
Ever wondered about pantomime dames? Learn their secrets at this show
A good dame should grow old disgracefully. So says Johnny McKnight, and he should know. This dressed up doyen of twenty-first century pantomime has been at it for 20 years now, and has learnt a trick or two along the way he wants to share with us in this solo show and tell of his brilliant career. In order to do this, McKnight arrives on stage in full costume, make up and attitude as Dorothy Blawna-Gale, who has become a true friend, both to McKnight and young audiences who lap up her larger than life persona.
Don't be fooled by the disguise, mind. Behind the extravagant wig, make up and gingham ensemble that liberates McKnight to reel off a stream of deadly one-liners, McKnight lays bare both his personal odyssey into the pantosphere while relating some of its colourful history.
Read More:
From a primary school kid enthralled by panto great Johnny Beattie, McKnight works his way up to don a frock to call his own. As he speaks directly with the audience, McKnight sets down the rules of Dorothy, essentially a bullet point guide to do and don'ts learnt the hard way through his anything goes early years. From dealing with complaints McKnight learns the art of staying true to one's muse whilst taking responsibility for his actions.
Crucially, McKnight comes clean regarding his personal emancipation as a gay man as sex and sexuality come calling. Out of all this, McKnight retains an evangelical zeal for his artform, and sees panto as a genuinely subversive means of creative expression.
Originally presented as this year's annual Cameron Lecture at the University of Glasgow in honour of former tutor Dr. Alasdair Cameron, McKnight's candid tour de force has been turned into a full production care of director John Tiffany.
Tiffany sprinkles his own high-octane magic on to things in his National Theatre of Scotland/Traverse Theatre co-production. The result sees McKnight framed by Grant Anderson's pink hued lighting on Kenny Miller's star emblazoned showbiz set for a powerhouse of wisdom from the frontline of the original people's theatre.
Apart from anything else, McKnight is a wonderful performer who looks totally at ease onstage in a work that celebrates pantomime's roots while looking to future possibilities in a show that should be required viewing for theatre scholars throughout the land.
Until August 24, various times.
For festival tickets, see here
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Times
a day ago
- Times
The awful final chapter of Fred Goodwin's story is yet to be told
There is a moment in Make It Happen, the National Theatre of Scotland's new production about the fall of RBS, when a furious Gordon Brown demands that Fred Goodwin be dragged from the bank's headquarters in Gogarburn in handcuffs. I wanted to stand up and punch the air. Obviously, I didn't. Such behaviour is frowned upon in the dress circle of the Festival Theatre. My fellow audience members would have been black affronted. But still, the thought was there. I can understand why some London theatre critics gave this show only three stars. They must have felt like interlopers in a mass act of therapy, with the Edinburgh audience wrestling with one of the most shameful episodes in Scottish history. I know someone who worked at a senior level of the Royal Bank at the peak of the crisis. The day it all came to a head he stepped outside his office in the City to clear his head. On a street corner a news vendor was selling the London Evening Standard, its banner headline predicting calamity. My friend asked for a copy and offered an RBS fiver in payment. 'Nah, mate, that's worthless,' said the vendor. 'They've gone bust.' Many of the 1,900 folk in the audience on Monday night lived through the hubris and nemesis of Goodwin's folly, myself included. For us, for me, this evening at the theatre was a catharsis. Middle-class Edinburgh shared in the glory of the Royal Bank of Scotland in its pomp. The money poured in. House prices soared. Michelin stars were sprinkled on the city's eateries. This was a company town and the company was doing rather well. We watched it all happen in real time. The rise of the Royal to be the biggest bank in the world. The Cupertino-like HQ which opened with a Red Arrows fly-past. Northern Rock. A banking system on the brink of collapse. The bailout by Brown and Alistair Darling. Make it Happen lands the message that this was a crisis created by Scottish bankers, using a dead Scottish economist as a lodestar, and solved by Scottish politicians. Their hubris was our hubris, pressing all our buttons. Goodwin was the pawky boy from Ferguslie Park who took on the toffs of the establishment. The backdrop to the rise of RBS was the backslapping and self-mythologising of the birth of devolution. Brown's rescue represented what we like to think of as national characteristics: canniness, integrity, smeddum. There was a moment in Monday night's performance when a woebegone Brown lamented a political age where seriousness was not a prized virtue. Some guy in the stalls shouted: 'Hear, hear!' My main reaction to the show was anger. In fact I am writing this column the morning after the performance and I am still angry. Why? In part because Goodwin never was never dragged from his well-appointed office in handcuffs, despite Brown's wishes. It was reported a few months ago that the disgraced former chief executive continues to live in Edinburgh on an annual pension estimated at £600,000. Apparently he enjoys golf at Archerfield in East Lothian, as well as indulging his fondness for classic cars. That he lives in luxury while the rest of us live with the consequences of his greed sticks in my craw. Our hollowed-out public realm is the price of a decade of austerity caused by the banking bailout. But the core of my anger is to do with Nigel Farage. Every analysis of the rise of insurgent populist nationalism in this country starts with the banking crisis in 2008. This was the key rupture in the relationship between the public and the political elite. In fact not just the political elite, all elites. Any public confidence that the country's institutions were run by competent people of goodwill was damaged, perhaps irreparably. Sure, much else has happened since. Brexit. Covid. Truss. But this is where it started. This was the seed. The populist harvest we reap today was sown in Gogarburn. Make It Happen was written by James Graham, a playwright showered with plaudits for dramatising the mores of contemporary Britain. For TV he wrote the political dramas Coalition and Brexit: The Uncivil War. For the National Theatre he wrote This House, about the fall of the Labour government in 1979, and Dear England, about Sir Gareth Southgate's management of the England men's football squad. Yes, Graham is English, born in Nottinghamshire and educated at the University of Hull. Some Scots might resent our national flaws being picked apart by an Englishman. I believe we owe him a debt of gratitude. If I have a criticism of the play it is that the consequences — economic, political, social — are not given their full weight. Perhaps Graham thought he could take them as read. Perhaps he is right. Personally, I wanted to see the enormity of the human cost acknowledged. I wanted Goodwin to look, metaphorically, in the eye of every child whose life chances have been diminished as a result of his actions. RBS was the Darien of our age. Two decades on, Scotland is only beginning to emerge from this Greek tragedy. Edinburgh has dusted itself down and begun to perk up a little. The city's financial sector has ditched the wide-oh swagger and instead embraced once more the notion that banking should be dull. RBS is now NatWest.


