Jack and the Beanstalk review – online panto is fee-fi-fo-fun
A good panto is for life, not just for Christmas. It’s two years since I took my daughters Aggie and Hilda to Hackney Empire’s Aladdin and they still sing the irresistible “panda-mime dance” as performed by a chorus line of pandas. This year, we’re trying something different: the Coventry Belgrade theatre’s Jack and the Beanstalk, written by and starring Iain Lauchlan, is one of several filmed pantomimes to be streamed during UK theatres’ winter of discontent. How successfully can the anarchic spirit of panto pandemonium be captured on screen?
Seven-year-old Hilda fidgets next to me as the film opens in a glum, empty theatre with Lauchlan and his regular sidekick Craig Hollingsworth reflecting on the year that was and the cancellation of this year’s festive shows. Pantos can be full-throttle from the start, and their audiences bring on a headache before the show has even begun, so it’s disconcerting to sit in silence watching such a quiet, sombre scene. But wait, the pair suggest, couldn’t a digital production enable them to do all sorts of “whizzy things” and let their imagination run beyond the limits of the theatre?
Soon we’re in Prickly Bottom, where a dastardly giant has parked his castle, nicked the villagers’ beloved harp and, well, the plot doesn’t really matter. It’s enough to sit back and marvel as Lauchlan races through more outfits than Beyoncé. One minute he’s a rainbow-haired super NHS fairy, then he’s an overstuffed bagpipe as Dame Trott; he goes from swinging pigtails to a bludgeon when he turns into the giant. In one of the neatest gags, Lauchlan’s tartan-sporting Dame considers herself twice offended when the giant has the cheek to declare: “I smell the blood of an English man!”
Lauchlan has Hilda in stitches but she’s also excited to see an ensemble of young performers (“children are acting, too!”) and has a soft spot for furry, blue-eyed Daisy the cow (stretching 2m due to socially distanced actors inside). But the whole cast are game. “I like Jack!” says 10-year-old Aggie, admiring Morna Macpherson’s derring-do as the principal boy. “I like Simon!” screams Hilda, as Hollingsworth blunders about before reappearing beneath a Richard III wig as Fleshcreep, his squeakily villainous voice living up to his name. Trish Adudu is a hoot as the giant’s wife and Arina Li an engaging, quick-thinking princess.
Pantomimes typically throw some topical gags over the kids’ heads to be enjoyed by adults only, but such is the shared experience of lockdown we can all laugh at jokes about Joe Wicks exercises (interesting, though, how dated some of the references already feel).
At 70 minutes, it’s a pint-sized panto, but the drawn-out closing number, The 12 Days of Lockdown, captures the artform’s interminable nature. Hilda and Aggie love the toilet humour, the costumes, Mark Walters’ shimmering pastel set designs and the energy of the whole thing. We are all drawn into the story by the actors’ frequent asides to the camera and the fact that the production never pretends to be the real thing on stage but continually reminds us it’s a workaround solution to this year’s restrictions.
Both girls agree they’d rather be in the theatre – and not just for the ice-cream – but they happily clap along and scream back at the characters when they’re prompted. What this show really achieves, though, is the giddy comedy of expectation: you can see most of these gags coming a mile off but that doesn’t stop them being funny when they arrive, and part of the joy is in the waiting.
