Performance Review: Pantomime Queers "Beauty and the Beast"
7 July 2009
For those unfamiliar with the British genre of pantomime (not to be confused with the creepily silent performances of those guys with white gloves), initial exposure to the bawdy, interactive, anachronistic performances may be somewhat disconcerting. Evolved from the traditions of commedia dell’arte and vaudeville, pantomime has survived from the 19th century and continues to flourish today, though it hasn’t seen much success (or even recognition) outside of the British Aisles. This is an ideal performance genre through which to explore fairy tale narratives; each production is an original adaptation of a well-known story such as “Cinderella” or “Jack and the Beanstalk” instilled with moments of audience-interaction, topical and rude humor, and contemporary song-and-dance routines. Like fairy tales, pantomimes are often mistakenly pigeon-holed as a children’s genre; however, more “adult” interpretations can illustrate poignant criticisms, particularly on themes of sexuality.
As one might expect, this is a popular hobby for university students, and the Bristol Pantomime Society is one such theatre troupe to have dedicated themselves fully to this pursuit. They produce three pantos each year – at the traditional times of Christmas and Easter as well as one special summer show which is rehearsed, mounted, and performed all within a 24-hour period. In May 2008, the summer show was a particularly violent and sexual adaptation of “Beauty and the Beast” which allowed for a great deal of feminist and queer critique of the fairy tale genre, particularly as it has become Disney-fied.
This adaptation, written by Jessica Bevan (a Bristol University student), relied heavily upon familiarity with the Disney adaptation of “Beauty and the Beast”, while simultaneously incorporating a minor plot thread derived from the Narnia Chronicles of C. S. Lewis. For instance, in this production, Rose’s (Belle/Beauty) father is locked away in a cupboard by the evil Diamond (Gaston), and it is in the magical world that lies beyond the back of the wardrobe that he encounters the Beast’s castle. The traditional British humor trope of men in drag is a staple of the pantomime and is served particularly well by the themes of transformation inherent in “Beauty and the Beast” – in this version The Dame is the lovely Mrs. Ward (based on the Disney teapot). When she is transformed back into a human from her animal form with the rest of the castle staff at the end of the play and exclaims “I’m a woman!” someone else jibes, “You’re more than a woman!” Perhaps the best example of this toying with gender roles is the delightfully disgusting Tully, Diamond’s sidekick who is hopelessly in love with him. Even Rose’s father admits to enjoying the rough treatment he has received at the castle and doesn’t really want to leave at all.
The narration of the story is also a key issue here, and we are led through the performance by a bickering pair of puppets – a crocodile and shark named Snap and Crunch. The audience immediately grasps the reference to The Muppets – another childhood genre that was reappropriated for adult humor. When even they cannot agree on how to tell the story, the characters themselves at times step in. When the Beast has been killed by Diamond, and the Enchantress has restored everyone to their human forms, she doesn’t take the extra step to revive the Beast, to which Rose protests “That isn’t a happy ending. He’s supposed to come back to life so we can marry and have children and lots of wild passionate sex!” (It must be noted that to her disappointment, the Beast turns out to be a rather mundane Welshman named Kevin, and not a handsome Prince Charming at all.)
Ultimately, pantomime is the epitome of the concept of fairy tale ownership and the fluidity of folklore. It relies heavily upon tradition, but through individualized and humorous performances we are able to question the themes and messages of traditional stories, as well as the conventional (but perverted) versions that have come to establish themselves as authentic, authoritative texts.
For those unfamiliar with the British genre of pantomime (not to be confused with the creepily silent performances of those guys with white gloves), initial exposure to the bawdy, interactive, anachronistic performances may be somewhat disconcerting. Evolved from the traditions of commedia dell’arte and vaudeville, pantomime has survived from the 19th century and continues to flourish today, though it hasn’t seen much success (or even recognition) outside of the British Aisles. This is an ideal performance genre through which to explore fairy tale narratives; each production is an original adaptation of a well-known story such as “Cinderella” or “Jack and the Beanstalk” instilled with moments of audience-interaction, topical and rude humor, and contemporary song-and-dance routines. Like fairy tales, pantomimes are often mistakenly pigeon-holed as a children’s genre; however, more “adult” interpretations can illustrate poignant criticisms, particularly on themes of sexuality.
As one might expect, this is a popular hobby for university students, and the Bristol Pantomime Society is one such theatre troupe to have dedicated themselves fully to this pursuit. They produce three pantos each year – at the traditional times of Christmas and Easter as well as one special summer show which is rehearsed, mounted, and performed all within a 24-hour period. In May 2008, the summer show was a particularly violent and sexual adaptation of “Beauty and the Beast” which allowed for a great deal of feminist and queer critique of the fairy tale genre, particularly as it has become Disney-fied.
This adaptation, written by Jessica Bevan (a Bristol University student), relied heavily upon familiarity with the Disney adaptation of “Beauty and the Beast”, while simultaneously incorporating a minor plot thread derived from the Narnia Chronicles of C. S. Lewis. For instance, in this production, Rose’s (Belle/Beauty) father is locked away in a cupboard by the evil Diamond (Gaston), and it is in the magical world that lies beyond the back of the wardrobe that he encounters the Beast’s castle. The traditional British humor trope of men in drag is a staple of the pantomime and is served particularly well by the themes of transformation inherent in “Beauty and the Beast” – in this version The Dame is the lovely Mrs. Ward (based on the Disney teapot). When she is transformed back into a human from her animal form with the rest of the castle staff at the end of the play and exclaims “I’m a woman!” someone else jibes, “You’re more than a woman!” Perhaps the best example of this toying with gender roles is the delightfully disgusting Tully, Diamond’s sidekick who is hopelessly in love with him. Even Rose’s father admits to enjoying the rough treatment he has received at the castle and doesn’t really want to leave at all.
The narration of the story is also a key issue here, and we are led through the performance by a bickering pair of puppets – a crocodile and shark named Snap and Crunch. The audience immediately grasps the reference to The Muppets – another childhood genre that was reappropriated for adult humor. When even they cannot agree on how to tell the story, the characters themselves at times step in. When the Beast has been killed by Diamond, and the Enchantress has restored everyone to their human forms, she doesn’t take the extra step to revive the Beast, to which Rose protests “That isn’t a happy ending. He’s supposed to come back to life so we can marry and have children and lots of wild passionate sex!” (It must be noted that to her disappointment, the Beast turns out to be a rather mundane Welshman named Kevin, and not a handsome Prince Charming at all.)
Ultimately, pantomime is the epitome of the concept of fairy tale ownership and the fluidity of folklore. It relies heavily upon tradition, but through individualized and humorous performances we are able to question the themes and messages of traditional stories, as well as the conventional (but perverted) versions that have come to establish themselves as authentic, authoritative texts.
