Pantomime is such a fantastically British art form; a sarcastic blend of slapstick, farce and musical comedy that feels inextricably interwoven with the festive season, brimming with daft jokes for the kids and innuendo for the adults. But panto and I haven’t always been on the best of terms. Our conscious uncoupling resulted from the traumatizingly formative pantomime experience of my youth where everything was too loud, too overwhelming, and too upsetting because one of the ugly stepsisters hit on my grandpa – while my grandma was sitting RIGHT NEXT TO HIM. None of us went home filled with Yuletide joy that night – witnessing ‘Allo ‘Allo’s Sue Hodge try to chat up a close family member does slightly dull your enthusiasm for the medium, it turns out – and I’ve never been to another panto since. Until now…

As luck would have it, it’s another iteration of Cinderella that’s got me tentatively dipping my toe back into the panto pool. Decreed by this production as ‘the Fairy Godmother of all pantomimes’, Cinderella is the ultimate Christmas classic, a story so familiar you could probably shout out the lines in your sleep – and this new production is filled with enough glitz, glamour and giggles to remind you why it’s one of the ultimate feel-good fairy tales. I entered the theatre with not a little trepidation and brought backup in the form of my grandpa (not the one Sue Hodge tried to pick up; pretty sure that one’s off panto for life), and left it singing, laughing, and wishing for an encore!

Musical director Michael Morwood’s scintillating New Theatre orchestra makes a joyful noise (their rendition of Pure Imagination, a recurring musical motif, is utterly magical) and the production values are uniformly amazing, from the incredible sets and visual effects to the gorgeous costumes and choreography. Pantos tend to keep up to date with the music of their time – remember S Club 7’s appearance in that Aladdin panto ITV used to rerun every Christmas in the early ‘00s? This reviewer fondly does – and Cinderella has its fair share of modern(ish) tunes on its slate from the likes of Beyonce, the Jonas Brothers, Shawn Mendes and Pink, as well as some campy classics by Shirley Bassey and Gloria Gaynor.

The cast is stellar across the board, but it’s Gok Wan as the Fairy Gokmother (!) that’s maybe the most perfect, meta casting choice of all – because who better to play the ultimate fairy tale makeover guru than the man who taught a nation how to look good naked? Have no fear: there’s no nudity here, as the cast are fabulously costumed to Wan’s high standards. Wan leads the show with effortless charm, wrangling some sense out of the wacky proceedings and making a grand entrance into every scene via sparkly explosion or flying moon. He also accidentally lobbed a bunch of toilet rolls into the audience during a deliciously chaotic rendition of the 12 Days of Christmas, which is the kind of quality ‘it’ll be alright on the night’ goof you just don’t get in your bog-standard (pun intended) end-of-year production.

Phil Butler is amazing as the lovably lovelorn Buttons, pining unrequitedly for Teleri Hughes’ lovely Cinderella. Butler channels the keenly controlled mania of Lee Evans (a compliment I wouldn’t give lightly), playing especially well off of his co-master of ceremonies Gok Wan, and had the crowd in the palm of his hand. Butler’s delivery transforms every line into a zinger – I was responsible for the loudest guffaw when Buttons claimed to be in his mid-thirties (alarming evidence that I’m turning into my grandma who, when we saw 12 Angry Men at the New Theatre some years ago, watched Tom Conti walk onstage and proclaimed in the loudest stage whisper in the history of theatre, ‘That’s not Tom Conti, is it? My God, he’s looking old!’)

Hughes’ Cinders and Rob Wilshaw’s Prince Charming don’t have the meatiest material but they perform their roles beautifully and lay claim to the loveliest duet, a surprisingly emotional version of Shawn Mendes’ If I Can’t Have You. They also get to flex their comedic chops during a hilarious cover of Beyonce’s Listen, a poignant ballad broken up by a jealous Buttons repeatedly asking Cinderella ‘Who’s that bloke?’ Dale Evans particularly stands out as Dandrini, the Prince’s best friend, who seems like the lovechild of James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender and who shares with Wilshaw an exciting cover of Jonas Brothers’ Sucker and belts out an epic solo version of Pink’s Get the Party Started, backed by the excellent ensemble dancers. (Regan Gascoigne and Nathan Skyrme were on particularly lively form).

But let’s be honest: this show belongs to the ugly stepsisters, and Ceri Dupree and Mike Doyle as the winkingly-named Tess and Claudia own the stage whenever they strut onto it. Doyle, an award-winning comedian, returns here for his seventh consecutive year as the New Theatre’s panto stalwart; a performer hasn’t got this much joyous mileage out of a Welshily-drawled ‘alriiiiiiight’ since Nessa Jenkins, and he wears the ever-living hell out of the eye-poppingly inventive costumes – designed by Ceri Dupree, who also plays the Tess to his Claudia. Dupree, an international cabaret star, is the show’s secret weapon, countering Doyle’s outrageous bawdiness with an elegantly deadpan aloofness – and by God he knows how to wear a gown. The revolving runway of their increasingly garish costumes is a gag that never gets old – at various points Doyle dresses in outfits that variously evoke a bee, a lampshade and set of traffic lights, and early on in the show the sisters emerge from the stage garbed in what I can only describe as nightmarishly horticultural French and Saunders cosplay. Their Shirley Bassey-off alone is something you have to witness with your own eyes.

