town with vastly different demographics.  Our production practices were informed by what I was learning - we tried different approaches to casting, rewrote the script to reflect different heritages of the actors, even remade a few costumes. However, I didn't lose sight of the main aim: vindication.

The production did end up with a more ethnically diverse cast, but it also had:

• Traditional Peking location
• Glittery Chinese set and cloths
• Chinese policemen
• An Empress in traditional style costume and black wig
• Hanfu inspired costumes
• A traditional Chinese liondancer costume
• Travel to Egypt
• Traditional laundry scene
• Traditional character names
• A gong sound effect
• The Old Bazaar in Cairo
• Sand dance choreography

It also had zero audience complaints, record box office takings, and excellent reviews across the board - including a review in the British Theatre Guide that acknowledged the production "sticks to its traditional setting... while avoiding any uncomfortable racial stereotyping" and "is made by people who clearly love the form."

"There," I thought, "that proves it - it can be done."  I should have felt vindicated, but actually, I felt like... I was answering the wrong question.

The tropes of Aladdin were solidified over 100 years ago, in Victorian Britain - a Britain that was very, very different to the country we live in today.  Not just demographically, but culturally, and also internationally.  The reasons why the Victorians included all these conventions in the panto have either dissipated or withered away.

"OK," I thought.  "So, you can defend Victorian Aladdin. But so what?  Why should we bother?"

If the Victorians used pantomime to build their identity, why shouldn't we?  If pantomime could help build an empire, what else could it do?  It seemed to me, these were much better questions!

★★★★★ 

"Pure family Christmas entertainment and everything you want for a fun filled two and a half hours (including interval), take the family and enjoy"

ABOUT MANCHESTER

 

Rumpelstiltskin (T = 12-24 months)

My first attempt to explore these questions was Rumpelstiltskin.  

No. Days to rehearse the play: 8
No. Days for Will to make the cartouche hang straight: 1.5

It was a familiar title with a mostly-forgotten story, which was great for me.  I bastardised the script and turned it into a play about otherisation and in-/out-grouping dynamics.  Even though the production felt super traditional, it challenged fundamental tenets of the form including what it means to be a villain and the Boalian positioning of the audience as spect-actors.  I loved turning everything upside down, encouraging the children to sell their souls to Rumpelstiltskin in act 1 and hearing the whole audience chanting spells for his revival by the end.  Dramaturgically it had such depth, we had some audience members weeping, yet we managed to deliver it with a lightness of touch that made it relatable for all ages.  It was in the words of the Manchester Evening News a "family crowdpleaser that punches well above its weight."

Nancy Penvose (left) was so dedicated to the role of Rumpelstiltskin
she purposefully lost 4" of height during rehearsal to make him appear more vulnerable

It was a great first foray into how panto could address issues of identity.  But it did so passively.  It was time to try a more active approach.

The Victorians didn't use panto to talk about identity, the used it to create identity.  "I'm going to have a go at that," I thought.  Then spent a few months wondering what identity I wanted to create.

A great fact I'd picked up somewhere from some book that I'm currently too lazy to look back up is: by 1900, 60% of all London pantomimes were staged at least partially in another country. Aladdin was incredibly popular, but even titles like Cinderella had been spruced up (with one production being set in Ethiopia) and seemingly every time we had a war (which was a lot of times, btw) some production of Jack and the Beanstalk would personify our opponent as the Giant.  That's all well and good if you're trying to inculcate an imperial identity within an ethically homogenous, not internationally travelling audience.  But I don't have one of those - so I'd have to do some more thinking.

The Hyperlocal Lens

During my research, I've been keeping a reading log.  I'm now up to about 300 books, which is about right for a PhD bibliography.  But unlike other PhD bibliographies, mine reads like marched through a library with a blunderbuss full library cards, randomly shooting at every disciplinary section and reading the first five books on any shelf I hit.  

Partly this is because when I started I was so ill-informed that I had to get up to base level on pretty much everything all at once.  I've read books on Victorian pantomime, the British Empire, Crip Theory, Feminist theory, Orientalism, Identity Theory, Identity Politics, Psychology, Post-Colonialism... you get the idea.

It was about this time, as I was getting immersed in Media Studies, that I came across the idea of hyperlocality: a way of thinking about geographically bounded shared cultural experience.  Or in other words, things made for people who live near each other.  It was a really interesting lens. Over the last 100 years, demographic shift had changed the make up of panto audiences so much that the rationale underpinning the conventions of the genre was increasingly unsound. Unlike Victorian audiences, modern pantogoers are not a sea of white, Christian, or even British faces - so what are they?  Well, unless you're producing the Palladium panto... they are all local.

