Pantomime? Beauty And The Beast

When is a pantomime not a pantomime? Perhaps, before trying to answer this, I should try to define what a pantomime is.

It seems to be a form of family entertainment peculiar to the English-speaking world and consisting of a story line, usually based on a folk tale or myth, with song, dance, topical jokes, slapstick, and audience participation.

Beauty and the Beast at the Stephen Joseph has all of these things, yet feels somehow different. There is, for example, no woman dressed as a man (usually a ‘Prince Charming’) and no Dame (usually a man dressed as a woman). However, these roles are represented with significantly less ambiguity. Kiara Nicole Pillal, as Rosabelle, is clearly female and leads the cast with a determination and energy not normally accorded to the traditionally passive damsel in distress role.

Director Paul Robinson only has a cast of five actors. Rosabelle is one, so how do the other characters fill out the rest of the necessary roles? The answer is by employing some of the quickest and most radical costume changes I have seen.

As one of her personae, Amy Drake comes closest to the Pantomime Dame—well-meaning, out of her depth, dedicated to her family, but, in her case, not irredeemably dense. Annie Kirkman, as Maloria (and other parts), is the villain who torments Rosabelle, her family, and the whole of Scarborough because she has managed to impose her own version of reality on the whole town. People have to celebrate ‘Beastmas’ and collect their fears so that some undefined sea monster can be placated.

Oliver Mawdsley plays Baumtrauser, Maloria's servant, who bears a striking resemblance to Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein. From abject servant, he makes the switch to the Beast that terrifies the front row, but he turns out to be a nice person in the end.

Charlie Ryan is Rosabelle’s dad, who is innocently trying to open his Christmas gift shop. He is involved in much of the ‘it’s behind you’ business. He has a special way with ‘Dad dancing’ that younger members of the audience found hilarious. Personally, I could not see what was so funny; it seemed OK to me.

All of this talented cast had many more roles to play than I can possibly reference here. Nor have I mentioned the choice of sing-along music (Simon Slater), the variety of the set and costume design (Helen Coyston), or the impeccable timing of the lighting cues (Mark ‘Tigger’ Johnson). The whole evening goes with the pace and precision we have come to expect from the Stephen Joseph team.

So, Beauty and the Beast is an evolution of the traditional panto. As with so many other words that were formally innocuous, we must now find something new to use in standard discourse. Any suggestions?