The panto season has begun, here in Blighty. The last frantic dress rehearsals have been held, and final director’s notes read like interminable sermons to shattered casts late into the November night.
Now, they’re on for real.
Every school worth its salt buses its kids to a local theatre to while away an afternoon shouting at the top of their voices and roaring with mirth at men dressed gaudily up as women and duel entendre they will not understand for another decade.
The dames have to be my favourite. Today we had our festive dose of pantomime, and we trundled off to see Cinderella.
In this tale of tales the baddies are the Ugly Sisters. Raucous, ribald, suggestive, dressed so that their audience needs sunshades to appreciate them properly, our two dames were nasty, selfish, evil and conniving. Everything, indeed, that a panto baddie should be.
Meanwhile, in an establishment up the road, my daughter was in a lesson examining panto heroes and baddies.
Her small discussion group consisted of her, a friend, and boy named after a Southern seaside town. Not Bognor; that would be cruel. But anonymity is paramount: let us, for the sake of argument, call him Bexhill.
Maddie and Bexhill must pick a hero to model. Their choice? Superman.
The literary snob in me winced as she related their chosen goodie. Of all the good guys in all the novels in all the world, they had to choose him. Maddie had done a little campaigning for Hamlet, it seems, but without much conviction. Superman was more fun.
“But really, Hamlet is an anti-hero,” I volunteered as we talked across the dinner table. “He lost in the end. Heros win.”
Although there is Atlas.
We began to range round heroes and villains we might choose. Hercules, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy, Horrible Henry, Henry VIII. I told the children about the pantomime dames, whose job it was to hinder Cinders.
“Or….” said Maddie, “….there’s the hero in the Kate Shrewsday stories..”
I checked my hearing. “What, you mean Phil?” I asked, referring to her eccentric father.
Apparently, this is precisely who she meant.
Felix began to look conspiratorial. “Daddy’s a superhero,” he confided wickedly.
“Oh yes?” I said. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” said Felix. “He has superpowers. He can see through windows. He can open doors with his bare hands. He can walk down streets. He can drive cars.”
How many times have I heard Phil intoning his ‘superpowers’ to his offspring, accompanied by their delighted chortles? It is the everyday which makes him extraordinary. On this point, everyone is unanimous.
He does have a certain limpet persistence, though. A never-give-up attention to detail. No matter what the problem is, he worries at it until it is solved.
It reminds me a group of children subjected to the malevolent workings of a magnificent pantomime baddie: the machiavellian Count Olaf in Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events.
Olaf is a psychotic nightmare creature, the central evil force in a set of bestsellers which are the darling of the tweenage set.
As the series opens, a solicitor arrives to tell three children that their parents have been killed in a fire at their home. Olaf is to be their new guardian. We nurse a growing suspicion that he was also the arsonist.
And so it begins: a story of misfortune and a seemingly endless battle against the worst kind of adversity.
The youngest toddler, Sunny, bites things. That’s her forte. The middle boy- Klaus – is an avid reader with a talent for translating the theoretical into the practical. But it is Violet, the eldest, an inventor, who gives us a magical line which we might hold as a key in the hardest of times.
She says: “There is always something.”
And so there is: some way to turn events round, even when they are at their darkest. Grabbing Book the Eleventh, The Grim Grotto, I open the pages where the three youngsters are about to be set adrift in a steampunk submarine. Olaf has cut a round circle of glass out of one of the windows and they must surely perish.
But there is something. The youngest has developed a penchant for gum: and together they use it to stick the circle back into the window and make the strange craft seaworthy once again.
Some of us have no magical powers, yet we possess the greatest superpower of all: that of inventive resilience.
Cinderella’s something was a fairy godmother; Phil’s might just be a fairy light bulb in the right place at the right time. The Baudelaire children spent thirteen books delivering themselves from the teeth of disenchantment and misfortune, using only their own ingenuity.
But for each and every hero or heroine; there is always something.