This is a local pantomime for local people!

Ironically, Victorian panto producers were already onto this idea, long before Media Studies even existed.  The go-to academic on the topic of regional pantomime production 1860-1900 is Jill Sullivan who first showed in her PhD thesis (2005) "the available empirical evidence has served to foreground the pantomime text as an expression of local concerns and political interests that were particular to each town and displayed an acute awareness of issues of regional identity and status."  

Tip-off: Sullivan's book on the topic:  "The Politics of the Pantomime: Regional Identity in the Theatre 1860–1900" is a fantastic read for anyone interested in the topic (as it was particularly for me, as it has a plethora of specific examples of pantomimes staged in Manchester.)

These hyperlocal conventions seem to get slowly shed by commercial producers during the twentieth century, as mass media shrinks first the country and then the world.  Popular comedy routines become embedded, divorced from their original meaning and then stale.  The pursuit of economies of scale lead to the consolidation of regional contracts into large portfolios of a small number of national players.  The final death knell for hyper localism may well have been heard with the casting of international celebrities, as documented by the UKPA's Simon Sladen.

In the process, the form lost two things of immense value: urgent relevance and connection to their audiences.  I want them back.  And I think we can get them.

A note of caution: Victorian Pantomime production and contemporary practice face vastly different contemporary mores and demographies.  Victorian pantomimes reinforced local identity as a foil against London-centred homogenisation of extent regional cultures. Modern pantomime must respond to modern audiences who increasingly originate from diverse locations and may include transitory and immigrant populations with few or no long standing ties to the local area and/or theatre tradition.  When we use pantomime to reinforce local identity, we do so not to defend, but to create.  For the modern producer, hyperlocality is an action, not a reaction - and as such, demands a greater level of sophistication, forethought and precision in its application.

Mother Goose (T = 24 months)

The next iteration of my practice was a hyperlocal production of Mother Goose which we made from scratch specifically for Saddleworth.  I'm not the first person to reimagine this outdated story in the present moment - in our production, Mother Goose didn't wish for beauty or youth, but 100000 TikTok followers instead.  

Despite his best efforts, hyperlocal puppy Toby was largely ineffective at installing the set

Not only did we make it much more relevant for right now, at the same time we made great efforts to make it relevant right here. We made it hyperlocal.

I love Saddleworth, and so does my audience.  So it seemed like the natural place to set the story.  We went round the town taking photos of interesting and recognisable views - views which we then reimagined in our cloth designs.  Saddleworth is a rural community, so I dumped the demon and brought in a Fox... from Fox Entertainment in Media City, Manchester (the valley and the identity of those who live there is distinct from, and contrasted to their giant metropolis next door).  I wrote in dialect, and filmed VT sections around the town with local people and familiar faces, which we then projected as part of the show.  

Imaginary villain Phineas Fox played by real-life fox Tessa Vale 

Outside the auditorium I called town hall meetings and took polls on what the audience thought was important.  We visited local events throughout the year, in costume.  We engaged with local drama groups, schools and charities, running workshops and competitions.

It was in the production of this show that I felt, as a practitioner, the reward I had hoped would have come from our Chinese-Aladdin.  Aladdin had been my show.  Mother Goose was Saddleworth's show.  And the audience knew it!

Mother Goose led me to articulate another vital pillar of my theoretical framework: 

Meaning-Value and the Gifting Paradigm

When I had started, I had viewed meaning as a thing to be owned, as exemplified in thoughts such as: "You don't own the story Aladdin, just because you've got Chinese heritage," or "I can use my production to create my own meaning."

I have now come to understand that greater value of meaning is realised not through the act of claiming ownership over it, but through the act of giving ownership away.

Pantomime is a commercial form.  Producers make shows to sell.  The most successful and canny producers have a very firm understanding of their target audience: demography, price points, access requirements, celebrity draws. Their production processes are well-oiled machines, turning out palatable productions that equate to bums on seats.  One might say that these producers make these shows for their audience. This is a linguistic trick.  Actually, they make their shows for profit.  The pantomime production is a product, owned by the company, and rented out in 2-hour viewing slots to their target demographics. 

If a pantomime production were truly made for an audience, ownership must be exchanged.  Production processes are still acts of creation, but not of a product, but of a gift.   The distinction is hugely important.

