New holiday tradition: Giving in to the gift of British pantomime

By Martha Christopherson | San Francisco Chronicle, December 3, 2006

Photo courtesy of Theatre Royal, Bath 

BATH, England - I love Christmas and the tradition that swirls around this holiday like a warm, woolen scarf knitted by my grandmother. I love wrapping each gift with precision and topping it with a perfect bow. I love ceremoniously opening boxes of ornaments and hanging each one with care on the tree while sipping champagne from a flute adorned with a reindeer charm. And the music -- I love the music.

But sometimes you need to enjoy the gift of someone else's traditions.

That's what happened when I found myself in Bath, England on a holiday getaway with my husband, Larry, looking at a brochure for "Carols by Candlelight" at the exclusive Pump Room. It sounded perfect -- an evening listening to carols surrounded by the neoclassic brilliance of the salon aglow in candlelight.

Unfortunately, several other people thought it sounded perfect too. It was sold out.

Sensing our disappointment, the polite man at the ticket office gently steered us in the direction of the Theatre Royal. "They have panto tonight," he said. "It's a holiday tradition."

Tradition? I was intrigued. We bought two tickets for "Robin Hood & the Babes in the Wood," and went into the theater.

The scene inside was like the Mad Hatter's tea party. I glanced again at my ticket stub to confirm I was at a reputable theater and not some kind of carnival fun house. As we made our way to our seats, we were pushed to one side of the aisle by two young lads wearing pirate hats and jousting at one another with glow sticks. Lunging back and forth, hooting and hollering, they put Johnny Depp's performance of Jack Sparrow to shame.

A little blond girl, bedecked in pink tights, a plaid skirt and a pink paisley top, wore a broad smile on her face as she followed her parents to their seats, her hot-pink antennae blinking from atop her head.

Children streamed down the aisles bedecked in holiday finery of every color imaginable. And they all had lights. Glow sticks glistened from the clutches of little hands. Brightly colored antennae balls bobbed on the heads of girls giggling in small huddles while other children proudly waved twinkling wands in the air like search lights sweeping the sky on opening night.

And these were just the audience members.

I knew right then and there that we were in for theater of a different kind. This was theater of the absurd -- known better as pantomime.

Pantomime, the annual English tradition performed in theaters throughout Britain, is as much an ingredient to the holidays as Christmas pudding and every bit as colorful and sweet. Pantos are wildly, zany productions of folk tales with large doses of slapstick, double entendre and modern political satire thrown in.

Once we found our seats, there we sat, a childless couple, amidst a sea of families under complete control by children on this night. It was clear this was their night -- a holiday tradition for children.

Now, you should know that my husband and I have a pact when we attend any live theatrical performance. We call it the "halftime rule." If for any reason, one of us wants to leave at intermission, we go. No questions asked. We've only acted on this once and it was an unanimous decision.

I was certain tonight would be our second unanimously decided occasion. But within minutes of the curtain going up, we were swept up in all the silliness. We booed and hissed aloud at the Sheriff of Nottingham and cheered for Robin Hood and Maid Marion. We joined in the sing-a-long -- "Have you ever, ever, ever in your long-legged life seen a long-legged sheriff with a long-legged wife?"

When we weren't sure what we were supposed to be doing; we took our cue from the children around us. They proudly beat the actors on stage to their lines and anticipated every pratfall as if they were veterans of the theater coaching the rookie cast members.

The production was classic pantomime, complete with the role of Robin Hood played by a woman. Picture Robin Hood not only in tights but hot pants, too. The principal female role, Nurse Nellie, was played by a stocky, older, male actor in nurse's drag and bright red lipstick. At intermission, not only did Larry and I both want to stay, but I ducked out to the lobby to buy a pair of hot pink, blinking antennae.

At the end of the performance, I realized the pantomime had cast a Peter Pan-like spell on me -- I wasn't ready to desert my inner child yet. I proudly perched my antennae on my head as my apprehensive husband and I walked back to our hotel.

We were passing a pub when I heard a tap on the window from inside. Antennae bobbing, I turned to see a table of young adults give me the thumbs up.

It was yet one more gift on a night of new traditions.