Picture source here
Kate Shrewsday 
“But for each and every hero or heroine; there is always something.”…and I would like to think that something, is within all of us too 🙂 Nice post!
Thanks 🙂 When the going gets tough I always utter a silent prayer that I will have enough resilience and inventiveness to get through. So far, so good…
Lovely post, Kate.
Thanks, EB 🙂
I think your children are wonderful.
They always have a take on things which is different from mine. Where did they develop such individuality??
Because you actually sit down at a table to have dinner as a family and use the time to engage with them in lively and interesting conversation would be one of the reasons is my guess…
All Dad’s are superheroes, they just need to show their skills to the world. Bonnie Tyler declared ‘I need a hero’! She just wasn’t looking in the right place. 😉
(Apologies for lowering the tone, we’ve just had a delivery and it was playing in the van…… )
The tone has been livened up considerably, Nuvofelt 😀 Time to download Bonnie on iTunes, I think!
A delightful post, Kate! How wonderful that the children see Phil as a superhero, because, of course, he is. He even came to your rescue a few weeks ago when you couldn’t post. Wonderful!
Whadda guy, Penny 😀 Just as long as he doesn’t start wearing his underpants on the outside of his trousers….
I love this; such fun and love
*trots off to investigate A Series of Unfortunate Events*
Speccy, I warn you: it’s addictive! Olaf is one of the meanest and most hilarious baddies of all time. Lemony Snicket is a total genius.
Your dinner table discussions are priceless. If only more children had this special opportunity.
Rosemary, one could only wish such times with their parents for all children
Thank you both 🙂 I guess all families have their conversation. When Phil and I were young we would say things which elicited puzzled looks and incomprehension. Now we have the luxury of not only a partner but a whole family who talk and think in the same way. It’s good to come home to somewhere people have half an idea what on earth you’re going on about.
For years I’ve been saying “there’s always something” or “it’s always something” but with a 180-degree-turned application of the phrase; i.e., the plumbing is stopped up, the tax bill is due, the car won’t start…. I’ll need to re-think my approach.
Maybe Maddie will someday write the “Kate Shrewsday stories?” All of the requirements for a great series seem to be at her fingertips. 🙂
“Panto season” — I correctly assumed pantomime, but needed to go Googling again. What fun!! Love the photos here: http://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/performing-arts/theatre-reviews/interview_karen_dunbar_and_clare_grogan_gear_up_for_panto_season_1_1991494
and here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/stage/2011/dec/04/cinderella-hackney-empire-london-review
Oh, Claire Grogan: one of my own personal heroines, Karen! I grew up with Gregory’s Girl! A very pretty panto actress. Most panto dames are a little more visually challenging. You can find more about Clive Rowe, if the Beeb will let you watch it, here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/8405609.stm
I WAS allowed to watch it, Kate! 🙂 Thanks!
I love that Phil is your children’s hero. That goes to show how safe he makes them feel… Not everyone has that. Thanks for a lovely post!
Thanks, Denise. It’s good to have a hero with clay feet, too:Phil is flawed but loveable anyway. Glad you enjoyed the post.
I am intrigued with your theater events. I don’t know of a parallel in my experience, but I echo other comments applauding the rich conversations and cultural opportunities you carefully cultivate for your delightful children. And the paramount gift is a father they know as a super hero. You are a special family, Kate, and I so enjoy picturing you in the events of your day. Debra
Always lovely to have you along, Debra: and to read of your exploits, far away but always inspiring 😉
A wonderful, magical post. Your children are so lucky to have you and Phil… I expect you both are superheroes to them.
Luckily we have our other sides too, Ruth: my chronic absent mindedness and untidy disposition keeps me far away from the world of the Super 😀
I think it is something that your children can discuss all of these different, wide-ranging superheroes from all eras, and at the end, arrive at their Dad (and you, because you turned him into a superpower in your writing.)