A product is something you can buy off the shelf, generic, available to anyone, anywhere.  Commercial producers love making products - products are very profitable. They can be made to a blueprint by on a schedule, on a line, by workers who only do one thing. Products can be made from interchangeable parts so they are easy to replicated, standardised and predicted.  Products are replaceable.  When somebody buys a product, they buy one instance; the company retains the blueprints and the processes to turn out another instance, and another and so on ad infinity.

When you make a gift for someone, you do so with that person at the forefront of your mind - from the start to the end of the process/. You think about what they already have, and imagine what they might need or want or be delighted by. To make a gift is to make something bespoke, one-off, especially for them, especially by you.  When you give a gift, you relinquish control. It still remains your creation - just as one might recognise a painting as "a Picasso," without implying Picasso still owns it - it just stops being your thing.  

For all the reasons commercial producers love making products, they really don't like making gifts.  Even making a gift for someone you know takes thought, creativity and imagination - and the process is ten times harder if it's someone you only see once a year.  Worst of all, even if you make the perfect gift, once you've given it away, you have to start over again.  Different gifts suit different people - a fact much attestested to by, and at the annoyance of, every Christmas Eve shopper who wishes they could by 12 of one thing and call it quits.

5 signs your show is a product, not a gift.

1. The references are interchangeable.  
• "It could be worse, you could be in <insert name of local town>".
2. The jokes are replicated.  
• Same jokes as last year?  
• Same jokes as the production company other shows?
3. The roles are archetypes not characters.  
• The actors play DAME and COMIC, not SARAH and BILLY.
4. The costumes and set are a hodgepodge of what the producer/hire company/actor has in stock 
• "We'll work out something funny to say when he comes on during rehearsal."
• 
  
5. It contains scenes, routines or lines that somebody else wrote for some other play or film, for some other actors in some other context (and possibly some other generation.) 

• "We'll do that bit - you know that whatshisface does - does anyone remember how it goes?"

The Pied Piper of Hamelin (T= 36 months)

This year's production in Bury will be testbed for my theories and the culmination of my research.  Everything about the production is hyperlocal, from the ground up.  It's been a heck of a task to prep everything, but with 6 weeks until rehearsals, I've got a feeling we're going to give over something quite extraordinary to the people of Bury this Christmas.

There's no space left in this blog to explain how we've applied the lens of hyperlocalism, and the framework of meaning-gifting to all the different parts of our process.  If you want that kind of detail you'll have to wait for the 100,000 word thesis to come out sometimes next summer.  Not only am I recording my journey, I'm establishing recommendations for best practice - so we call all make panto better together.

Of course, if you don't want to wait that long, you can buy a ticket and come and see for yourself!

5 Signs to watch out for, that show The Pied Piper was made as a gift, not a product

(and good ideas to nab and reinvent in your own practice):

 

1.    Themes are relevant to this audience at this time. 

    Everyone in Bury gets a wish every time Bury FC are promoted

    The villain is seeking to develop the land beneath the market 

2.   Local references, characters and plot points hard baked into the script, not added on!

PEEWEE: Where are all the black puddings? Have you checked upper Ramsbottom?

BEA:          I did. I found something.  But it definitely wasn't black pudding.

          ORANGE PEEL: Quiet you two, or I'll invent the police and have you all arrested!

3.    Comedy and meaning emanate from the shared experience of the local audience.

Singing.

Market day in the borough of bury

half hour wait for a table at spoons

half a mile tailback into bury

Grind to a halt on

The b-road from Bolton

And you’ll be here soon!  

4.    Physical elements are designed or sourced specifically to facilitate the moments made by the script-in-performance.

 eg, The front cloth is a map of the town

the portals are Peel Tower and Bury Market sign

the mayor is costumed as an Orange (referencing famous Buryite Robert Peel)

5.    The community are engaged with during the process, not just at the moment of transaction.

Audition slots set aside for local residents.  Local casting.

Opportunities made available for local communities and creatives

Local businesses sponsoring access provision

Follow up surveys and opportunities for feedback

Why Jack and the Beanstalk is NOT like the others

I've spent so long on my blog talking about cultures from around the world, what a delight it is to sit down and write about something very British.  Jack and the Beanstalk.  It's got beans and a chicken - what could be more British than that?

"I thought chickens are domesticated jungle fowl originating from South East Asia."

Alright smart Alec, maybe they are - but it's still got gold and a giant, and I saw a guy who was 6'5" drop a bag of pound coins in Tesco yesterday - so what are you saying?