The Herald Scotland
2 days ago
- The Herald Scotland
A potty-mouthed harridan who will pick a fight with anyone
Traverse Theatre Happy days are here again for Eileen in Karis Kelly's new play, set in a contemporary Northern Ireland simmering with recent history. Eileen is celebrating her 90th birthday, and all four generations of the family she sired will be gathering around the kitchen table to celebrate. Or at least the women will, anyway. There's Eileen's own daughter Jenny, who keeps house and pretty much everything besides as she hoards up the past. Then there's Jenny's daughter Gilly, who's just arrived from London with her teenage offspring Muireann, who rejects her Irish name, and has no sense of history before five minutes ago. Whether Eileen has always been a potty-mouthed harridan who will pick a fight with anyone or whether it's come with age isn't clear. Either way, it sets the tone for a vicious four-way sparring in the first half of the play as the women reacquaint themselves with unsettled scores while they prepare the birthday dinner. Read More: Julia Dearden plays Eileen with an unfiltered ferocity that suggests she knows where the bodies are buried. Andrea Irvine's Gilly is a classic Irish matriarch, but she too has a volatility about her when challenged by outside forces. Caoimhe Farren's Jenny may have escaped her geographical confines, but exile brings its own problems, as Muireann Ní Fhaogáin captures the juvenile idealism of 14-year-old Muireann, What initially appears to be a scabrous domestic battlefield steeped in hand-me-down resentment as the sins of the mothers come to the surface is entertaining enough in Katie Posner's production, a collaboration between Paines Plough, Belgrade Theatre Coventry, Sheffield Theatres and Women's Prize for Playwriting in association with Lyric Theatre Belfast. As tempers fray on Lily Arnold's classic kitchen set, the truth of the absence of the men in the family leads to a dramatic and stylistic explosion. The play's shattering conclusion unearths everything beyond with seismic results in a daring evocation of the psychological damage that lingers from the barely suppressed history of the Troubles continues to leave its mark. Until August 24, various times For festival tickets see here


The Herald Scotland
2 days ago
- The Herald Scotland
Fringe: A sort of hippy science fiction eco-fable
Traverse Theatre A storm may be looming in Flora Wilson Brown's beautiful new play, but as it's title suggests, there is still some kind of hope. That hope comes through the three women from past, present and future whose appliance of science attempts to change the all-encroaching climate crisis and prevent the end of the world as we know it. In nineteenth century New York, Eunice tries to convince the scientific hierarchy of her ideas about the climate, but is either dismissed as an amateur or else patronised for being a woman dabbling in such lofty pursuits. Her collaborator John may have faith in her, but even he sees her considerable brainpower as a novelty. In a near future that will soon be now, Claire and Dan feel the heat as they fall for each other and plan a life together out of London. When the damage caused by floods intrude, extreme measures provoke a wake up call beyond everyday tragedy. Read More: Three quarters of a century from now in an Arctic research facility, Ana and Malcolm search for a particular grain to offset a food shortage. Ana's pregnancy adds to the air of expectation and yearning for sustenance. As the scenes overlap between time zones, a wonderful sense of propulsion emerges from Nancy Mendes' Bristol Old Vic production to give the play its beating heart. The dialogue is fast, with the archaic speech of Eunice and John and the heightened future-talk of Ana and Malcolm framing the easy back and forth of Claire and Dan. The cast captures this beautifully, with Phoebe Thomas a steely and determined Eunice offset by John's devotion captured by Matt Whitchurch. Rosie Dwyer as Ana and James Bradwell as Malcolm portray a similar relationship. Most tender of all, however, are Nina Singh as Claire and Jyuddah Jaymes as Dan. This gentle tone recalls the sort of hippy science fiction eco-fables that came out of the more reflective side of the 1960s counter culture. The power of Wilson Brown's text comes from that same understatement. Its sheer humanity goes beyond easy polemic to fire its longing for the world to be a better place with a vital theatrical life-force. Until August 24, various times. For festival tickets see here