Nottingham Playhouse
Austerity has no place in pantoland, thank goodness, and you can depend on Kenneth Alan Taylor's Nottingham pantomimes (of which this is the 27th) to provide a mirror version of real life: men dress up as women, good always triumphs over evil and the spending review means Taylor has opted to increase the cast size, add extra costumes and splurge even more on glitter.
Though it goes against the grain, such extravagance seems justified for such delightfully fun family entertainment. And it feels appropriate to push the boat out a little bit, as Mother Goose is a story about conspicuous consumption: the tale of a family who have a sudden turn of fortune and behave like feckless lottery winners irrespective of the Good Fairy's sound financial advice.
As always for an outsider, there's the density of the east Midlands accents to contend with. Adam Barlow's amiable Billy Goose bounces on and announces that we're going to see his mother's fur. This is slightly confusing as you may be under the impression that geese had feathers, but all is explained when it becomes apparent that it's a fun-fur he's talking about, the kind that comes with murry-go-rounds and a furris wheel.
Opinion remains divided as to whether Lady Gaga is a style icon or a publicity-seeking exhibitionist in a dry-cured dress; yet there can be no doubt that she has been a gift to pantomime designers, as John Elkington's Mother Goose is the second dame I've seen this year sporting a telephone on his head. In truth, the look doesn't suit him quite as well as when he appears in a blaze of diamante singing Don't Rain on My Parade. There really is something quite stirring about hearing one of Barbra Streisand's signature hits belted out in a baritone voice ? one of the more vocally able performers on the panto circuit, Elkington is not just a dame but a genuine diva.
The number of baddies has been increased, with a fine slapstick double act from Anthony Hoggard and Jonathan Race as Squire Squelch and Evil Eric, while Alexandra James's Wicked Witch Bane has an almost impossible task making herself heard over the chorus of boos. The appearance of a giant space monster confirms that this is, without question, theatre at its least thrifty; yet the future of Nottingham Playhouse seems assured as long as Taylor keeps producing the golden eggs.
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