In fact, Jack and the Beanstalk is so British, that during the UKPA symposium on diversity earlier this year, it was held up by one panellist as an example of the type of story that white people should be allowed to put on if they only employ white actors.  I am paraphrasing here (because 10 months ago I had no idea that 500 people would be reading my blog every fortnight... otherwise I would have carried around a dictaphone) but I recall the admonishing going something like this "there are plenty of British stories you can use for pantomimes without going round the world and stealing other people's (AKA Aladdin)."

Well, Jack and the Beanstalk is particularly British... perhaps mores than you think.

The Greeks Invented Gayness

God, I loved Father Ted

Gayness aside, the ancient Greek's invented lots of things.  One of those, arguably, was a formalised dramaturgy.  Certainly, Aristotle's lecture notes on how to produce a successful tragedy are the earliest known surviving thoughts on the structure of the dramatic art form.

FUN FACT #1: Scholars know that Aristotle lectured on how to produce a successful comedy/satyr play, but his notes for these lectures are lost to the mists of time.

FUN FACT #2: The Athenians used to perform plays once a year during the (several-day-long) festival of Dionysus. The 32 Ancient Greek plays that have survived (think Agamemnon, Antigone, Electra, etc.)  have survived because they were performed at this festival.

What does any of this have to do with pantomime?  Rather a lot as it turns out.  

Aristotle's codification of how a (tragic) plot should be laid out, became (for a very long time) THE accepted understanding of narrative structure in Western theatre.

Nobody fell for Aristotle's pull-my-finger gag twice 

So what did Aristotle say?

• Characters"must be either of a higher or a lower type (for moral character mainly answers to these divisions, goodness and badness being the distinguishing marks of moral difference)" (Poetics, Part II)
• "Comedy is, as we have said, an imitation of characters of a lower type - not, however in the full sense of the word bad, the ludicrous being merely a subdivision of the ugly.  It consists in some defect or ugliness which is not painful or destructive." (Poetics, Part V)
• A perfect tragedy should [...] excite pity and fear.  [...] A well-constructed plot should, therefore be single in its issue, rather than double as some maintain.  The change of fortune should be not from bad to good, but, reversely, from good to bad.  It should come about as the result not of vice, but of some great error or frailty..." (Poetics, part XIII)

Why am I quoting some dead Greek guy from thousands of years ago?  Is it because I spent £10k on am MA that focussed of Aristotle and I'm desperately trying to justify my purchasing decision?  Partially yes. Is it because the history of art is conversational and you can't understand theatre today without understanding where it has come from?  Ooh - that sounds clever... I wish I had thought of that.

The reason that Aristotle's waffling about theatre is important to us is because it is THE best example of how political and social culture drives narrative structure... and this, it turns out is super relevant to panto today.  Let me explain.

Waxing lyrical about the Brazilian

If you haven't heard the name Augusto Boal, you are missing out.  He is without a doubt one of the most insightful, innovative and influential thinkers about theatre of the twentieth (and 9 years of the twenty-first) century.  One of his great insights that has always stuck with me comes from his seminal work: Theatre of the Oppressed.  In the chapter "Aristotle's coercive system of tragedy," he argues that the narrative structure of Aristotle is a necessary tool of the slave-owning Athenian state.

In other words: if you want to assure the enslaved 90% of your population that they should be obedient and morally noble on penalty of divine judgement, you make them watch tragedy.  If the gods judge the noble Agamemnon, how much more-so wilt thou be judged?  

"Finally, so that the spectator will keep in mind the terrible consequences of committing the error not just vicariously but in actuality, Aristotle demands that tragedy have a terrible end, which he calls catastrophe."

Augusto Boal, Theatre of the Oppressed (1973) 

Brazilian gymnast Arthur Mariano's opinions on Aristotle are undocumented

Also, from Boal's point of view, tragedy brings with it the added bonus that you get to see someone much posher than you get their comeuppance.  What blissful catharsis! OK, so you might be a little bit enslaved, and the Athenian slave-owner that owns you may be lazy, or jealous or prideful - but you can rest assured he will get his just deserts... after all that is what always happens in a tragedy.  

Of course, the paradigm that tragedy is a coercive political tool puts Boal at loggerheads with Aristotle who claims that that this "hero's journey" is an inevitable and universal story structure (an idea I ended pinching for my TEDx talk on how to teach maths, which I delivered in my younger, slimmer days shortly after Aristotle's death).  