We were fortunate to attend a panto when we were there. Some of our friends did Robin Hood. I’d never seen anything like it. We screamed and shouted and did all the audience participation bits (largely because Clive threatened to make us both come up onstage if we did not, and we KNEW he would follow through.) I don’t know why those aren’t popular in America. We certainly enjoyed it.
They’re a bit odd, Andra: we have this mummer’s streak in our makeup here, at best affable tosh, at worst as sinister as in The Wicker Man. But if one forgets who one is and just enjoys a good bellow, bawdy dress and questionable humour – as well as sweets being thrown into the audience – one can have a good time. It sounds as if you were right at home 😀
I’m with you, Kate. Superman would be way, way, way down on my list if I needed to pick a hero.
Instead, I’d pick Nanny McPhee, or Mary Poppins, or Dumbledore, or Merlin, or . . . Ebenezer Scrooge, or the Grinch, or . . . Hans Solo, or Princess Leia, or . . . the Monk who sold his Ferrari.
I just never marvel at Marvel comic book super heroes. They may be super heroes, but they don’t seem like the real deal.
They’re just 2D, aren’t they, Nancy? I love the idea of the Monk who sold his Ferrari. Must delve.
http://www.amazon.com/Monk-Who-Sold-His-Ferrari/dp/0062515675
This is a wonderful (thought badly written) book. It shares some wonderful Zen wisdom and practices but the writing is trite. 😉
Still, with a title like that I cannot help myself. I am off to Amazon to purchase a copy. Thank you, Nancy!
I played the Narrator in a panto once, many, many years ago, Kate. I had to stand in front of a giant fairy-tale book and announce to the audience all of the characters as they emerged from the pages of the book, allow them to do their scene, and then link to the next scene. That was embarrassing enough, but I had to do it dressed in tight blue and red – and not in a Superman way. I was about seven years old, and dressed as a jester. Teachers were cruel in them days, but they always played the baddies… and got the biggest boos! Great post (and thanks for the memory!) 😉
Tom, what an image to leave us with this morning: trial by pantomime. I bet you made a lovely elf 🙂
Loved the Lemony Snicket books — he is a very funny, astute and talented writer. And yes, I agree with you and Violet, there is always something. It’s just keeping ourselves open to what that something is.
I love Lemony Snicket! And I find I had a similar childhood experience to Tom’s. I was the narrator of a pantomime of The Three Sillies. During dress rehearsal, (which was open air) I stood on a chair with my giant story book prop, and delivered my lines in ringing dramatic tones. Until the chair tipped me into the young spruce tree at my back! Oh, well. Bad dress rehearsal, great opening night! Phil IS a superhero, and is fast becoming legend thanks to his loyal chronicler.
Oh, to have been a fly on a nearby spruce tree, Elizabeth 😀 What a classic moment! I do hope you had other dramatic opportunities which restored your love of the Christmas play….
Dear Kate,
Yes, “There is always something.” And for me today, it is learning about the Lemony Snicket books. I so like a series where I am privileged to watch the characters grow and change. This sounds “right up my alley!” So I’m headed to the library website.
Like Penny, I remember that a couple of weeks ago, Phil pinchhit for you. He did an outstanding job. So even if flawed, he’s my idea of a hero. Someone who steps in and saves the day. But you know, Kate, I personally like heroes and heroines to be flawed. In that way they are human and knowable. They deserve my respect because they go beyond what seems to hold many of us back–the very flaws that are the sign of our humanity.
Peace.
Phil is indeed a hero. Everyone is allowed an achilles heel: it spices the plot up beautifully, as the Greeks found. Flaws, as you say: they make our heroes loveable. Happy Snicketing!
There’s always something – what comes to mind with that phrase is the way it can also be used in the negative sense – always something to trip us up. It’s good to remember the handy flipside of the phrase so that we use the “somethings” of life to lift us up instead of weigh us down.
I haven’t read the books, but have been advised by Techie that the first two were pretty good, but after that – well he lost interest. It’s fascinating isn’t it what grabs each child’s imagination.
Here’s to Phil- a superhero of unmeasurable ability!