Indefatigably British

My German grandmother never understood the point of pantomime. She’d lived in England for more than half her life, spoke English like a native (actually, a good deal better) and had a sound appreciation of English humour, from Lewis Carroll to The Good Life. However, she was happy to admit that the panto bug had completely passed her by. She knew that pantomime was the one art form that was indefatigably British, and that no foreigner could ever hope to decipher it. Of course she was absolutely right. No other entertainment sums up our innate Euroscepticism quite like panto. And no British Christmas is complete without a chorus of ‘Oh, no you’re not!’ or ‘He’s behind you!’

That’s not to say, though, that we actually enjoy it. Traditionally, a trip to the pantomime was a lot like brandy butter or cold turkey — a Yuletide ‘treat’ to be endured with stoic grace. But the good news is that in recent years, panto has been enjoying a modest renaissance. The big productions are glamorous again and many of the smaller shows are performed with a wit and verve that seemed sorely absent 20 years ago, when I first trawled the panto circuit as a po-faced tyro critic. Last year’s Dick Whittington at the Lyric Hammersmith was the best pantomime I’d seen in a long time (the Hackney Empire’s annual panto is another reliable banker. Lloyd Evans reviews its Cinderella on page 87) and the list of this year’s big shows reads like a Who’s Who of British showbiz: Bonnie Langford in Jack & the Beanstalk; Christopher Biggins in Robinson Crusoe; Tommy Steele as Scrooge; Bobby Davro as Wishee Washee…It’s a parallel universe where former Page Three girls (Linda Lusardi) get equal billing with former MPs (Ann Widdecombe), where serious actors rub shoulderpads with the Light Ent brigade of sitcom veterans, soap opera stalwarts and so-called reality TV ‘stars’.