"Aristotle's coercive system of tragedy survives to this day, thanks to its great efficacy. It is, in effect, a powerful system of intimidation. The structure of the system may vary in a thousand ways, making it difficult at times to find all the elements of its structure, but the system will nevertheless be there, working to carry out its basic task: the purgation of all antisocial elements." 

ibid.

"For example: the stories of "Western" movies are Aristotelian (at least, all the ones I have seen)."

ii bids.  

If you are a wicked step-sister who bullies Cinderella, you will get your comeuppance.

If you are vain and betray your friends, you will end up in court like Mother Goose.

BUT if you are good and follow the rules and see the best in people then you will be able to turn the most angry, beastly man into a gentle and considerate Prince, just like Belle.  (Yeah right, Belle... because that always works!)

According to Boal - just like the slave owning societies of ancient Athens, our hugely unequal capitalist societies are stabilised through the oppression of the masses by the promulgation of coercive narrative structures.

*If all this has whet your appetite for learning a bit about Boal, here's a good blog about Theatre of the Oppressed.

Different cultures, different stories

This week I went to see the much hyped sci-fi film: The Creator.

My one word review: Risible.  

Perhaps I am being unfair.  After all, it is difficult to sum up an entire 2.5hr piece of work in a single word.

My full review: Utterly risible.

I won't spoil the plot by giving away the minutiae, suffice to say: if you sent a group of GCSE kids on a weekend dramaturgy course and asked them to come up with a plot to show what they had learned it would be this film.

Everything that could happen at the last minute happened at the last minute “to build tension”.  Everything that could have a countdown had a countdown

The twists and turns of the “plot” (of which there were so many as to limit any time for character development to zero) were so telegraphed  that you would have to be a moron not to see them several scenes in advance. This leaves the whole film being a tedious unwrapping of a present that you already know what it is and didn’t want in the first place.

The film is clearly the product of a society that is promoting multicultural harmony. Which is no bad thing in its self. However, it has nothing interesting to say about AI. 

Essentially, what we have in this film is a reworked slave redemption narrative. It is Django unchained, but instead of white people owning black people, we all own AI, and humans are the slave masters. However, this doesn’t in any way talk about what AI actually is. The danger of AI, is not that it is a Tibetan monk, because it isn’t, the danger of AI is that it is self replicating and can move throughout bodies.  e.g. one of the premises of this film is that AI has become a small child, and has to learn. But that’s not how AI learns... if it took an AI the same time as a human being to learn things, it would be no threat, in fact, I’m not sure why people would build it.  It would obviate all of the benefits of being an AI. In its attempts to say something profound about humanity  (the film says nothing profound -in fact, as far as messages go, it’s nothing that terminator two didn’t say 30 years ago) the film sacrifices its ability to say anything meaningful about AI.

Pardon?

For a start, it doesn’t make sense. How of the Chinese ended up with advanced AI, humanlike, robotics, and they still carry spears live in corrugated iron sheds. Can’t we think of anything better?  

FUCK MISS SAIGON

The main thing this film made me think about was Kim Lee’s Untitled: Fuck Miss Saigon Play.  

The Creator is a story about an American who goes to somewhere in the Far East where people have spears and live in corrugated iron sheds, has a baby (or does he?) then comes back six years later to claim the child. Kim Lee's play points out that this is also the story of Madame Butterfly, South Pacific, Miss Saigon etc. and asks the question: do we have to perpetuate these hackneyed and tired narrative structures?

I did not enjoy this play...

...for about a hundred reasons that I will rant about to anybody who buys me a beer.  But you haven't bought me a beer, and it's not about panto... so... back to the point.

However, just as Boal highlighted in his OG takedown of Aristotle, Kim Lee's play articulates the truth on display in The Creator: that cultures generate narrative structures in order to protect themselves.

The Athenians needed to control a population of slaves - they developed tragedy.

The USA need to hold together an ethnically diverse population, they develop a "redeemed slave narrative"of Django Unchained and The Creator.  They want to justify the use of arms to spread democracy, they develop the "white saviour" narrative of Miss Saigon.

There's nothing wrong with these narratives per se, I like Miss Saigon!  But it is important to understand that they serve a political as well as an artistic function.

FINALLY... PANTO!

So what does this mean for panto?  Where have these stories come from?  What are the political functions that they serve?

