For this is what these shows at the Players’ most certainly are.  The reputation of its pantomimes is second to none, and maintaining the standard  must present a great challenge.  How odd it is that the Players’ standard fare — the Late Joys music hall programmes — is so precious and déjà-vu, and yet the pantomimes are so quirky and imaginative.      As usual the evening started with a handful of vintage Late Joys turns.  First on was Deryk Parkin with a very clever version of Where Did You Get That Hat? featuring specially written verses to accommodate his deftly manipulated all-purpose hat.  He was cheered mightily.    Then Robin Hunter (left) appeared in a loud check suit, bowler, and red nose.  Theoretically he was to sing for us, but the number was merely an excuse for one of the funniest patter acts I have ever seen.  It was very pro-y  — a reference to the minuteness of the dressing-rooms got a roar  — and quite irresistible (i). 
    Robin was followed by the delicious Sheila Mathews (right) who is currently understudying Anna Neagle in Charlie Girl at the Vaudeville. With her slim graceful figure, lovely face and gorgeously warm voice Sheila has long been a favourite of mine (I once wrote her a fan letter) and her captivating performance of The Corsican Maid was rapturously received.
    Then came John Rutland, another Players’ stalwart, with one of his signature patter numbers, Everybody Knows Me In My Old Brown Hat delivered at breakneck speed.  He was also wildly applauded and rightly so.  Finally, a splendidly comic version of If Those Lips Could Only Speak, sung by three gentlemen DR and with the inimitable Joan Sterndale Bennett (left) poised archly on a pedestal UC as the ‘beautiful picture in a beautiful golden frame’, a performance which encapsulated  the Players’ at its stylish best.
    Dominic Le Foe, fresh from a rather unsuccessful Music Hall at the Mayfair (Caryl Brahms tore him to bits in the Guardian and had to apologise in print a day or two later) was the chairman.  A witty man but lacking projection, his contribution to the evening adequate but uninspired (ii).
    This year’s panto subject was Aladdin or The Wonderful Scamp!, given with a Welsh flavour.  The original 1861 script of rhyming couplets was by that prolific melodrama and burlesque writer, Henry J. Byron, with up-to-date additions by Denis Martin who also selected the music (iii). As usual, it was a stunningly polished display of high camp.  Such a show could never be a commercial proposition: its appeal is too limited, but for Players’ aficionados it was a total treat.
    The pace was swift and the staging of the musical numbers quite brilliant.  Such is the kudos of appearing in these productions that despite the measly salary of £18 a week the director Don Gemmell has no difficulty in attracting first-rate talent. And yet again he has worked miracles on the small stage with the lighting and scenery — there were three transformation scenes, no less (iv). From curtain rise as a chorus of miners crawled out of Aladdin’s Cave bearing the magic Davy Lamp through to the Minstrel-Eisteddford finale which included the ‘Transvestiture’, all was enchantment (v).  The Slave of the Lamp was, of course, ‘Florence (The Lady with the Lamp) Nightingale’, played delightfully by Margaret Ashton (vi).  Johnny Dennis exhibited polish and a good deal of charm as the Slave of the Ring, and provided virtually the only quiet moment in the piece with his rendering of Genie With The Light Brown Hair (vii).
    Julia Sutton (right) as Aladdin possesses a powerful personality with a belting voice to match. Another vocal highlight was provided by Rosalyn Dunbar as Princess Balroubador whose parody of Lo, Here the Gentle Lark while hanging out the washing on her father’s outstretched pigtail brought the house down.  She looked ravishingly pretty, and I loved the way she firmly silenced the house whenever there was a gag line to punch.
    But the palm must go to Robin Hunter’s Olivier-ish Abanazer.  A monster of duplicity, with his fur-lined coat, battered top hat and magic umbrella, he looked like some seedy actor-manager still in his Shylock make-up.  He revelled in his villainy to an extent I have never seen before; and we revelled in it, and he revelled in our revelling in it.  It was a love affair across the floats such as only happens rarely, and resulted in a performance touching greatness.  His faking of a high final top note was one of my all-time memorable moments in the theatre.  
    The vocal arrangements of Geoffrey Brawn (left) were impeccable as always, and his piano accompaniment beyond praise (viii). The sole weakness, musically, was the finale of the first act.  The tune was unfamiliar, and the pace too fast for us to catch the words.  Consequently we lost the plot and the point.
    Tony Bateman as The Emperor, coped very well indeed with a difficult part;  his duet with the Dame was one of the best numbers in the show — one would have liked an encore, it was so short.  Eleanor McCready managed to make something of the thankless part of the second boy, Pekoe, but then we all know what a clever artiste she can be.  Susan Jackson as second girl (‘Lady-in-Waiting, but Not For Long’)  had indeed to wait a long time for her moment of glory but took it very well indeed.  A sweet voice and an excellent sense of comedy.
    The costumes were top-notch, and the scenery simple but wonderfully effective, Reggie Woolley’s designs exhibiting marvels of spectacle and perspective (ix).  My only caveat of the show is that there is too much comedy, giving us no opportunity to enjoy the plot.  One was never moved at any point, one was never involved.  With the sole exception of Johnny Dennis’s song there was little emotive appeal, and that came a little too near the start of the show.  But all the same a triumphant evening, and one which made me proud to be a Pro.