Pantomime

The Lying Bitch and the Wardrobe

Oran Mor, Glasgow

Mary Brennan

****

THE Oran Mor pies are going down a treat and an onstage trio - led by Dame Beanie - is belting out an opening number that reassures us that ‘panto’s no just for weans anymore’.

What could go amiss? Empress Evilyin, that’s what. Within seconds of assuming power, she’s banned pies - and square sausage - and, thrice woe, she’s outlawed singing on pain of arrest by her Invisible Army. This is no idle threat, folks - they’re doing heavy-footed marching in the wings.

Meanwhile, Maureen Carr is in full-on Cruella de Vil vamp mode as the Empress with a secret in her wardrobe - and it’s not just an endless change of glitzy costumes: it’s the name of a song that will render her powerless. Can Dame Beanie (Dave Anderson), Rosie (Hannah Howie) and Handsome Jack (John Kielty) outwit Evilyin and save the songs that are already worked into Morag Fullarton’s delightfully tongue-in-cheek script? Never fear: they, and director Ron Bain, are on the case ready to make the ridiculous into some sublimely daft comedy.

The cheerfully silly storyline is tinged with nippy references to current times - ambitious politicians, empty promises, all-knowing smart technology and West End tropes are targets for debunking banter and wittily dry asides.

Leading from the front - and what an impressive front she has - is Anderson’s garrulous Dame Beanie whose livelihood as the Human Jukebox is under threat. Right alongside her is Howie’s Rosie, who has a degree and a rebellious streak - and the hots for Handsome Jack.

f Kielty is hilarious as the blonde himbo, prone to pop-star posturing, he is equally entertaining when - in the switch of a wig - he becomes the fall guy Eejit, numpty servant to the Empress. Proceedings fairly breeze along, nodding to tradition while keeping a wise eye on sharp topicality but above it all, this show offers laugh-out-loud fun - and a cracking singalong too.