Fire the glitter cannons! Unleash the water pistols! The panto season is here. But how did the cross-dressing dame become so central to the tradition? And in an age of gender fluidity, should we still be laughing?
With his thick eyebrows drawn way up high on his forehead and the tip of his nose heavily powdered with rouge, Dan Leno’s Mother Goose was a sensation. A music hall celebrity, a standup comic and a champion clog-dancer, Leno was the star of late Victorian pantomime. His career began at the Surrey Theatre in 1886, and his performances – particularly his Mother Goose in 1902, which he played alongside a gaggle of live animals – came to define the role of the dame as we know her now: the over-the-top, unlucky-in-love, slapstick heart of the show.
Since the late 19th century, panto has been a fixture in the British festive season, with celebrities taking to the stage for six weeks to make everyone from toddlers to great-grandparents giggle. I have always been an avid fan: in 2021 I saw three in one day. But during the last few seasons, I’ve frequently felt uncomfortable at some of the laughter directed towards panto dames. Amid the whirling of puns and ever more extravagant outfits, I have increasingly felt that the joke presented to the audience is rooted in damaging stereotypes about gender. When the water guns are empty and the glitter cannons have been fired, what’s so funny about a bloke in a frock?
