By Dan O’Farrell.
As a certifiably pretentious graduate of English Literature, full-time English teacher and ‘wannabe’ man-of-letters, I’ve laboured most of my post-childhood life believing that the great British tradition of ’The Christmas Pantomime’ was – most assuredly – not for me. Like a miserly Scrooge confronted with theatrical charity collectors, for years my only reaction has been ‘Bah! Humbug! Are there no Shakespeare’s? Are there no Ibsen’s?’ My ongoing mid-life crisis has assuredly made me question many of my previous assumptions about life, and tonight – at the sacred cradle of the arts that is Salisbury Playhouse – my stuck-up attitude to pantomime finally took a thorough roasting. I haven’t had so much fun in years (3/12/25).
Anyone working in a theatre will tell you: the annual Christmas pantomime is the most important show of the year. Get it right, and whole ice-cream scoffing families will flock to your theatrical temple year after year: pitch it wrong and financial disaster awaits. Of course, it’s not just about the money: for most children, pantomime is their first (and often only) exposure to live theatre, and the joyful memories that actors, directors, stage-technicians and choreographers can give them at this crucial moment might save the theatrical arts for decades to come. No pressure then…
In fact, no pressure is visible on the faces of anyone at the theatre tonight. From the outset, the mood is one of jubilant silliness. In pantomime, everyone breaks the fourth wall all the time, and our first confidante tonight is Nic James’ Fairy Fabulous – a caricatured and gleeful Elvis complete with immovable quiff-piece and star-shaped guitar. Of course, the rules dictate that the good fairy has to be balanced by a bad fairy: enter the terrific Emma Norman as Fleschcreep, a flat-vowelled Traffic Warden committed to wiping out all music and song in ‘Salisbury-shire’ on the orders of her boss, Gary the Giant.
The challenge to any writers of a modern pantomime – much like the writers of any new James Bond film – is to give the audience the conventions they expect and rely on (how can you say you’ve even been to a panto if you don’t get to shout ‘Oh no it isn’t!’ or ‘She’s behind you.!’?) – but not let it feel tired or formulaic. The writing team here – Plested, Brown and Wilsher – tread this tight-rope delightfully. All the requisite parts are present and correct – how could it be otherwise? – but everything is made to feel fresh and contemporary.
Our young leads – George Olney’s Jack and Isabella Mason’s Jill – are convincingly wide-eyed and committed, throwing themselves into every plot-contrivance with sweetly thwarted smiles and lovingly crafted pop-hit parodies. No damsel-in-distress tropes here: Jack’s role in the tale is to help Jill reach the bright lights of ‘Camden Town’ to play the gigs she dreams of in lager-drenched clubs. The bulk of the comedy is supplied – again, surely by ancient decree – by our pantomime dame and – a new innovation? – her friendly cow, Dolly.
Dan Smith is excellent value as Dame Caroline Trotter, handling crowd-work (poor Aaron…), filthy innuendos (you’ve got to tickle the parents and grandparents too…) and terrific one-liners with a carefree aplomb that occasionally reminded me of Tommy Cooper if he’d taken to performing in full drag. There’s very little higher praise than that in my book. Incidentally, in a week where newspapers have reported right-wing complaints about the ‘immorality’ of drag-performers appearing in a pantomime-style performance in Richmond, it feels doubly good to see Dan Smith bring the all-ages house down. If it annoys Turning Point UK, then it gains cultural bonus-points…
Which brings me to Dolly the ‘cow-shaped-creature’ (it’s a long story). Played in-totality as a Dolly Parton tribute by the effervescent Eloise Runnette, Dolly’s southern drawl threatens to steal the show at every turn. There are too many great jokes to spoil, so I’ll give you ‘I Will Always Love Moo’ for free, and only add that the ‘Milkonator’ scene will haunt me to the end of my days – a Dali-esque psychedelically-surreal-fever-cheese-dream version of the weirdest moments of Barbarella played out to a much-repeated parody of Girls Aloud’s ‘Love Machine’ (changed to ‘Milk Machine’, naturally). It’s a disturbing hoot, and my therapist will grow rich on my need to recover from it.
There is so much going on at all times that I’m going to run out of words before doing it all justice. The gleefully camp staging, the live-band in a proper orchestra-pit, the delighted and delightful ensemble of dancers, the coups-de-theatre of the beanstalk and the giant…
So, don’t be like miserable old-Scrooge here for many years: treat yourself to this oldest of mummer’s-play traditions, whether you have children to induct or not. Park your cynicism at the door and ‘Jack And The Beanstalk’ at Salisbury Playhouse will leave you grinning, bright-eyed and considerably less stressed than when you went in. And any art-form that can do that is worth your time.
‘Jack And The Beanstalk’ runs at Salisbury Playhouse until 11th January 2026. For tickets and more information, click here.
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