Contemporary panto has roots in melodrama, which is fundamentally a Zoroastrianesque good vs evil cage match.  There's a villain (boo!) and a hero (hooray!).  Consequently, most of the plots that fit the form well are hero's journeys - an Aristotelian hero who is noble but unfulfilled, goes on a journey, there are twists and turns, they learn something about themselves (anagnorisis), and in the end they overcome evil, gets the girl (or Prince), and everyone lives happily ever after.

Aristotelian panto titles

Cinderella

Robin Hood

Beauty and the Beast

Mother Goose

Dick Whittington

Sleeping Beauty

Snow White

These are the types of stories that Victorians would approve of.  The types of narratives that a state who wanted to proselytise morality and subservience to a very rigid and stratified class-system would develop.

But (as advertised)

Jack and the Beanstalk is NOT like the others.

It actually draws from an earlier tradition of Celtic heroes who are morally ambiguous.  In the Celtic narrative tradition heroism is born not out of nobility, but out of quick wits and cunning.  Jack is a thief, who plunders gold from the lord... but he is a thief who get away with it.

This is the type of story that commoners tell their children.  You can't be Prince Charming unless you're a prince.  But anyone can be Jack if they're bold, bare-faced and lucky.

You can see it in the casting profiles.  Get called for a Prince Charming audition, and you might get cast as Dick Whittington.  But a Jack is a Jack is a Jack.

Super interesting aside: scholars think the Hansel and Gretel narrative developed during the little Ice Age (around the 1300s) during a period in which wide spread famine caused some families to abondon their children in the woods, and there were reports of ne'erdowells resorting to cannibalism.

Of course, the society we live in today is NOT the society that these narratives were developed for.  Our political needs have changed.

The class system of the Victorian age is fading.  The sexes are much more equal.  Heterosexuality is no longer assumed of everybody.  Our demographics are becoming ever more diverse.  The need for international cooperation has taken the place of British nationalism.  We need stories that bring together lots of different people; that inspire; that include; that empower.

You can see the effects of these shift in these political needs in the way these stories are staged today.  Aladdin is set, not in China, but in Hackney.  The villain wasn't evil, they were misunderstood.  The ol' Maid Marion-rescues-Robin/Jill-rescues-Jack switcheroo is now so common in pantos, it too is in danger of becoming hackneyed.  

DOING SOMETHING BETTER

The panto canon is popular.   I see no reason for abandoning it completely.  Of course you can be clever and creative - you could retool Aladdin as a narrative to highlight poverty and internationalism by setting it in a Beijing favella (tickets available here) .  Or if you don't lie that, you could scout around for another narrative.  There ARE other stories out there... and less well known stories provide more wiggle room.

OK, so you can't bugger about with Cinderella - there's too much plot.  No-one will be happy if Prince Charming loses a shoe and the wicked step mother is really good all along.  But you could probably do something interesting with Rumpelstiltskin... I mean - who can remember the actual story anyway?  Something to do with spinning thread into gold?  With a bit of creativity maybe you could retool it to say something profound about love and otherisation... (tickets available here).

And if you're a producer reading this thinking "that sounds like a risk" - my sales for Rumpelstiltskin are up 35% in the same venue on the same point last year when we produced Aladdin in the same venue.  And what's the one thing I've heard from ticket buyers over and over again? 

"Ooh, Rumpelstiltskin.  We've not seen that one before?"

Early photograph of a young Aristotle
trying to remember the plot of Rumpelstiltskin 

Is it Snow White if it Doesn't Have Dwarfs?

It’s official – you can’t be a dwarf bullfighter in Spain! 

I’m sorry to have to break the news to you like this, but if you are a little person with dreams of being a Toreador in Madrid, you’re too late! Your luck is well and truly out. 

What bullfighters see running towards them...

As reported last week in the Guardian here, enjoying a little person fighting a bull is discrimination according to Spain’s Royal Board on Disabilities (NB in the UK, dwarfism is not considered a disability under the 2010 Disabilities Act unless it has a ‘substantial’ and ‘long-term’ negative effect on your ability to do normal daily activities). 

The intention is surely well meaning. Little people frequently report incidents in which they feel threatened, othered or lampooned simply because of their physical differences.

In a comment about the unacceptability of the word ‘midget’ in reference to little people, Warwick Davis (Patron, Little People UK) reminds us that: 

“many little people have suffered bullying and ridicule in their lives which causes them to lose confidence and they can become isolated.” 

