THE WHOLE DAME THING
In the ‘Production Notes’ I include with my pantomime scripts, I offer a brief description of the characters. For every Dame, this is exactly the same… ‘The traditional Dame, best played by a man, who should not attempt to play the part of a real woman. Dames are not 'drag' parts. She carries the large part of the comedy. A sprightly, forceful character, who drives the whole show. Physicality is all-important. Body language and facial expressions should be big and bold. Requires the ability to put over a song.’
That’s it in a nutshell, whether it be Widow Twankee, Sarah The Cook, or Mother Goose. The rest is in the script for the actor to discover for himself… providing he is prepared to do that.
Here’s a quote from ‘Plays And Players’ December 1977, about the approach to playing Dame adopted by Stanley Baxter, who was a great favourite on the Scottish pantomime circuit, until his retirement in 1991. “In the evolution of a performance… (he) doesn’t think about where he’ll get laughs until a very late stage. The early work is concentrated on those dramatic high points that he regards as keys to his character’s development.” The man is obviously a professional.
I don’t like Dames who are trying to be a solo act. They must be a character in the show, and not a show-off. The actor should never forget that he is playing a role, and as such is only one piece in the jigsaw.
Chris Harris, quoted on the BBC website, "When I come to do the panto dame I think what I try to do is try and bring an actor to work rather than a drag act."
There appears to be a trend these days towards Dames being far removed from reality. Costumes are of a kind that only a pantomime Dame would wear, and make up is becoming bizarre. There is a ‘tutorial’ on YouTube where the end product looks just like someone with their face painted.
Arthur Askey, who played Dame at the London Palladium in the 1960s made up with “ordinary pancake slap”, as he would have done for any appearance on stage. He wore a basic wig, and a basic costume, but the guy was funny, despite, or maybe because of, the lack of artificial aids.
Les Dawson, who was inspired by another Palladium Dame, the great Norman Evans, simply painted his nose red and wore a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. Chris Harris also uses a fairly basic make up.
For me, the greatest ‘Dame’ of them all was Arthur Lucan, alias Old Mother Riley, who played the Palladium and the Royal Command Performance, as the Irish washerwoman character, without exotic make up, crazy costumes, or false boobs. I did say I liked physical comedians and comediennes, didn’t I?
Chris Harris again… "Arthur Lucan played this woman called Old Mother Riley who had a daughter Kitty, he's the nearest to what I always thought panto dames should be, a totally believable character, always wringing his arms, she was always busy and ran a laundry like Widow Twankey does.”
A guy I knew played Dame in local pantomimes, and for him, the costumes were the most important part of his performance. He would write in his script, ‘Costume Number 1’, up to ‘Costume Number 8’, or even higher, at the points where he made an entrance in a different ‘dress’.
Anyone can wear outrageous costumes, but not everyone can be funny on stage, regardless of what they are wearing. Funny is more important than frippery. All right, let’s say you make an entrance in an outrageous costume, that has taken someone quite a long time to make, and has cost a pretty penny. When the audience first clocks it, they laugh… once! Is all that effort really worth one whoop?
A bit of comedy business or a comedy prop on the entrance might have exactly the same result. Try thinking, “How could I get a laugh without going to all the trouble of having a special costume made?”
Funny costumes are acceptable, providing they have some relevance to the character, the plot, and they are an exaggeration of something that might possibly be worn. It does puzzle me, why anyone would want to come on stage dressed as a snooker table, or a Christmas tree, complete with lights.
I once went to see another friend in a professional pantomime, and the Dame was played by a young man around 30 years of age. Every entrance apparently necessitated a change of costume, and wig! The costumes were almost haute couture, and the wigs were certainly haute coiffure. He was in fact a drag act, and he simply stood in one spot and delivered his lines. He didn’t do physical comedy! Ergo, he wasn’t a pantomime dame.
From the Scottish Music Hall Society site… “When I complimented the late Rikki Fulton (Francie and Josie/ Rev. I. M. Jolly) on his excellent female nurse and nanny characters, he pointed out that the secret of making this sort of role funny was to ensure that it was always larger than life. Said Rikki,”I always tried to create a particularly masculine type of Dame. The children knew it was a man in skirts and laughed even louder because of it! Had I tried to exactly replicate a vampy woman in the Danny La Rue style, it wouldn’t have worked in Panto” Some people suggest that the most famous Dame in pantomime history was likely Arthur Lucan who made a lifetime career out of portraying the dirty, bedraggled, Irish washer woman known to millions of 1950’s movie fans as Old Mother Riley. Nobody could possibly mistake the 'typical Irish' washer wifie for a 'real' lady. It was as if Arthur Lucan took the Widow Twankee in Christmas Panto and turned it into a lifelong year round career!”
Last word to the late John Inman… “The dame is much more than just a drag act. It's a walk and a wig and a frock and an attitude; you have to get your head round those, and the character unfolds.”
