Pantomime's Racism Problem

As an American transplant to Scotland, I already felt out of my depth when I was first exposed to the art of British pantomime. American approximations of this unique and beloved art form are limited, if they are present at all. Having grown up Korean and Jewish, my exposure to Christmas traditions in my own home country is limited as it is – forget about Christmastime institutions abroad. 

So imagine my surprise when the above image appeared in my inbox. This year, Beacon Arts Centre offers a new adaptation of Aladdin, set in Greenock and featuring everyone's favourite, vaguely Asian-coded, fairytale characters. On the far right of the promo image, Mark Cox (Abanazer) sports a glittery, green analogue of Jafar's famous getup. And in the centre, Jimmy Chisholm sports an Ancient Egyptian costume as Widow Twankey. The rest of the costumes include imagery from all over the Asian continent, from the religious art of the South-East to the exaggerated sleeves of China's Qing Dynasty. With anti-Asian violence and Islamophobic rhetoric on a sharp rise, I want to shed what light I can on this practice.

I'll start by pointing out that this image – which features only white actors – is Orientalism, and it is, wholly and unequivocally, harmful and inappropriate. Opponents of the tradition of Aladdin-themed pantomime have been calling it out for years. In 2020, Lucy Lillistone covered backlash against Christmas production of Aladdin at the Forum Theatre in Billingham. At the time, the production company – Riverside Leisure Productions – doubled down on their decision to include the archetype of "The Chinese Policemen", citing only tradition. This well-practiced apathy among white theatre-makers lays bare what artists and audiences of colour have known for a long time. They highlight the attitude that, if it's harmful to you, that's your own problem.

In the same year, Simon Sladen wrote, "Why are there still singular Asian performers in productions where fellow white cast members use mascara to elongate their eyes, constantly place their hands together in a praying gesture, wear black cropped wigs and enter or exit to 'Chopsticks' or 'Chinese Laundry Blues'?" While I don't think this issue can be reduced to something as simple as representation or "diverse casting", the question bears repeating: why is pantomime seemingly exempt from the bare minimum of anti-racist consciousness?

Orientalism and blackface

The shocking entitlement expressed by white artists who repeatedly platform these tropes speaks to a wider culture of racist elision in the UK. In Forum Theatre's 2020 Aladdin, the Chinese Policemen – who, Riverside Leisure Productions director Derek Cooper argued were never meant to be read as Chinese (somehow) – were depicted by white comedy duo Darren and Rob Harper. The honest surprise with which white artists have met accusations of racism speaks to an alarming gap in cultural knowledge and to no shortage of mental and ethical gymnastics. The ongoing lack of self-awareness in these productions speaks to a hard truth about the lasting effects of British colonialism – that white artists feel it is impossible to appropriate something they already own. 

This brings me to my nittiest, grittiest gripe – in my opinion, the above articles only scratch the surface. Would Aladdin pantos be okay if the titular character were played by an Asian actor? I think not. In a theatrical tradition that so unabashedly melds every Asian culture into a single, comedic Franken-culture, the issue is hardly limited to the casting. While casting is a large part of the equation – a highly visible part, notably – our commentary on it must go deeper than pointing to something and saying that racism is bad. 

To get something like a frame of reference for how blackface and Orientalism work, I turned to Ayanna Thompson's recent book, Blackface (yes, we should all read it). While American blackface and British Orientalism have significant differences, Thompson's work makes some important points. 

Looking at the above photo, Thompson's definition of blackface should sound familiar: "On the most basic level, blackface is the application of any prosthetic – makeup, soot, burnt cork, minerals, masks, etc – to imitate the complexion of another race." By this definition, one could argue that Cox's heavy makeup in the Aladdin promo image is, in fact, blackface. (Notably, Thompson further defines "blackface minstrelsy" as an art form that employs blackface specifically to imitate and mock Black Americans. The representation of Asianness in this pantomime Aladdin does not fall under the specific umbrella of blackface minstrelsy.) If we agree that Cox's cartoonish visage is blackface of some kind, it should seem all the more sinister that, as the villain Abanazer, Cox is the only actor in the lineup to receive that treatment. What does it say about Asian-ness that only the villain is in blackface? 

White innocence, and ignorance

One of Thompson's anchor points is the image of "white innocence". The logic of white people who have done blackface, Thompson writes, stems from the "belief that ignorance is a type of innocence". To me, this is the actual crux of the problem with panto productions of Aladdin: the pantomime stage is implicitly considered a white space. If pantos choose to employ "diverse casting", they are nevertheless inviting marginalised performers into their space, rather than giving them any ownership over it.

Putting Black and brown bodies on display onstage does not an anti-racist production make. If anything, it highlights the racial disparity between who gets to own "Britishness" and who is considered a mere object. "Exhibition," Thompson writes, "disempowers the person on display because all of the power resides with the viewer." Basing our judgement of these productions on representation alone paints an incomplete portrait of a production's actual impact, because representation for its own sake defaults not to liberation, but to objectification and tokenisation.