                                                                                                                               www.littlepeopleuk.org

This is exactly the kind of ridicule that the Spanish government is seeking to stamp out with the moratorium on little people in bullfights. Surely nobody could disagree with that? Well, some people do: the bullfighters who just lost their jobs. 

The Guardian article goes to quote dwarf bullfighter, Daniel Calderón:

“They take it for granted that people are being denigrated or laughed at, and it’s the opposite: the respect they have for us is impressive.” 

Of course it’s impressive. I couldn’t do it. Could you? 

The athleticism, prowess and performance skills of these bullfighters draws crowds. Crowds that pay money. Money that goes to the bullfighters.

One may well ponder: if the performers are happy performing, and the audience happy to watch them their performance, who it is exactly that's getting offended by the thought of bullfighters with dwarfism.

Nobody actually watching it. No-one who's actually there.

Logically, via a process of elimination, we're left with the awkward conclusion: the only people getting offended are people who aren't there to see it. Peculiar grounds for a ban!

If the drifting of social mores makes their performances distasteful to modern audiences, then let the market close the show. If the performers feel like they are disrespected or otherised then let them quit. Given the existence of multiple other avenues by which those against the practice may be satisfied, one might perceive legislation as an unnecessarily blunt tool. 

Similar (presumably well intentioned) qualms are already having impacts on pantomime. 

 

The panto that must not be named

Panto Poster, Belfast
© Albert Bridge, Licensed under Creative Commons

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs remains a popular panto title (you can see productions this year in theatres from Bournemouth to Manchester), but mark my words, the title is firmly within the sights of the censors.  

Move over Mystic Meg, here is my prediction: if we don’t do something, once Aladdin falls, Snow White will be next. 

In some circles, even the title proves contentious. Those wary of causing offence with the word ‘dwarf’ may seek to circumvent accusations of discrimination by bowdlerising the title (e.g. Snow White and the Magnificent Seven, Hastings 2021). This is at their peril – appropriate use of the word dwarf is contested space. While there are some voices in the little person community who seek to distance themselves from the word, others are proud of being dwarf performers, and feel that the omission of the word is akin to erasing their identity. 

Producers wishing to sidestep this ethical minefield commonly omit the word from the title (e.g. Kilmarnock and Kings Lynn 2022), but under pressure from some lobbies may withdraw the title altogether. 

I, for one, can personally guarantee that as long as I produce the Saddleworth and Bury pantomimes, I will never produce Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs!!! Of course not! I could never afford it! 

Not only does having eight titular characters increase the cast size beyond reason for a 250+ venue, performers who are little people are in high demand at Christmas, commanding excellent fees in return for their skills. 

And why not? As every performer filling out their Spotlight profile will tell you: sell what you’ve got to sell. If you can juggle fire, put it in your bio – heck, even if you think you could learn to juggle fire between the audition and rehearsals, it’s probably worth jotting down. If you are a little person, and there’s a part for a little person, you may well think “I'll get my agent onto that!” and who could blame anyone for cashing in. 

The Cast of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
at the Stevenage Christmas Lights Switch-on 2010
photo by Peter O'Connor aka anemoneprojectors

Again, we must acknowledge the multiplicity of opinions held by people with dwarfism, a truth which Eugene Grant expertly illustrates in this article in which he explains his reasons for eschewing panto castings to another actor with dwarfism from the other side of the debate. 

However, as with all of these debates, surely the argument for personal liberty conquers all. If you want the part, take it. If you don’t, don’t. 

Of course, I can understand that as an artist, the idea of playing the same comedic role each year might become somewhat tedious, and there is certainly room for the industry to respond to this.

Doing Something Better

No matter where you stand on the role of actors with dwarfism in pantomime, we can surely all agree that the industry has room for improvement. But what practical steps can producers take to improve their practice? Here are five suggestions:

1.     Audition actors on their skills, not their size  

 

I have heard tell of producers selecting performers purely on the basis of their dwarfism, as opposed to their skill as a performer. Not only is this dehumanising, it massively sells the production short. How can you possibly utilise your performers to their full potential if you don’t know what they can do? If Andy Ford didn’t know that Ben Goffe had impeccable timing and incredible rapport with the audience, then we would never have had the infamous sword scene from Dick Whittington (and the world would be a poorer place). 

2.     Ring-fence opportunities  

If you are producing Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, employ little people, not kids wearing foam Disney heads. Not only are the kids inevitably rubbish, (sorry, kids-in-foam-heads... it’s true!), but doing so takes away one of the reliable casting opportunities away from performers who may otherwise face significant challenges in landing conventional roles.  