I’ll try not to spoil too many of the jokes here because watching them unfold live is a delight you should experience for yourselves – and (thankfully for this introvert) audience participation is limited to your standard ‘OH NO IT ISN’T’ fare, not the ‘dragging someone onstage’ nightmares that have haunted my dreams in the run-up to this performance. I was especially delighted to see so many Welshisms in the show that gave it a personal feel: from Buttons’ snarky asides about Ely and Butetown to the prince inviting such nobles as Megan of Mynachdy to the ball, it’s wonderfully tailored to Welsh audiences.

Cinderella was the show which reignited the snuffed flame of panto love in my heart, and for that I’ll forever be grateful. It’s total escapism; a show brimming with joy, jokes and genuineness that made me forget the worries of the world for two hours, and it’s the ultimate family show because it absolutely has something for everyone. ‘The word for it is magical,’ my grandpa declared after it ended, and I couldn’t agree more: not only will you go to the ball, you’ll have one too!

Cinderella is playing at the New Theatre throughout the festive season, and concludes its Cardiff run on 12 January 2020.

(3.5 / 5)

“It’s Alice with a ‘y’,” (Alys) says the protagonist of The Curious Muchness of Stuff and Nonsense to a puzzled Caterpillar and an equally puzzled audience. It’s Welsh. The ‘welshified’ Alice in Wonderland, written by Hefin Robinson, is a funny and song-filled piece for the pleasure of children. 

Odyssey, Hijinx Community Theatre Group, manages to delight its audience, and not just the children in the audience, in their Christmas production. It begins with Alys glued to her phone and being reminded, together with the audience, to switch it off. It’s time for her birthday party. Curious Muchness is very much a party with a large cast of disabled and non-disabled performers from Odyssey and Woodlands High School parading and singing on stage. The piece seeks to tap into contemporary life: the White Rabbit looks for a ‘clever watch’ (smart watch), the Caterpillar is a celebrity singer, a lost Alys gets told to check Googlemaps to find her way home, and three former Queen’s servants demand their jobs back.  

Curious Muchness is at its best when it plays with Cardiff’s weather and the Welsh language. It is unpretentious light fun for a very young audience. It is the perfect production for the ‘jolly season’. It is Alice in Wonderland with no darkness. The lack of darkness takes away the suspense and the emotional arch. It also poses the question of what is appropriate for children. Should fear really have no place in children’s entertainment? The fantastical theatre (and film) of today is too often an escape into an unthreatening and joyful world. Curious Muchness is no exception. As a child, my favourite scene of Disney’s Snow White was the transformation of the beautiful Queen into a terrifying witch. The darkness of folk stories is not just to scare, but to let us travel safely into the unknown. Dark stories are a journey into our unconscious, filled with fears, dangers, and dreams, made safe by knowing that it is only our imagination, a shared dream, that is always resolved at the end by going back to our conscious state. We go back with a deeper sense of who we are.  

(5 / 5)

Hefyd, os oes gennych blant bach,
mae’r sioe ‘Yr Hwyaden Fach Hyll’ hefyd yn rhedeg yn y Sherman tan Rhagfyr
31ain. 

Until 2018 I was a
Theatr Clwyd Rock ‘n’ Roll Panto virgin! However, after attending Dick Whittington: The Puuurfect Rock ‘n’
Roll Panto last year I knew I would be spending at least one night a year
with this fantastical, festive phenomenon! This year the classic tale getting
the Theatr Clwyd treatment was Jack and the Beanstalk.

Upon entering the
auditorium, we are greeted almost immediately with characters from the
production mingling in the audience the interacting with the children as well
as a never-ending stream of bubbles from the ceiling; and you’re never too old
to enjoy bubbles! It isn’t clear whether this is the usual routine or whether the
cast are, very effectively, covering the fact that the majority of the audience
begin coming in after the 7pm start time (with evening productions generally
starting at 7.30pm there is perhaps some confusion).

I adore the uniqueness of Theatr Clwyd’s pantomimes and this production is no exception; the small cast provide consistently strong vocals, fabulous harmonies and simple but effective choreography (without the need for a gaggle of ‘theatre kids’ in the background!) The cast all work so hard; darting between costumes changes to play the drums, guitar, keyboards etc. It is also extremely refreshing to hear constant use of the Welsh language throughout the show as well as references to the local area. The costumes are again a sight to behold; well thought out and often traditional but with hints of punk rock! Special mention must go to Dame Tegwen Trott’s wonderful array of dresses and headgear; the detail impeccable!

