Jack and the Beanstalk
Clive Rowe as Dame Trot in Jack and the Beanstalk
Welcome to Hackneydale, a familiar town where the citizens get over the fact that it is always ‘brass monkeys’ by spontaneously breaking into song and dance. But all is not well. Runner Bean and Broad Bean, the evil landlords have raised rents in the town to feed the fearsome Giant Blunderbore’s insatiable appetite and, unless something is done quickly, Jack, his mother and his friends will be out on the street. It’s that time of year again…
Pantomime is a delightful diversion, celebrating the quirks and eccentricities that cement the nation, but this does not mean that it should be taken lightly. A panto run is a logistical and technical behemoth; countless sound and lighting cues, elaborate props and costumes, a barrage of stinking gags, all projected across the yelps and yells of the many children present.
If the cast were experiencing first-night jitters as the 1300-strong crowd poured into the Empire for the opening show on 27 November, it certainly didn’t show during the performance. And anyway, this is panto, the mask is supposed to slip, and when it did it was only to see the capable ensemble trying to catch a breath in the energetic and song and dance routines. Any other missed cue or tardy stage hand was amusingly drawn attention to by perennial Hackney Empire favourite Clive Rowe playing Dame Trot.
Rowe, clocking in his ninth outing at the Empire, is an accomplished entertainer with a voice that shakes the timbers. Every scene where he bursts onto the stage, warbling at the top of his lungs, wearing ever more outlandish dresses and gravity-defying hats, was met with approving hoots by the audience. But word to the wise – think twice about smuggling in a camera in hope of snapping a crafty photo. No sooner had the show begun when one man cowering in the front row was put firmly in his place by the booming Dame.
The show is punctuated with blasts from the live five-piece band, complete with honky-tonk piano, evoking the venue’s illustrious music hall history. The musical numbers come thick and fast and span a variety of different styles. Riffs on the Black Eyed Peas as Jack ascends the Beanstalk, the odious Beans husband and wife spin and twirl to a rendition of How Could You Believe Me When I Said I Love You and Dame Trot regularly launches into medleys of disco and soul. The singing calibre on offer is actually, shock horror, quite good.
The reason for this anomaly? The choice of cast, energetic and focused performers young and old from television and the West End, is a refreshing change to the traditional glut of reality show nonentities and exhumed game show hosts. They wouldn’t fit in here anyway; everyone knows that Hackney is old fashioned and traditional at heart. The Empire doesn’t need names to sell a show; the traditional acting, singing, dancing that the venue has been excelling at for the last century sells itself, and it is a joy to see the place full of mirth once again following its temporary closure earlier this year.
Director Susie McKenna has established herself as the high priestess of pantomime, clearly knowing how to get the most out of both cast and audience. The Saturday afternoon viewers sometimes needed a bit a cajoling to get truly into the spirit of things (the chaos runs for nearly three and a half hours) but by the end, everyone was springing out of their seats and swaying from side to side. The crowd was kept alert throughout with a good deal of audience participation. Confetti fell from above, tennis balls ricocheted off the balconies, a super-soaker rampage at the end and even a hapless spectator was yanked onstage to lead an ode to Buttercup the cow.
In panto tradition, it is usually the horse or cow that receives the most plaudits and, as delightful as the eyelash-fluttering, tap-dancing Buttercup is, it’s Giant Blunderbore that steals the show. The towering, red bearded, animatronic ogre elicited many a yelp from around the room, his huge protruding jaw dribbling with saliva and beady eyes swivelling. His appearance is almost worth the ticket price alone. Speaking of prices, the tickets are selling from £8.50 which certainly marks this one of the cheapest pantos in London, reflecting the inclusive nature of the event.
Aside from the inevitable allusions to the recent government spending cuts and a slightly bewildering array of shout-outs to major supermarket chains, the antics often reflect the surrounding area. The snowman (played by John Barr) boisterously bounces around the stage, enunciating in a strong Caribbean accent, and when negotiating with the Golden Hen, uses his cultural culinary predilection to ‘talk chicken’ with her. Also, Dame Trot complains that it is difficult to park Buttercup in the street due to the council extending parking meter operations until 11pm. Digs and references to local life spice up this kind of affair (and I thought that the production could have used even more).
The dialogue is brisk and clever, even though some of the more rapidly-delivered lines get drowned out by the music and general raucousness. The set design is bright and cartoony and provides excellent backdrops to the action, whether it is Molly suspended in a bird cage in the gloomy castle or Jack flogging the family cow to a mysterious old woman at a wintry crossroads.
The Hackney Empire has long since established itself as the host of the best panto in London and this year’s outing proves why any attempt to close it down could be nothing more than cultural arson. Dust off your vocal chords, wrap up warm and head down Mare Street for a riotous, rip snorting extravaganza. You won’t be disappointed. Oh no you won’t.
Jack and the Beanstalk, Hackney Empire. 27 Nov 2010 – 9 Jan 2011.
Related story: Prize panto cow steals the show