Pantomime? Oh no it isn’t.
Sleeping Beauty, Storyhouse Theatre, Chester
By Austin Williams
You all know the story of Sleeping Beauty. Oh yes you do. It’s a fairy tale collected by the Brothers Grimm that has been re-told for centuries: a king and queen forget to honour a fairy, who retaliates by cursing their daughter to prick her finger, fall asleep for eternity, only to be awoken by a kiss from a roaming prince. Happy ever after.
Of course, there have been a few contemporary stick-in-the-mud criticisms about the passive MeToo assault on a non-consenting woman, but, in general, this story has stood the test of time because it is charming and has nothing to do with contemporary concerns about abusive relationships. The opposite in fact. It is a universalising story of love conquering all.
Everyone knows this, apart from the writers and cast of the “Sleeping Beauty panto” at Storyhouse, Chester who seem not to have been told the plot or any of the main characters. Then again, they seem not to understand what a panto is either, a tradition that goes back even further than the Brothers Grimm.
It is always a feelgood, fun-packed, performance intended for all the family, mixing bawdy humour for the adults and cheap gags for the kids. As one impresario put it, a panto is guaranteed to put a smile on your face. Well, I stood at the door at the end of Christmas Eve’s performance there was not one smile to be seen, other than the look of blessed relief. We’d made it.
For over two hours, we had been lectured about the evils of hate, about the merits of same-sex relationships, the need to be kind, the joys of difference, the repugnance of heterosexuality. The writer, Samantha O’Rourke, is a “disabled queer northern writer-director based in North Wales”. Tick. There is nothing funny about a man dressed as a dame after all. How could you possibly use the classic, pantomime, cross-dressing gag: “I feel rather queer” in this production without being cancelled.
The stock in trade of a panto is the question and answer: “Are you having a good time?” In all the pantomimes that I’ve been to over the years it is guaranteed to get a huge “Yessss” from children and adults alike; but here the question was too risky. Instead, they asked the audience “How are you all?” forcing a confused murmur from 800 individuals who had turned up seeking a traditional, collective experience. The real aim of this production was as a means to explore various personal identities. “Oh, yes it is; oh no it isn’t” was far too binary.
Thankfully, the prince, brilliantly played in full comedic style by Will Kirk was a hint of what might have been. The other notable character, the evil Maleficent (played by Polly Lister) was a quality performer, but her character could only add to the confusion… after all, if the heroes were so achingly, irritatingly, unappealingly woke, then why was Maleficent meant to be a baddy? Few people booed when she arrived. Even fewer cheered, or even recognised, the good guys. The unenlightened in the audience – those who didn’t get it – were revealed as the real stage villains of the piece.
This is what happens when the message overtakes the medium. A high-point of the show was when bubbles floated from the roof (for no apparent reason) and bored children jumped out of their seats to grasp at some fun while it lasted, as a distraction from the soapy nonsense on stage. O’Rourke has forgotten that this was meant to be a feelgood, audience-engaging fun night out, and instead treated us to a lecture about diversity and inclusion. I was surprised that explicit advice on the health and safety dangers of sharp needles and spinning wheels was missed, but every other woke cliché slapped us in the face. In the process, this production ignored the storyline, and completely forgot about the audience.
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