MY BÊTE NOIR
If a person buys a self-assembly bookcase, on opening the carton, the chances are they will find that the kit comprises various pieces of wood, a polythene bag containing screws, dowels, etc., plus a booklet which describes the construction procedure, probably by means of simple line illustrations.
The individual could of course, ignore this booklet completely and attempt their own method of construction, but the end result would most likely, be something that looked nothing like a bookcase, and proved to be totally unsuitable for holding books.
It’s a fair bet that the instruction booklet has been prepared by people who knew what they were about, and if the purchaser followed it, step by step, they would quite quickly become the owner of a properly constructed, useful piece of furniture, and also have a sense of pride and achievement.
It seems rather strange therefore, that whilst only a fool would ignore the instructions in a booklet included with a self-assembly bookcase, and devise his or her own plan, certain people appear to think that it is perfectly acceptable, indeed, almost essential, to adopt a different approach with a pantomime script. They don’t trust the writer, or apparently, think that they know better.
A pantomime script should contain all the elements required to produce a successful show - even the screws, the dowels and those ‘special bits’ that hold it all together. It should have been written by someone who ‘knows what they are about’, and therefore, following this ‘book of instructions’ will produce the right kind of end product, something that not only serves its purpose, but can also be a proud possession, which is admired by other people.
The first function of the script is to inspire the interpretive artists - to make them say, “There are wonderful opportunities here for me.” Part of being a good actor is the ability to spot these opportunities, and make the best use of them. Unfortunately, some self-opinionated performers, whose skills generally tend to be average at best, see the script only as a means for them to set off on an ego trip. Their main concern, indeed sometimes their only concern, is what they can do for the script, rather than what the script can do for them.
The script’s second function is to supply the words the actors will speak. These words may have to be cut or changed deliberately, but there is no excuse for changing them at random, like the actor who ‘gets the idea’ and then paraphrases his speeches, or assumes that he can make up better words offhand than the playwright could after long thought. This assumption is rarely justified.
On page 3 of my script for ‘Robinson Crusoe’, there is the following to describe the entrance of the Dame:
FX MOTOR HORN OFF STAGE
CLARA (OFF) Fresh fi-ish! Fre-esh fi-ish!
MUSIC CUE COVER MUSIC - CLARA CRUSOE
ENTER CLARA CRUSOE PUSHING A CART LOADED WITH FISH. CART HAS A HORN ATTACHED AND A SIGN – ‘CLARA CRUSOE AND SONS, FISHMONGERS’
There follows some dialogue where Clara introduces herself, cracks a corny joke about fish, sings a few bars from a selection of ‘fish’ songs, in mock operatic fashion, whilst holding up examples of her piscatorial produce, and then throws some ‘sweetie shrimps’ to the audience. The fact that the sign on the cart reads, ‘CLARA CRUSOE AND SONS, FISHMONGERS’, tells the audience immediately who she is, and her relationship to two other members of the cast. The whole sequence occupies slightly less than a page of the script.
I went to see a production put on by a group located not far from where I live, and wished that I hadn’t. The individual playing the Dame entered from the wings on a skateboard! There was no horn, which sets up the anticipation of a comedy entrance, and there was no cover music. He was obviously not used to the contraption, as around mid stage he fell of it, and went A over T! This was not a pre-arranged comedy fall, and so the drummer didn’t have a cymbal crash ready.
Unfortunately, the smatterer didn’t break his neck, but he did manage to dislodge the radio mike that had been fixed about his person. There followed a couple of minutes of fiddling under his costume, accompanied by almost inaudible, mumbled ad-libbing.
When the problem was eventually sorted out, he came to the front of the stage and asked for the houselights to be put on, so that he could ask spontaneous questions of the audience. Some faint replies necessitated repeating, and after four or five minutes of this nonsense, which seemed to last at least twice as long, he asked for the houselights to be taken out and he disappeared into the wings to return, pushing a supermarket trolley, with a ‘sign’ that had been written in felt-tip pen on the reverse of a side of a cornflake packet, attached to it. Then it was back to the script… sort of.
I was incensed. The whole sequence was a complete shambles, and showed that this imposter didn’t know the first thing about comedy.
Had he done this at rehearsals? If so, why hadn’t the director nipped it in the bud straight away? Had he saved this up for the first performance, and decided after weeks of rehearsing, to go his own way?
I was later informed that he would be playing Fagin in the society’s forthcoming production of ‘Oliver’. That got me thinking. Would he make his entrance as the "receiver of stolen goods", on a pogo stick, or maybe a unicycle! I doubt very much that he did!
When I arrived back home, I had calmed down somewhat, and I decided that I would read the script just to make sure that it did what it was supposed to do. I have never played a pantomime Dame in my life, but I acted out the scene in my living room, and it worked, perfectly well. It flowed and it was funny.
In reviews of amateur shows I have noted the following… “their ad-libbing in place of forgotten lines… added to the humour.” There you go, then! Don’t bother to learn the lines and the whole thing will be hilarious! Or maybe it won’t!
“Many of the best laughs came from the busload of Buttons fans in the cheap seats at the back. And from the spontaneous script embroidery which ensued. Inveterate ad-libber, Archer Turbild met his match this year in Norman Cowsedge. Another welcome newcomer was Arlene Lank, who played a sweet Cinderella, coping coolly with the improvisation around her.”
If Plan A above doesn’t work, try Plan B! Plant some wags in the one-and-nines, and have a duel in the Ad-Lib Stakes. If I had been Arlene I would have walked off the stage, and left the so-and-sos to it!
The names have been changed to protect the innocent… and the guilty!
When it comes to pantomimes, ad-libbers are my bête noir! They slow down a production, and wind me up!
I realise of course that they will continue, unchecked and un-funny, ad-libbing ad infinitum.
“Heigh-ho!” says Anthony Rowley.
A GOOD IDEA, SON!
(A catchphrase used by Max Bygraves on the BBC Light Program comedy show, ‘Educating Archie’, broadcast in the 1950s.)
In my script for ‘Aladdin’, I have Abanazar, the Magnificent Magician from Morocco
Recently, in toy and novelty shops, I have come across 100mm diameter Spectral Balls, High Bouncing Glitter Balls, Glitter Water Balls, and Light Up Air Balls, all of which would be ideal for the scene described above. Some of them have built in light-emitting gizmos, but the basic ones would most likely glitter considerably under the stage lights. They are available from only £1.99!I see Abanazar producing one of these devices from a pocket inside his cloak or whatever, and with some artistic manipulation and dialogue over, make the ball come alive, as it were.
Perhaps there are other pantomimes where a crystal ball is consulted.
Try one or two of the moves as depicted on the video…
Don’t bother learning the whole routine!
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