Blackface performance, Thompson says, reveals implicit biases – this includes the belief that racist tropes are funny, and therefore okay to play on stage. As Bo Burnham says in "What's Funny" (2010), "Everybody laughs at the Chinese accent, because they privately thought that your people were laughable, and now you've given them the chance to express that in public." Now, I'm not saying that we should all listen to the formerly problematic, famously self-flagellating white comic, but Burnham makes a good point. The continued success of racist pantomimes speaks to a broader culture that has always thought that a little racist joke is okay, as a treat. 

Thompson also highlights an important intersection. In early criticism of blackface performances, critics disparage the art not for its racism, but because it panders to "low-brow" tastes. One New York Times critic likened Laurence Olivier's use of blackface in Othello (1965) to American minstrelsy in a negative light, complaining that Olivier's performance was more "outrageous impression" than dramatic artistry. It's important that we remember the value of pantomime as a valid cultural art form.

The popular appeal of pantomime does not excuse its use of racist tropes, but neither does it invalidate its cultural legitimacy. The notion that panto audiences don't know any better is not only belittling, but it presumes white innocence. Many audiences do know better. And if they don't, then they should. None of this is to say that pantomime should be done away with entirely. Pantomime is a vital and supremely creative art form – it is many children's first exposure to theatre. And, with reliable sources of income all but evaporating for theatre artists, pantomime remains an indispensable feature of the theatrical ecosystem. 

Fergus Rattigan has performed as one of the Seven Dwarfs in countless adaptations of Snow White. On first look, he doesn't see the issue with the Beacon Arts Centre's Aladdin cast photo. He points out that the various styles of makeup can be seen across all panto, not just in Aladdin. The tradition of panto makeup, Rattigan says, comes from commedia dell'arte, which uses recognisable masks to introduce characters. "When I play Bashful," he says, "you get the really over-the-top, rosy cheeks, or if you're playing Sneezy, you get the really red nose. Particularly for little kids, they don't need a load of backstory as to why this person is evil. They're nice, easy clarifiers."

There are a few clear differences, when laid out like this, between Bashful's makeup and Abanazer's. Rattigan says that the archetypal villain makeup is meant to "feel a little bit uncanny, and a little bit uncomfortable." This uncanniness is linked to the racialised features it refers to. If they are to stand in for traditional exposition, these shorthand makeups must rely on the audience to fill in the gaps with their own knowledge. And, in Abanazer's case, this assumption hinges on racist perceptions of Eastern people as dark-featured, untrustworthy-looking, and, as Rattigan says, "cartoonishly evil". Whether the makeup is racist is not what's up for debate – the makeup does employ recognisable tropes, and those tropes do come from Orientalism. 

When asked if he finds it demeaning to play a "one-dimensional" dwarf in Snow White, Rattigan's answer is a resounding "no" – not only are the dwarfs not as one-dimensional as they seem, but they aren't any less-developed than their non-dwarf castmates. Snow White teaches children the valuable lesson that "people can come in different shapes and sizes." Why then, one might ask, can those lessons not be extended to ending racial stereotypes?

'Panto has some growing to do'

Rattigan talks about panto's ability to create "good discomfort". He points out the double standard present in British culture – that some foreigners get called immigrants, and some get called an invasion. And given panto's ability to be updated year to year, Rattigan feels that it could be time for some anti-racist upgrades. "There's an educational void that needs to be filled there, and I think it filters through to panto… The fact that we're sending it out to kids hopefully means the next generation coming behind us will update things a bit more – will move things forward a bit better."

Most importantly, Rattigan confirms that the problem can't be reduced solely to panto. The root of the issue, he continues, has more to do with British exceptionalism and the enforced ignorance – and white innocence – with which British culture imagines the "foreign". Abanazer's Orientalist makeup speaks to tropes that, much like panto itself, date all the way back to the Ancient Greeks. The qualities of the villain archetype – darkened eyebrows, heavy contour, a warm complexion, and a certain kind of facial hair – can be traced back to British caricatures of the dangerous and monolithic "East". Following each of these threads, they all funnel into the same issue: that we don't recognise the hallmarks of white supremacist messaging in our own cultural institutions.

But it isn't all bad news. As a famously adaptable art form, pantomime is uniquely positioned to comment directly on our day-to-day environment; it already does in so many ways. Rattigan says that panto performers receive counselling on what is and isn't appropriate to include in improvised jokes – to a limited extent, it would seem. When I go to see a panto, I don't want to brace myself to inevitably encounter a performance that harms my community. I don't want to have to wonder whether the show will hinge on its audience privately thinking that my people are laughable. And I certainly don't want to worry that my own entertainment will come at the cost of another person's wellness. I shouldn't have to.

Actor Michelle Kelly says, "Creating theatre that welcomes children and first-time theatre-goers is a noble aim; it is made all the less noble when only white children and first-time theatre-goers are truly welcome." When we think of pantomime as "for children", it often feels like the unspoken meaning is "for white children" – after all, as Kelly points out, are Asian children not also children? Don't they deserve to feel safe and respected? Representation is instructive – it teaches children how their community feels about what they see. And if pantomime is to truly welcome all audiences, it has some growing of its own to do.