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The earliest form of pantomime developed in the street markets and fairgrounds of Italy in the 16th century. The Commedia del’arte had its comedy, stock characters and always stories of the old man, Pantalone, the clown Pierrot and Columbine, a girl in love with the servant Arlecchino (Harlequin). In the late 1700s an actor named Joseph Grimaldi took Harlequin to new heights, as the sets became more elaborate.
By the Victorian era, the pantomime was typical Christmas fare and
I knew none of this when my mother
took me along during the festive season to the local church hall or perhaps
later on to the nearest music hall, where we would join in the fun. I think my
mother probably enjoyed the show as much as me as it was likely she had little
time or money earlier when bringing up the other nine children to enjoy the pleasure
of a night out. How I loved those shows. It never occurred to me to question
why a girl always played Aladdin or Cinderella’s ugly sisters were always a
couple of middle aged male comedians. Audience participation was and still is a
vital part of the pantomime.
One of my favourites was Dick Whittington,
perhaps because I liked his cat who accompanied him on his search for the city
paved with gold. I can still see him on that stage, sitting on the milestone
outside London with his cat alongside him. Of course, I had no idea back then
that this panto story is based on the life of a real Richard Whittington who
went on to become a four times Lord Mayor of London. He was famous for
financing projects such as drainage systems in the poorer areas of Medieval
London. Folklore has it that he made a fortune by selling his cat to an Eastern
gent who sent the cat back to his rat-infested empire, but that is one of those
believe it or not stories probably with little truth in it.
Perhaps my love of panto stemmed
from my love of reading. To see the characters I knew well come to life on the
stage was magical.
It is believed that the British
panto and the role reversal of principal boy and the Dame may have evolved from
the Feast of Fools; a Tudor tradition presided over by the Lord of Misrule.
Apparently, this feast was just an excuse for drinking to excess and the
consequential revelry. Or, this festival may have originated from the Roman
times where the master would allow his servants to take over his role as master
throughout the festival.
Whatever or wherever it originated,
pantomime is still alive and doing well. I guarantee that the settings and
characters have improved a thousand-fold since those far off days, where my
mother probably paid about sixpence or a shilling entrance fee, and we sat on
hard benches in the draughty church hall and shouted along with the crowd,
“Look behind you,” to a character on the stage who appeared oblivious to all
that was going on at his rear.
I do hope that most of you have
experienced a panto and have taken your children or grandchildren along to see
at least one.
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