3.     Cast broadly

Be open minded with your breakdowns and casting. Seek to provide opportunities for talented performers with dwarfism in roles other than 'dwarf'. Talented performers deserve challenging and complex roles. Let’s see some little people as heroes, princesses, dames, and villains! When you release your castings, use explicitly inclusive language to signal the suitability of roles for the broadest range of applicants.  

4.     Listen to your actors

Include performers in the discussion about how they are portrayed on stage. Remember: there are a multiplicity of opinions amongst actors from the little people community. Ask your performers: what do they think? How can you respond? 

5.     Consider access 

There are over 400 types of dwarfism and performers with dwarfism may have varying access requirements to participate optimally in rehearsals and performance. Communication is key. Remember: it is always incumbent upon the producer to be proactive in understanding the access requirements of everyone they employ, whether that is on stage or off. 

 

Case study: My Ethical Quandary 

Rumpelstiltskin © The Big Tiny
Market Drayton/Saddleworth 2023

I have now completed written edit 7 of Rumpelstiltskin for 2023 production.  

My plot explores the role of the outcast. I don’t want to give too much away, but the otherisation of the eponymous Rumpelstiltskin, and the resolution of his character arc is a critical component of the narrative structure. The role is complex, three dimensional and delicious and is a gift to the right actor. 

Now, I’m pleased to say we’ve always had a policy of casting the best performers we can find (that’s for any role, irrespective of height). We take great pains to use inclusive language in our breakdowns to encourage diversity of applications. However, thinking specifically about Rumpelstiltskin, I have considered the implications of casting a character actor with dwarfism. Such a casting would certainly highlight the themes of otherisation, but would it be too on the nose? 

In her amazingly thought-provoking book ‘Disfigured’ Amanda Leduc analyses portrayals of disability in fairy tales. She points out that not only is disability/difference often associated with villainy. Villains are often defined, even named, by their disability (e.g. Scar in the Lion King, Captain Hook in Peter Pan). It’s an unfortunate trope that once someone points it out to you, you start to see everywhere.

A Stonkingly Good Read
available here

The brilliance of her writing lies in her use of anecdote and personal experience to illustrate how harmful stereotypes can end up otherising the very people they should be edifying: 

“There is the story of Irené Colthurst, who like me has cerebral palsy and as a young girl watched Cinderella put her foot into a glass slipper.  Irené got her shoes from Nordstrom, the only store that allowed you to mix and match shoes of the same style but different sizes.  ‘Some of the most unpleasant memories I have,’ she tells me, 'are of sitting in the shoe department… the shoes rubbed so much that they could and often did rub sores in my feet.  Sometimes to the point of bleeding. 

But Cinderella, Irené notes, never had any trouble like this.  ‘Nobody else fits the dainty-foot shoe, and this is how easily she slips back into it? Voila, happily ever after?’  

                                                                                                                    Disfigured; Leduc, A. p 89-90 

It provides food for thought. I certainly don’t want to perpetuate harmful stereotypes, or reinforce feelings of otherness in my cast, crew or audience.  

 

Philosophically, I’m still drawn to the argument for personal liberty.  Like the bullfighters in Spain, I firmly believe we should respect the choices of the performers. If a great character actor with dwarfism comes to the auditions, I’d have no qualms at all in offering them Rumpelstiltskin.  

 

Of course, I have the advantage of having written the script, so I’m pretty confident that even if the part were played by a little person, our production would elegantly finesse concerns of otherisation.  However short of attaching a script to the casting breakdown, I have no way of effectively communicating this confidence on Spotlight. And whilst, I’m sure there are a range of opinions on casting a little person as the villain, I am very aware of the optics around a “Panto Seeks Little Person for Role of Rumpelstiltskin” headline. 

With such a thorny issue - what should I do? What I always do when I think about casting: chat everything through with the best agent in town. (No kidding, producers. HUGE plug - Yvonne Ianson at I&K Talent is a dream to work with: straight up and down, very responsive, and has a raft of fantastic actors on her books. You're welcome.) Unfortunately, Yvonne doesn’t currently represent any little-person character actors with excellent singing voices, and yearnings to play a panto villain in rural Yorkshire... though she’s managed to proffer some promising leads!

In the end, I erred on the side of caution. When we published our castings this morning, none of the breakdowns explicitly encouraged applications from character actors with dwarfism. 

(But if you do know of any, send them the link to this blog.)