The set design is inspiring, particularly the magical moment in which the beanstalk appears through a trap door in the centre of the stage, slowly, as if growing. The beanstalk is designed around a ladder, which allows the characters to actually ‘climb the beanstalk’ into the clouds! This, for me, is what theatre is all about; where something happens on stage that gives you goosebumps and, even as an adult, almost makes you believe the impossible is possible! I was also curious as to how the giant would be portrayed. This is done very simply with the use of a voice over and the odd appearance of ‘parts’ of the character; the projection of a moving eye for example. This is all that’s needed to make the audience imagine that there really is a giant at the top of the beanstalk!

This production
includes a superb cast with phenomenal vocals, wonderful musicianship and a
brilliant repertoire of songs including I
love Rock ‘n’ Roll, Thinking Out Loud and Material Girl! All of the cast members are truly fantastic in their
own right but I feel I must single out Phylip Harries, Theatr Clwyd’s long
running Dame, and I must say, the best Dame this side of Rhyl (!!!) and Ben
Locke as Tommy Trott who just oozed theatricality; once on stage you can’t help
but be drawn to his comedic facial expressions and hilarious reactions.

Da iawn Theatr Clwyd on another ‘ardderchog’ production!

Theatr Clwyd, Mold

November 22^nd 2019-January 18^th 2020

Writer: Chris Patterson

Director: Zoë Waterman

Resident Assistant Director: Eleri B Jones

Casting: Kay Magson CDG

Design: Adrian Gee

Musical Director: Tayo Akinbode

Choreographer: Will Tuckett

Technical: Mark Howland, Matthew Williams, Alec Reece, Edward Salt,
Cassey Driver

Cast includes: Adam Barlow, Katie-Elin-Salt, Phylip Harries, Jessica
Jolleys, Ben Locke, Alice McKenna, Peter Mooney, Elin Phillips, Lynwen Haf Roberts,
Luke Thornton

Running time: Approximately 2 hours and 30 minutes (inc. interval)

Behind The Label is a theatre project created by people who have experienced homelessness, abuse and addiction, of the most harrowing kinds. It’s not dour or preachy in the slightest.

Being tucked away in a small theatre, wondering how to describe this performance, was a jarring experience. It shows the very best of what theatre can do – but the message of the show should spill into the streets, onto our ballots.

Set on ‘EasyInject’ airlines, the host and hostess provide
great visual gags and wordplay to set the scene, even if the framing device
seems a bit hollow to contain the meat of the performance. The videos of the
performers before and after the monologues and dialogues were engaging, adding
new layers to the show as it transcended from fiction, to documentary, to spoken
word.

The concept allowed for a brilliant Britney Spears parody,
which had the audience in raptures of laughter. The metaphor of ‘baggage
collection’ could have been bluntly done, and there were a few times the
execution faltered, but the concept was mostly pulled off very well.

The simplicity of the idea really honed the performers vulnerability and range, the performers themselves were simply stunning. Every performer’s story was told through a scathingly honest lens, with hope and horror in equal measure. Their stories covered everything from domestic violence, to racism and alcoholism all with disarmingly charming morbid humour. All of the performers were the picture of courage throughout the show, flitting between their toughest personas and their most extreme vulnerabilities.

A few performers seemed like leaves every minute they were
on stage, constantly shaking but with strong voices that carried the story of
their lives throughout every corner of the building. It was impressive that the
narrative of the play covered their failures and false starts as well as their
hopes for the future and didn’t patronise anyone by pretending there are easy
endings.

For the 2-hour run time, the theatre was transformed into a pulsing community. Where perfume and programmes mixed with old friends of the performers. Where I was genuinely charmed by the woman behind my seat, chanting words of love and solidarity to the people she recognised on stage.

Being tasked with this review made me feel quietly queasy.
How can I review the ways performers package and unwrap their trauma? The
empathy that pulsed throughout the audience.

‘‘Bring out Ozzy’, Ozzy, one of the performers, who has
worked with this theatre group for years, seethed during one of his monologues.

While art is undoubtedly a healing force, at what point does expression move into exploitation?

I have nothing but the upmost respect for TVO, the theatre company who created this fantastic show.

Every performer said that the company had changed their life for the better, and it’s clear to see everyone behind it puts in an extraordinary amount of work to make this a genuinely empowering and well supported experience. But does all art about homelessness adhere to this standard of excellence?

I found myself asking such questions even more when the
audience trailed out. I heard many say some variation of ‘that reminded me of
me…’ as there was something relatable in each performers story.

When does identifying with something become co-opting it?

We have all felt isolated, estranged, angry, turned to ‘bad
coping mechanisms’ because they are the only things that can drag us through
the moment.

But we have not all slept in shop fronts, robbed or been
robbed, held at the fists of appalling violence.

There were undoubtedly homeless people in the audience, people who had been homeless, and at risk of homelessness, along with the privileged. How is it that some people, with the same circumstances, can be homed and others left out on homeless through no fault of character or choices?

This show did everything theatre is meant for. Provoke questions. Stoke empathy. And amplify the voices of those we need to hear the most. The performers in this show, and their peers on the streets, have always had voices.

Let’s hope one day it doesn’t take shows like these,
however wonderfully they are pulled off, for us to listen.